First "Blog", a.k.a. Novella

So...this is my first blog, it is longer than most will be.

Currently, I am sitting in Chez MacDo, drinking a 1664 and eating fries. They made me order the fries, apparently just ordering a beer in McDonald's is a problem.

My first week in Bar le Duc has been interesting. As Kat (the other American language assistant) put it, I paved the way for all of the assistants because I arrived here almost a week ahead of everyone.

My arrival was a bit trying. I talked to a french man (Anthony) on the plane the entire trip over (and let me tell you, I am loopy after I have taken a sleeping pill but am still not able to sleep), and he told me that at least once while I'm here the French would go on strike. (So far, it's been twice). I got off the plane, found my bags, and on my way to the RER train that would take me into Paris, I learned the RER workers were on strike, and I would be lucky if there was even one train per hour. So my options were cab or bus. I decided to take the bus, because this is much cheaper, however the automated ticket machine does not take american credit cards that only have a magnetic strip and no computer chip. So with a line building up behind me, I briefly begin to panic, as I have no euro coins and there is no way to use paper money in the machine. Then to my surprise, a tall handsome man behind me kindly moves me aside and purchases me a ticket to the same train station he was going to, telling me I could take the metro from there to Gare de l'est, where my train to Bar le Duc was leaving from.

So little me and my giant suitcases (110 lbs together) are swept onto the bus by this tall french man (so stereotypically named Pierre). On the bus, he spoke to me in English and wrote down a large list of French movies for me to check out while I'm here. When we arrived at the stop, he carried my suitcases down through the metro tunnels, gave me his card, and put me on the correct train. While I was on the train, I was being stared down by a quite evil-looking man, who got off the train with me and hovered a little too close for comfort while I looked in dispair at the two flights of stairs I was going to have to lug my suitcases up to get to the train station. Luckily, another nicer looking man offered to help carry them up, and creepy man disappeared. Since this man had already paid his metro fare, he literally threw my bags through the automatic doors at the exit so that he would not have to pay again if he left.

From there, I lugged my bags (why, oh why, did I bring a duffle bag!) into Gare de l'est, dragging them at some points because my shoulders hurt so badly. I purchased minutes for my french cell phone, which subsequently died before I could recharge the minutes, so I purchased a phone card in order to use the payphones so I could call my contact person in Bar le Duc to tell her when I would be arriving. Finally, sandwich in hand, I sat down to wait for my train. Once on the train, I had a fairly articulate conversation in French with a woman about Obama, Sarkozy, Bush, and the state of the world in general.

I arrived in Bar le Duc in the afternoon, dropped my bags at the hotel, purchased a loaf of bread and a wheel of Camembert, ate half of each, and collapsed on my bed for the next 14 hours straight.

So now all of the bureaucratic nonsense can begin!

The next day, I went to pick up the keys for my new temporary home, l'Internat Poincare. I am leaving out all accents because it doesn't really matter, and I am finally able to use a non-French keyboard. I set up my bed with the sheets given to me (both the blankets and the sheets had many different forms of stains on them, from blood to yellow goo), and dropped off my stuff, then explored the town.

Thursday I went to Commercy, a town of 7,000 people east of BLD, to meet another American assistant. She is from Washington D.C. and is going crazy in a town of that size. We had a very long, very delicious, lunch. I had two helpings of everything, and it turns out my love affair with cheese is amusing to the French, even their blood is practically made of the stuff.

Friday I went to my first school (I am teaching at three) to check it out. I came in at recess and was standing talking to the other teachers when one small child came up and asked "Vous etes americaine?" I answered "Oui," and 10 seconds later I was surrounded by 15-20 adorable French children all saying "Hello", "How are you?" and "Good afternoon!". I then sat in on two classes, one of children who had had 1-2 years of French, and one first year class. The more advanced class was great because I sat at the back of the class and each time a child spoke English, they turned around to check with me if they said it correctly.

Saturday, I took the train to Nancy (further east of Commercy) with the American assistant from Commercy, and we went shopping! We were both having the problem of disgusting bedding given to us, so we bought sheets and beds, and went to the Musee de Nancy, where I was reintroduced to Emile Friant, and how stunningly photo-esque the faces in his paintings are. We ate at the place de Stanislas, where we each had a rather large steak and a glass of red wine.

Sunday...I did nothing. Everything is closed, and at first I found this relaxing, but by 4pm still with nothing to do, having taken a nap, watched a movie, and studied french, I was going a little stir crazy.

Today, I met the other American assistant, and also a Canadian assistant. I had seen him several times in the Internat, and it turns out neither he nor I talked to one another because we each thought the other was French and were too nervous to say anything other than "bonjour". Then we saw him on the road with a Canadian flag on his backpack, and Kat informed me there was a Canadian assistant, and BLD being as small as it is, we decided that he was indeed an assistant and we should talk to him.

Us four assistants are now deciding on where to go for our autumn break, it looks like it will be Belgium, Amsterdam, and Bologna, but it is all still tentative.

Okay, this is too long, sorry. The others will be shorter.