Un vrai pot de colle

It was Barry’s and my turn to start school this week. We arrived at the university at 9:00 a.m. to write our placement tests, and were met with some disorganization.

The students had to unstack desks and move chairs before any of us could sit down. After the room was arranged, we waited 10 minutes while the tests were quickly run off. Despite the very loud construction directly out the classroom window, and the questions typed in extremely small font, we both finished writing in just over an hour. The test included multiple choice and fill in the blank questions and 2 short essay questions: one about our arrival in France and first impressions, the other on the effect of television on children.

The next morning we went to check our placements: Barry had been placed in group 3, and I in the highest group, group 4. Some of you may, very legitimately, be surprised by my placement, as I was. Or perhaps panic would better describe how I was feeling. How could I have been placed in the HIGHEST group?! I knew, for instance, that an American women taking her masters in French was in this group. Barry laughs, but I swear it’s because I threw in this one subjonctif phrase while writing one of my essays that I had just heard Lily’s teacher use while speaking to us that morning (“il faudrait qu’ils sachent”). Nevermind my understanding of the subjonctif does not extend beyond this one phrase as anything that I may have known is long since forgotten. The only thing that stopped me from going and confessing to them that I had been messing around with French that was out of my league, and that really they should reconsider my placement, was that Group 4 had no classes on Wednesdays. This solved a huge concern for us, as the girls also are school free on Wednesdays (this is very common in France).

Alors, Groupe 4. Welcome your weakest link.

Remember all that wise advice I was feeding to Grace about trying her best even if it is difficult /it would get easier, etc.?? Well, it’s been my turn to take my own advice for a test drive. On that very day I had one class that discussed for 2 hours Sarkozy’s policy concerning the expulsion of the Gypsies and his plan to raise the retirement age. I guess the good news is that I understood some of it; it was just the other 50% percent that remained incomprehensible that had me slightly concerned. Yesterday for another class, we had to listen to 5 minutes of a news report and answer true or false and short answer questions based on it. This was a humbling experience to say the least; if I was grading it back home my result would be way down in the “not yet meeting” category, (and I must confess even including some lucky guesses). But, Grace appreciated hearing about Mom’s struggles and how I am trying to be as brave as she has been.

Grace really continues to impress us with how well she is working at adapting. In addition to the higher level of French (and math, we are finding out), all the children in her class write in handwriting (at the beginning of Grade 2!). She had been working on her cursive writing some this summer, but it’s still very slow and new for her. She says she is sometimes alone at break times, and she is putting on a brave face about it, but I think she feels lonely sometimes.

During all my classes this week, my thoughts often drifted to the girls and how each was doing. My classmates have had to hear me describe, for each new class we started, the scene of Lily crying and clinging to me everytime I drop her off. One professor said that the french phrase “un vrai pot de colle” (a real jar of glue), would describe such a situation.

Luckily, with Barry and I having different schedules, Lily doesn’t have to stay at school for lunch (“le cantine” wasn’t such a hit with this daughter...for starters, they made her wear a bib!!), and although the morning drop off remains “un vrai pot de colle”, she hasn’t cried returning after lunch and returns home quite animated and singing .....yay Lily!

Barry has Tuesdays free which worked well this week as the schools were closed due to the large strike against Sarkozy’s plan to raise the age of retirement from 60 to 62 (Barry and the girls saw hundreds marching just outside of the university). Also, it allows him to accompany Lily on her very first field trip next Tuesday; 25 four and five year olds are walking 20 minutes through downtown Avignon to the train station, taking a 25 minute train ride to Arles, and then walking 10 minutes to view a photography display (!) - all paid for by the school. Barry is as excited, if not more so, than Lily! Afterwards, her class will be participating in a photography project. I am very interested to see what this entails.

La Rentree

It’s one thing to move overseas as an adult and have a rough day when nothing about your new home is feeling as a home should, and you find yourself thinking about how comfortable everything was back in that place you volunteered to leave behind. At least you realize that ups and downs are expected, and that the whole experience is so valuable you need to just plow through.

It’s entirely another when you move overseas and it’s your child that is feeling uncomfortable and afraid and your assurances that it will get easier etc. mean nothing to them because they are living 100% in the present.

This is our reality at the moment.

Upon our return from Paris, we had rushed over to the girls’ schools (Lily is in the local “La Maternelle” school for 3 to 6 year olds, Grace in the adjoining school for 7 - 10 year olds) the afternoon before school started. We absolutely lucked out meeting both of the girls’ teachers and having a look around their classrooms. Both girls seemed very relieved and positive about their schools and I was elated: the teachers were very kind and generous with their time and we all would know our way around the next day....a sure recipe for smooth sailing.....

However, by the next morning all of our pre-school jitters were back. The girls were so brave walking to the school and waiting for the bell to ring, but as you can see by the picture, they were both very nervous. (If I don’t look nervous myself, it’s due to my great acting in front of the girls.) When first entering the class, Lily tried to concentrate on a puzzle and not cry, but quickly resorted to crying and clinging, while I tried not to cry and to reassure. There was some very sweet children curious about the little girl and Mommy talking English, but Lily was too distraught to interact. Quickly, Lily’s teacher and I decided that Lily would not stay for lunch that day. When we picked her up for the 2 hour lunch break, she seemed subdued and made it clear that she did not want to return that afternoon. Feeling a high amount of motherly guilt and worry, I prematurely asked her if she liked school a little, medium or big bit. The response “None. I hate school.” At that point, I knew it had to be Barry dropping her off for the afternoon.

Although there were some tears to start off the next morning, by the time we picked her up at 11:30, to my huge relief, she was much more the Lily we know, and when I asked the same question as I did yesterday, school got a “medium like”; ahhhhh, the sigh of a partly relieved Mom! Lily’s teacher has been doing her best to translate things into English for her, so appreciated. It’s amazing to us that already she has asked us the meaning of “maitresse”, “avec toi”, “vas-y” and “Anglais”.

After the week-end, this morning was difficult for her again and today she tries staying for lunch. Our fingers are crossed.

Grace had a mildy positive report after her first day. (“Mommy, I only wimpered for a minute”). She really likes her teacher, and sits beside a girl who speaks English and is happy to be around other children. She is thrilled with the lunch program (if you know Grace, this isn’t a surprise). Grace had one hour to savour the following on her first day of school: Poireaux vinagrette/ Poulet roti certifie aigre douce et rix bio cantonais/ Carre de l’est a la coupe/ Peche. Not a hot dog for miles. A few hurdles exist for her as well; she doesn’t like all the french nor the difficulty of the work. We just keep stressing that her job is to do her best and learn some more french, not keep up with her classmates. A sentiment that her teacher repeated which I think helped take some of the stress off of her.

We really do expect school to become more and more enjoyable and positive for the girls as their french improves. Today, the getting there is not feeling easy, and I wish I could speed it up for both of them.

All the best to our wonderful teaching friends back home as they return to the classroom tomorrow, and to all the little ones we know also heading back. Hope it is happy and tear-free for all!

Paris

I am currently sitting in the all-too-toasty "Cybermedia Cafe" in Avignon to post a few more photos of our time in Paris, as internet and telephone are still days away at our apartment (Wednesday at the earliest). It will be a treat to be able to more regularly stay in touch with you all when we are connected at home.

Our days in Paris passed quickly, starting with a trip to a nearby market where we enjoyed observing the market culture (Lily learned to say "touche pas!"). Barry did an excellent job of following proper etiquette and buying the ingredients to make a birthday dinner for my Mom that evening. After lunch, we spent a leisurely Sunday afternoon at the Luxmbourg Gardens with many other Parisien families enjoying the vintage carousel, le theatre des marionnettes (the girls weren't so sure about the puppet show, but Barry didn't give them an option, telling them it was a cultural experience that they couldn't veto!), a pay-by-the-five-minutes swing set, and ponies to ride. We had a great end to the day celebrating my Mom's birthday eating, we all agreed, the tastiest pork chops ever that had been purchased at the morning market, and cutting up a box full of different pastries to share.

On Monday I had a very special day with my parents visiting the Louvre (unbelievably huge, crowded and interesting, even though our tour guide had a good dose of that Paris "the paying customer is never right" attitude we had read about!), and later Notre Dame Cathedral (breathtaking), while Barry took the girls to another garden with rides; a big hit.

On our last day we set out early to ride up the Eiffel Tower; a must on Grace's list. Although not great with heights, (I have to pump my courage up for a child sized ferris wheel), I thought I would be fine having made it up the CN tower (huddled against the back wall of the elevator still counts, right?) which is considerably higher. But, the elevator going to the second level of the Paris Tower was much scarier as you feel you are rising almost unsupported with only open metal all around you. (I don't know how they found anyone willing to build it). Of course, I felt better when there was a solid floor to step out on at the top and didn't feel the need to go right back down, as I was vowing to do on the way up. Views spectacular. Paris spectacular.

Our last stop was the Champs Elysees (the girls kept humming this 1969 French folk song about this street we had heard on the boat cruise, so we thought we should check it out) and lunch in full view of the Arc de Triomphe.

Wednesday we returned by train to Avignon to begin our lives as students, and my parents began the long journey back to Vancouver Island. We thank them for everything, and sure will miss them!

A First NIght In Paris

I have heard so much about this city over the years, and although obviously very eager to visit, I couldn't help wondering whether or not it would fully live up to my expectations. Well, it did. And more.

On the taxi ride from the train station, I kept getting little glimpses of various parts that make Paris so famous; the Seine, the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower just peaking over the other buildings we passed in the distance, and a quick glance down St. Germain Boulevard. And, even while distracted trying to keep the girls' debate about the taxi driver and his dangerous decision not to wear his seatbelt and what would happen to him if he crashed, from reaching the front seat, my excitement about being here grew.

After getting 2 over-tired girls down for a late afternoon nap, we headed out for an evening boat cruise on the Seine. It was a quick Metro ride, and a short walk, before the girls and I saw the Eiffel Tour for the first time in its entirety. Grace was thrilled; skipping and laughing as we walked along the Seine as the sun began to set (even Lily remarked how "hyper" Grace was!)

The boat cruise was the perfect way for us to start our stay; the girls didn't have to walk and loved being on the "ferry", as Lily called it, and it was such a beautiful way to see Paris at night with children. The bridges and buildings were lit up; the most impressive being Notre Dame. By the time we returned to the Eiffel Tower, where the tour had started, it too was all lit up, and to our great surprise, just as we came up the steps from the river at 10:00 pm, white lights flashed on the tower like a huge Christmas tree for a full 5 minutes.

Then, feeling very French, we stopped for an 11:00 pm crepe and coffee on our return to the Metro station. A sleepy, but very content, Grace summed up the experience well with 2 words. I asked her what she thought about Paris and she answered "fancy and distinguished". At that moment, I couldn't have agreed with her more.

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Tartare de Boeuf

On Thursday we wandered down to a different part of historic Avignon to the picturesque Rue de Teinturiers. We arrived just in time for lunch and spotted an appealing looking cafe with its outdoor seating completely in the shade. The patio was filled with locals (another draw) and we decided to fill the last remaining table with 6 hungry Canadians. The notice board on the road advertised the “plat du jour” as “Tartare de Boeuf avec frites” for 9 Euros. I was up for a little mid-day beef until I saw most of the above-mentioned locals chowing down on a neatly arranged brick of shiny raw hamburger. And as if this dish didn’t surprise enough with its rawness, on more non-conspicuous peeking I learnt that the shininess was due to an uncooked egg plopped on top and slithering down the sides. Faster than you can say “I like my hamburg well-done”, I changed my lunch order to “la grosse salade”, with cooked chicken, feta cheese and plenty of raw lettuce.

But, I admired my Dad for doing like the locals and ordering the featured lunch plate. His meal was the first to arrive (Grace later remarked that of course Papa’s food came first as they didn’t even have to cook it). Upon seeing what their Papa was eating, both girls were flabbergasted and genuinely concerned for Papa’s health which wasn't surprising as “raw meat” has always been referred to in our household as if it were toxic material; (“Grace, that plate had RAW MEAT on it. Don’t put your fingers anywhere near your mouth and go scrub your hands”, or “Lily, don’t touch that counter, there was RAW MEAT near it and I haven’t disinfected it yet”).

The brave one at our table thoroughly enjoyed his lunch and polished it off as though he had grown up eating "tartare de boeuf" every Thursday for lunch. The girls and I did keep a close eye on him for the rest of the afternoon for any signs of severe E-coli poisoning, but he plowed through the afternoon and quipped that he had never felt stronger. I am still not tempted!

We are off to Paris on Saturday for the last 4 days of my parents stay here; we are all so excited.

Palaces, Speedos and Roman Ruins

On Tuesday, Mom, Dad and I headed up to the Palais des Papes (Palace of the Popes) for a guided tour. The palace dates back to the early 1300's when a French Pope was elected and wanted out of the dangerous Italy of his time. So, with the French King's blessing, the Catholic Church bought the town of Avignon and funded the building of what is now the largest surviving Gothic palace in all of Europe. Unfortunately, much damage was caused when it was a barracks for hundreds of soldiers in the 1800's (they whitewashed the frescos on the walls!). Fortunately, in what was the study of the Pope, many of the original frescoes survive along with the original roof with it's painted decorations; if ceilings could talk!

Meanwhile, with his artificial swimming leg swung over his shoulder and 2 eager girls in hand, Barry jumped on bus #3 to go to the outdoor swimming pool he had toured the other day. We had read that surfer-short-style men's bathing suits are a big no-no in France, so Barry had invested in a more modest version of the speedo that provided a little more coverage up the waist and down the legs. However, the whole outing was almost a wash as a worker at the pool directed Barry to the sign that clearly had a huge not permitted slash through any male bathing suit that was longer than a boxer. (Our Canadian brains are still finding this restriction puzzling. Any ideas?) Luckily Barry was permitted to enter after he rolled up his bathing suit to a higher level and fun was had by all. In any case, I am thinking that a speedo in a European cut would be a great gift for me to get Barry this festive season.

Yesterday was another great tourist day boating down the Rhone River to the town of Arles, a vital port city in Roman times. We only had time for a quick walk around the impressive, wow-we-definitely-aren't-in-B.C. Roman Arena. This is also the city where Van Gogh lived and painted, and also where he sliced off his earlobe after a crazy fight with his friend Gauguin. There is so much more to explore and learn here and we are already planning to return for a week-end this Fall. It's merely a 20 minute train ride away!

Tuesday Thoughts from a Guest Blogger

I thought that it was time for me to make an appearance on this adventure. It is hard to believe that we have now been in France for a week! We have really settled in and I feel great about where we are at so far. Here are a few musings and observations from me from our first week.

Food: I remember well searching for 45 minutes in a Chinese grocery store for oatmeal when we were in China 4 years ago. Each minute brought further angst and frustration. Attempts at communication involved gestures and my entire ten word mandarin vocabulary. I left empty handed and wishing for home. We have had no such difficulty here. Our grasp of french combined with the familiar brands have made it easy to stock our kitchen. There are some tastes that the kids need to get used to. For Grace it is extremes such as "This is the best cheese I have ever had" to " French milk is the absolute worst! I wish they had black and white cows in France". My romantic visions of eating fresh fruit and vegetables that are in season have come to fruition somewhat as a visit to a provencial market reaped rewards with extremely tasty melons, tomatoes and lovely olive tapenades. In addition the local grocery store has the same Pink Lady apples from Chile that I can buy at Safeway in Mission. The globalization of our food supply is well at hand here.

Space: Needless to say there is a lot less of it here. Our 400 square foot apartment is a far cry from our house back home. No grass to run on or outside area to let off steam. There is a comforting feel though to the close quarters as there is a sense of security having my family so close to me. It is a little difficult for the girls without their comforts of home but they are doing well. Watching Grace skip rope down the little lane by our house gave me a sense of being at peace to see her adapting so well.

The French: The numerous books that we read to research for our trip talked extensively of the rudeness of the french and their impatience with foreigners. So far we have found that people are very accommodating and helpful. From the staff at the School Registration Office (who decided that the fact that the girls had the same last name as me was good enough proof of adoption) to the security guard at the local municipal pool that gave me my very own tour of the pool (including an introduction to the director) as well as Joe at the local telecom shop that walked us through buying our mobile phone (not a technology that I am familiar with).

So one week down and we are in a better spot than I ever could have imagined.