Dancing in bars and Turkey-less Thanksgiving

After spending all week teaching about Thanksgiving, I spent my Turkey Thursday the way I do every week, working and then going to music class. My feasting would come later.
Friday evening I hitched a ride with Thérèse, one of the women from my traditional music workshop, to a town near Dinan called la Hisse. We headed to Le Shetland, a restaurant/bar that had agreed to let us host a monthly traditional jam session there. I had no part in the organization of the jam, but was delighted to come along. Most jam sessions in little towns like this one are inaccessible to anyone without a car because the buses stop running early in the evening. Going to a jam session therefore usually means figuring out how to stay the night.
I was impressed at the number of people who showed up to this first jam session, though like folk musicians in the US, they all seemed to know each other some how or other. Groups from different parts of the region played pieces from their repertoire, and in the end everyone joined in to play together. Those who weren't playing danced. In Brittany, many of the traditional dances take the form of a circle, with the dances holding hands (or pinkies!) and stepping in time. This makes them easy to join, as you just connect to the end of the line and then try to copy the steps of the people next to you, although a few of the dances are quite complicated.
It was had a blast. I felt quite at home with these people who so warmly welcomed me into their midst simply because I share the same love of music, dance, and tradition as they do. Much like the folk music scene at home, come to think of it. I got home quite late that night (or early, depending on your perspective), still humming Breton tunes.
The next morning, I slept in and then wandered over to the apartment of the other teaching assistants to start cooking a late Thanksgiving lunch. We chose to have it there because they have an oven, a larger fridge, and the right amount of silverware. Kiara and I had already made pies a couple of days before, so all we had left to do was cook our root vegetables, stuff our chicken, and toss a salad. We left out the cranberries, as they are hard to find in France.
The meal turned out wonderfully. I have to say, I much prefer chicken to turkey. It just has so much more flavor. No one had tried pumpkin pie before. Even though it's texture was a bit lumpy (we used a potato masher instead of a blender), the flavor was right and everyone seemed to enjoy it. We were 8 total: myself, Kiara and Zac (the Australians), two young French teachers, two Germans, and my Polish neighbor, Carolina. It was a very international Thanksgiving! I was very grateful to have such great friends to celebrate the holiday with. As per tradition, we all ate too much and then ambled over to see Enzo Enzo in concert. She's best known for her rendition of "Juste quelqu'un de bien," but has written a lot of her own music as well.
Sunday, Zac and Kiara and I took the train to Combourg, a small town known for it's castle. Combourg turned out to be even more deserted than Dinan is on a Sunday and the castle was closed, but we had a nice walk before returning home. You can see the photos below.

 Combourg from afar

 The castle peeking over the rooftops

 There it is!

 Church in Combourg

 Poisonous mushroom

 Brittany looks a lot like Oregon sometimes

Sending warm thoughts your way!

How to travel on a Sunday

After scouring maps and bus and train schedules, I concluded that it was impossible to go anywhere on a Sunday in France without expecting to stay overnight. Buses stop running, stores close, and trains cut their schedules in half at least. I set my travel books aside with a sigh and stared out the window; I had to do something. I had a free day in France and felt it was my duty to use it wisely. Outside, the sky was a solid grey and it was windy, but no rain.
I called up Kiara, the Australian teaching assistant. She had come to the same conclusion. "Do you want to go for a walk?" I said. At 12:30 we met up at the top of Rue Jerzuel, the steep, windy, and very picturesque street that leads down from Dinan's high ramparts to the port below, and then headed north along the river. The road soon turned into a park-like path hugging the banks. Every few minutes, signs would appear pointing towards villages and sights west of the river, a few of which we explored before returning to our path. By 2:30 we reached the La Vicomté-sur-Rance, a lovely port town with a damn keeping the southern part of the river full of water while the northern side empties out at low tide.
It was a strange sight. The muddy contours of the river bottom were exposed to view, filling the air with the smell of wet clay. By the banks, fishing nets hung high and dry, waiting for the water and fish to return. We crossed the bridge over the damn and stopped for hot chocolate in a café next to the port. Warm and rested, we figured we should start heading back; the cold air was great for walking, but with such thick clouds nighttime was sure to come early.
We were not, however, in any hurry. Feeling adventurous, we naively decided to find a different route back. There was no quiet path on the eastern side of the river because of high rocky cliffs, but a map in town showed a couple of main roads heading south. We inevitably got lost. After wandering past little communities with amusing names (La Ville des Petits-pois, or "pea town") and reading street signs with no mention of Dinan, we decided it was time to either ask for directions or retrace our steps. As it was Sunday, not many people were out and about, but I spied and old man coming out of his house with a little white dog in one arm. He was understandably surprised to hear that we had come so far by foot, but explained that he was headed to the forest to feed his cat and would be happy to drop us off on the main road to Dinan afterwards. He seemed harmless, so we hopped into his car. It turns out he is a retired school-teacher. He bought a piece of land in the Forêt de Coëtquen and built a cottage for himself as a getaway from the hustle and bustle of his village. His cat was a big old thing who is apparently too independent to live in the city, but unhealthy enough that Monsieur felt obliged to come and feed him every day. Monsieur was clearly worried for the old cat's health. He set out at least a dozen bowls full of warm milk, several different kinds of wet food, dry food, water, medecine, etc. and waited around until he was satisfied that the cat had sufficiently eaten. The whole process took about an hour.
When the cat was fed we hopped back into the car, eager to be on our way. It was getting late and the weather felt colder now that we had stopped walking. Monsieur turned the key in the transmission. Nothing happened. The battery was dead. He had accidentally left the heat on for the little white dog in the front seat, thus draining the battery. Monsieur was embarrassed and at a loss for what to do, but we cheerfully offered to get out and push, which we did, up and down the driveway without success. Just when Kiara and I thought we had better start walking, Monsieur said, "You know what, I've got another battery we can try." Battery #2 was bigger than the first. We barely managed to jam it in there and reattach the cables, but when he turned the key in the transmission the car rumbled to life.
It was 5pm by the time he dropped us off at the cross-roads he had mentioned. It was a busy road without sidewalks that lead into Lanvallay, the city immediately across the river from Dinan. It took us at least 2 more hours to walk back to Dinan. We were tired and hungry, and the twinkling lights of our city seemed so far. Night had fallen by the time I stumbled up the steps to my apartment. There was dinner to make and classes to prepare for. To my delight, the heat had been turned on in the apartment complex. I never slept so well.

Port of La Vicomté-sur-Rance

 The river Rance at low tide.

The "barrage", or damn

Kiara photographing the locks

"Careful, don't drive into the river!"

Kiara pointing to cliffs on eastern side of the river.

Inserting battery #2

Happy Halloween!

Getting wifi in my apartment was a boon and a very bad thing. I've been spending far too much time online and too little sketching and such. In an attempt to break the habit, I kicked myself out of my apartment yesterday afternoon to take what turned out to be a grueling 25-mile bike ride between here and Plancoët. A colleague Madeleine's (my contact person) lent me the bike to help with the long distances between some of my schools here. The ride was only grueling because I deviated from the main roads a lot and ended up on dirt paths leading goodness knows where through forest and fields, up and down hills without the possibility of changing gears. Entering these tree-covered paths felt a little bit like going down the rabbit hole to Wonderland. I was eager to take them to leave the main roads, though, which are narrow compared to American standards and have no bike lanes. It was scary to have cars zipping by, inches away. I rode through Corseul on my way to Plancoët and stopped to see the Temple of Mars, Roman ruins that look rather neglected between farmers' fields. The height of the main ruins is impressive, considering how old they are. Even more interesting, however, was a little stone oven to the left of the road nearby. It looked in fine condition and probably isn't Roman, but I was so thrilled to be able to poke my head in and see how it was made.
On the way back I stopped for a cup of coffee at a bar called "l'Irlandais" (the Irishman), which was empty except for it's very French owners, a Moroccan, and a French guy complaining that he had no work or money. But they were nice. I then got completely and utterly lost by taking too many side roads, and thankfully ran into a group of children who were more than happy to tell me where to go.

Well, today is Halloween. It isn't a traditional French holiday, and has only really become popular in schools and in stores in the past 5-10 years. Here, it's recognized as a commercial holiday, though the schools enjoy it because it's a chance to teach about other cultures. The store around the corner has been showing off it's cheaply-made Halloween costumes for at least a month. That being said, there's apparently a big Halloween party being held in Rennes tonight, where university students will likely dress up and drink lots of beer. I don't plan on celebrating, but maybe I'll go out and buy a chocolate bar.

Visit to Saint-Malo

I slept in this morning. Nothing happens on Sundays here, anyway. Even the boulangerie nearby is closed. Yesterday I accompanied the other teaching assistants here on a trip to Saint-Malo, the nearest large city to Dinan. Saint-Malo is a short train or bus ride from Dinan. It sits on the edge of the ocean, cornered on the left by the mouth of the river Rance as it meets the sea. It's the ultimate port town; soft, smooth beaches outside of stone ramparts encircling the tightly knit houses and streets that make up the old town. Though it's not obvious at first glance, much of the towers and ramparts around Saint-Malo are new. The city was all but obliterated during WWII, and they spent many years rebuilding it all.
It was a cold but sunny morning when we made the walk from the train station to the port. The gates to the old town are impressive, with the towers of the Hotel de Ville on one side and walls on the other. There, we met the gang of American assistants from Saint-Brieuc, who suggested we visit one of the rocky islands around the city, made accessible by foot at low tide. It was indeed low tide, so we scampered across the sand and over the rocks to the doors of the Fort National, which was closed, of course (the tourist season officially ends  on September 30th in Brittany), but from there we had a very impressive view of the city. The American assistants then left us to explore the city while we attempted to reach the second island, le Grand Bé, where Chateaubriand's tomb lies. Unfortunately, the tide was already lapping up over the path to the island by the time we'd negotiated our way over the sharp rocks to the other beach, so we entered the city walls instead. It's very clear by the number of souvenirs shops and ice cream and sweets stands that Saint-Malo is accustomed to a healthy population of tourists, at least in the old town, but this didn't make the visit any less interesting. We stepped inside the Cathédrale Saint-Vincent, which is curiously asymmetric but has stunning stained-glass windows.
At noon, we returned to the train station to pick up the Italian assistant, Michéle and a Spanish assistant, Nuria, and then went to have a picnic on the beach. It would have been quite pleasant if it weren't for the chilling wind. We stayed, huddled in our coats, long enough to finish our sandwiches and then opted for a brisk walk in town followed by hot chocolate at a café in the sun. It was a good day. Nuria and Michèle accompanied us back to Dinan to spend the night. We played "I spy" on the train home, and made dinner together at the assistant's apartment in the Lycée. Michèle is a good cook. We ate, laughed, and drank wine. It's amazing how being strangers in a strange land can bring a diverse group of individuals so close together. Visiting a new city was fun, but the real point of the outing was just to be together, to enjoy each other's presence.

Internet

 It’s amazing how easy it is to take wifi for granted. Luckily, I have a neighbor in the apartment complex who is eager to share the cost of hooking up a router with me, but for now I'm still having to go to the apartment of the other teaching assistants, across town, in order to do email in peace.

Now where was I... After arriving in Brittany, the assistant teachers gathered together in their separate départements (mine is Côte d’Armor) on october 3^rd for an orientation at which we filled out lots of necessary papers and were given some tips on teaching. It wasn’t quite enough to prepare me for my very first day of class, but I think mine was an extreme case; most assistants don’t start teaching by themselves right away.

I teach in 4 different schools, for a total of 12 hours a week. I teach English in an elementary and middle school in Dinan, and at an elementary school in Lanvallay, the town across the river from Dinan. As ridiculous as it sounds, I’m also teaching Spanish at another elementary school in Dinan, because Lidia can’t yet. There are only 2 students, and although they know almost as much Spanish as I do, I’m getting by all right for now. It helps to have Internet. It’s actually quite fun to dredge my memory for vocabulary I learned in high school.

It seems like school just got started, yet our first vacation is almost here. Toussaints, or “All Saints” vacation lasts from October 22^nd to November 2^nd. I’m still not sure what I’ll do during my week of freedom, but I know the Australian assistants are planning on visiting Bordeaux. I may look into visiting a farm nearby, I’m not sure. It all depends on when I get paid…

            I’ve taken a few pictures of the city. Here you can see the port of Dinan, nestled close to the river Rance. Most of the city is actually up on the hill behind, but there are many nice restaurants and old houses along the river. In the second photo, you can see the bridge I cross to get to Lanvallay. The third photo is of one of the towers on the ramparts, which are still intact.

Hello Brittany!

I flew into France on September 25th and found myself once more in the city of Paris, where I studied 3 years ago. This time, I would not be staying long.
I've been accepted into the Teaching Assistant Program in France, in which young people like myself are temporarily employed by the French government to teach their native language to French public school students. I will be teaching English to primary and secondary school students in a small town in Brittany, northwestern France. My contract is from October 1st to April 30th, though my visa allows a little leeway on either end. To find out more about the program, follow this link: http://www.frenchculture.org/spip.php?rubrique424&tout=ok

It was a blissfully uneventful series of flights that took me from Portland to Seattle, Seattle to Reykjavik, and finally Reykjavik to Paris with Icelandair. I met other teaching assistants in Reykjavik, heading to other parts of France. One of the girls was on her second round of assistant teaching in France.
Once in Paris, I headed straight for Aloha Hostel, located in the 15th Arrondissement. It was the closest hostel I could find to the Montparnasse train station, where I would be taking the train the next day to Rennes, and finally to Dinan. It was a fine hostel, despite the silly name. I picked up a deliciously greasy kebab from a restaurant nearby, found a bank, took out some money, and went so sleep at around 7pm.
The next day, I met with my good friend Nayla for coffee before rushing off to the train station. My contact person in Brittany, Madeleine Reux, came to meet me at the train station in Rennes.  She is the head of languages for the primary school district of Dinan, where she trains teachers to teach English. She is a kind and very funny person, who I've gotten to really like. I ended up staying with her for the next week, as it turned out that the hostel in Dinan, which I had contacted before leaving, had decided to close early.
To make a long story short, I eventually found an apartment with the Foyer des Jeunes Travailleurs, an organization that provides housing for young people, and have now settled in. I have made friends with the 4 other assistants assigned to Dinan; 2 Spaniards and 2 Australians, but one of Spaniards, Lidia, has broken her foot and will not be able to join us for awhile. I went to visit her in Rennes last weekend. We communicated a lot by email before I left because she is also the only other assistant working in primary schools, like me. The other three work in the high school, where they are also housed.
My first week of classes was a bit rough; I realized how little experience I have actually teaching little kids after my first class with rambunctious 7-year-olds. I left crying after class #2, when I completely lost control of the class. It's not that they are intentionally badly-behaved; they are really sweet kids one-on-one, I just hadn't learned how to handle a class by myself. This week was better, though it's still scary.
Dinan is a lovely town. Surrounded by medieval ramparts, the town center is full of half-timbered buildings, cobblestone streets, and two churches. There's an open-air market on Thursdays, where I do most of my shopping for the week. Cider and buckwheat crepes are the traditional specialties here.

More to come soon, I promise!