How to Ride the Metro

I find the metro one of the most exciting places in all of Paris. It's always smelly, normally decently clean (as opposed to filthy) but it's still such an adventure. One travels down into the "under-life" (as opposed to the "above" life), through a maze of tunnels and pops up at his destination as if it was magic.

There are a few simple things that are wise to remember when taking the Paris metro to avoid being spotted as a tourist. Rule Number 1, don't speak loudly. I used to talk extremely loudly in the train, until I realized I was the only one doing it and other passangers were smothering me in looks of disgust.

Rule Number 2, you need a ticket or you can't get through the turnstiles. If your going into the suburbs like where I live you need a slightly different ticket which costs more because of the further distance. If you want to stay inside the greater Paris area, fork over around $1.6 in euros which is relatively decent.

Rule Number 3 is an unspoken rule; you mustn't speak to anyone. You must stare at the floor, read a book, listen to your i pod, anything but look or speak to other people (unless it's your boyfriend with whom you are liberally allowed to make-out). Your also supposed to give up your seat to the elderly but I've only seen that happen once or twice.

Another lesson I learned was push the button on the door when you want to get off the train. Otherwise, the door does not open and you'll go on down the line and end up who knows where. Don't be a tourist, push the button!

How a Normal Week Looks

Life at Ecole Les Cedres, is not one of mystery and intrigue. It is the life of an individual casting off his native tongue and accepting with open arms the French language with all the rules, complexities and precise phonetics. The individual is consumed, engrossed, devoted to it (and often to socialization over English movies, card games, and pot-lucks).

And while a day consists of 6 hours of classes and another 2 hours of homework, there's still a fair amount of free time. French primary schools have 4-day weeks, Monday, Tuesday, Thursday and Friday. As a result, I have a 4-day school week as well so parents with kids don't have to worry about baby-sitters.

Tuesday night is most often an evening of craziness since Wednesday can be entirely devoted to recuperation. Last Tueday night, some of us girls engrossed ourselves in a excursion to the local cinema (oops! theater) to see La Môme (directly translated,"the female kid"). It's a French bio-epic about Edith Piaf, the most famous French musician of all time from the 1930s-1950s. It was an extremely French film, some of the art being lost on us but we still liked it. And of course, we found the most amusing part of the film when the Americans spoke French with heavy American accents tipping us into fits of laughter.

Friday, it was my turn to give an exposé. An exposé is when you speak confidently in front of your class on a particular subject in French for 30 minutes. It might be the most stressful part of the school experience. My subject was the history of embroidery in the United States and it went pretty well. In the end, you're just so glad it's over you don't care how you did!

Friday night, my sister and I went with another student to an English music/church service in Paris. We normally go to a French church on Sundays but decided we really wanted to check out Hillsong. Hillsong is a church denomination out of Australia (with the great music) so everyone talks like an Aussi. It was like one really cool rock concert, the English was great, and we're trying to justify returning.

Sunday, we went into Paris for church, covering our noses in the metro and pretending to be French. We've found a French speaking Baptist church we've loyally frequented since October. When I first started going, I understood close to nothing. Now, I regularly understand perhaps 70% of what I hear. "Context clues" makes up another 5% so all in all I fair well but it takes a lot of concentration. After the service, we eat lunch some of our other church friends before heading out for a Sunday afternoon walk or even just back to school.

Tomorrow, well tomorrow I'll hand in my homework, take a pop quiz and continue to willingly drown myself in French.

Une Meilleur Moment en Espagne

This is a short paper I had to write for class about my favorite moment of my Spanish vacation. It's about waiting for a bus that never arrived, an event I found hugely amusant. This is also a small sample of what my French looks like after starting from scratch 8 months ago, this is about it.

Pour mes vacances, je suis allée en Espagne avec ma sœur Rose pour rendre une visite à mes grands parents. Ils sont à Malaga sur l’océan. Lundi, le troisième jour de mes vacances, mes grands parents ont décidé de visiter une vieille petite ville, dans les montagnes. Cette ville a la meilleure vue sur l’océan mais il faut prendre un bus pendant 30 minutes. La rue est très étroite et c’est impossible pour deux voiture d’y passer en même temps.

Apres une bonne journée dans cette petite ville, nous avons décidé de revenir à notre appartement à Malaga. Nous sommes allées à l’arrêt de bus pour l’attendre le bus. Le bus n’était pas là donc nous avons attendu avec tout le monde. Au bout de 20 minutes, un bus est arrivé mais ce n’était pas pour Malaga. Ma grand-mère n’était pas contente mais il n’y avait pas d’autre choix. 20 minutes plus tard, un deuxième bus est arrivé mais ce n’était pas non plus pour notre destination. Rose a décidé d’aller aux magasins à côté de la arrêt du bus et elle a trouvé quelque chose à acheter. 20 minutes plus tard, un troisième bus est arrivé ce n’était toujours pas notre bus. Environ 50 personnes attendaient le bus pour Malaga et tout le monde était très fâché. Nous avons fait une queue et nous avons parlé au sujet des problèmes avec le système de bus. Ma grand-mère était très fâchée quand une femme française a essayé de couper la queue.

1 heure plus tard, notre bus est arrivé et tout le monde l’a acclamé. Nous y sommes entrés mais il y avait un petit problème. Les portes n’étaient pas fermer mais le conducteur conduisait le bus. Je pensais que c’était encore une aventure et c’était très amusant.