nerd blog post #28
Greetings,
Today's nerd blog title is a shout out to four things:
1. Something French
2. Something French
3. Someone American
4. A favourite pastime
Eight points to anyone who can guess them. They will be published in my next nerd blog post.
Also, David would like me to add that on the day I moved, I also helped carry an extremely awkward love seat through the Village to his apartment. He's offered me Canadian points for posting that. They are, unfortunately, non-transferable. I only accept letters and Skype calls. But yes, that also happened on August 26th, 2008. I hope you're enjoying it, DC!
Okay. Ahem.
German class was overwhelming. I'm still not discouraged, but I am behind and rattled at the end of the two hours. I had my homework done and participated all over the place. I sit in the front, next to one of my students, which is nice. I was kind of annoyed, though, because the teacher is kind of stern, and twice corrected my "American" accent. The third time, she pointed out to the class my "American" accent, and I was embarrassed that I was wrong (again) and didn't like the assumption. "Je suis canadienne!" She was quick to respond, "Tu as un accent americain." I was frustrated. "Non. J'ai un accent canadien." She moved on. After class, I stayed back to apologize for talking back. She apologized for pointing it out to everyone. Then we kissed. Not really. But we're pals now. I have a lot of homework before Friday's class...
Yesterday I got paid. We get paid once a month, at the end of the month. With the rent of the foyer, and my rent and deposit for this place, money was really tight. But yesterday, I was able to do my first real grocery shop so I could eat more than yogurt and bread.. Cynthia and I enjoyed a good dinner with salad and in the evening went to the Irish pub, O'Connells. I talked to the management there about hosting evenings with our students. They said they would extend Monday's Happy Hour (1/2 price pints) until last call for us, which is great. I also inquired as to whether or not they're hiring more bartenders, and they seemed eager to get my CV. I'm thinking on it, though. While I think I'd really enjoy it, I don't know if I want to give up the opportunity to travel on week-ends...
Today was my day off, and I had a to-do list as follows:
1. Plan this week-end
2. Get a bike
3. Laundry
4. Some other stuff that's not exciting
This is how I did:
1. This week-end I will be going to Paris and I got my train tickets. Though the details aren't worked out yet, I think I'll be staying with my dear friend, Viktor. Viktor was a fellow Drama major at Queen's and arrived in Paris on Saturday to go to clown college for a year. It's the best clown school in the world, and I'm very envious! I love clowning.. I don't know what I'll do there yet. I would like to see the main sites but not pay any money to go in or up them. I think I'll spend time just walking around and taking it all in. It will be so nice to see a friend from Canada! It's Viktor's birthday today.
2. I went to meet Bernard in a sketchy alleyway near my place. I found his bikes on a craigslist-type site. Bernard has two bikes that are pretty ghetto, but a good price. About $60, which is the cheapest you can find, really. That's just over the price of a monthly metro pass, and I plan on selling it before I go. Plus, it's good exercise and green. So I'm happy. Anyways, one of the bikes didn't have a seat, and the other one needed the handlebars fixed.. He said he'd do it tonight and we're meeting tomorrow morning at 830am to make the deal. Cynthia will come, too, and we'll get them both if she likes hers and if he pulls through with the parts. One of them is more of a mountain bike, but with wide handle bars and no gears. The other is a road bike. Cobblestones are an issue in this city. I asked my little brother which he thought I should take and he said the road bike. So I'll listen. He rides like a pro. It'll work out well anyways because that one's a man bike and the other is for a woman. And now here's the confession: ..... I'm a .... mmmmuch taller woman than Cynthia and it'll fit me better! I'm glad the bike thing is working out. Though I brought very little, I didn't leave behind my bike lock or the lights that little brother Ian gave me as a going away presie.
3. My laundry is drying as I write. Slowly, though, as it's a cool and grey day.
4. Yes. All done.
This evening, Cynthia and I are making dindins together and then I'm helping new roomie put together his bed. He's brought all sorts of trendy things into the apartment, like square plates and an i-pod player for the bathroom. I don't have an i-pod, but it looks neat. He also brought Andorra, my new friend. And three gerbils. And a half dozen plants. He loves all types of life. His name is Alexandre and he is great.
So hopefully I'll be riding to work tomorrow, navigating my way over the bumpy cobblestones and practicing for the epic journey to Saint-Malo. I've decided to do or see something new (and not lame) every week, and I think the bike will be a big help. I got a map of all of the bike trails in the land, and look forward to scoping them out.
I hope this finds you all well. Much love to you all.
Signing off,
Hincks.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Monday, September 29, 2008
Chapter 24: Presies in my Pigeon Hole
nerd blog post #27
Saying that there's nothing to do in Rennes on a Sunday is not me being a bored teenager whining about my parents choice to live here instead of Paris. It's just true. Every store is closed, some bus routes don't run, all night bars and boxes, banks, corner stores, grocery stores, museums, most restaurants and cafes.. All closed. Sunday is Rennes' dark day. I experienced a bit of the Sunday blues my first couple of weeks here. After Marche Day and Night Box dancing, Sunday seemed a little drab. Downtown, there are a couple of cafes (out of dozens) that are open. But really, it's quite different to what I'm used to, which is Sunday being no different than any weekday.
I like it now, though, for lot's of reasons. These are some:
1. I don't spend money.
2. I have to brainstorm activities and be creative.
3. It means that I'm usually outside more of the day.
4. It's a distinctly different day, and ends (or starts?) the week nicely.
5. It provides a forced day off for workers. (My big brother and I were talking yesterday on Skype and he brought up point 5, to give him the credit..) I think it's great. It means that people who would otherwise not be seeing their kids on the week-ends have one day to do so. And it's usually not the privileged working nights and week-ends, so it's nicer for those that have to work undesirable hours to have Sunday off.
So my Sunday.. I slept in after a night bar dance party, and in the afternoon, Cynthia and I went over to another American lecteur's place for lunch (lupper, more like). There were six of us there, and she cooked a delicious spaghetti dish with homemade meatballs. We contributed desert. It was nice.
Later, Cynthia and I did a big clean of the bathrooms and kitchen. Nicolas has been amazing at keeping this place so well-equipped that we wanted to do a big job for him. The common rooms are now spotless. We're getting a dishwasher this week, and he bought a brand new vacuum cleaner on the week-end.. This place is getting better and better!
I did my German homework. I haven't struggled so much since high school math. I wanted to call one of my many German friends to help me, but was a bit stubborn.. Anyways, figured it out and have class in a couple of hours.
I would like to award 89 points to everyone I talked to on Skype yesterday. Also, I discovered that we can conference call! Imagine. Schachter in TO, Doctor in the UK, and I on a three-way call. It was magical.
Best part:
Since Nicolas is in Saint-Malo during the week, his partner has moved in and will be living with us, too. So now there are four of us, which is awesome! I love parties.
It gets better:
I said four, but really there are five. There's a DOG too!! I almost died. Andorra is the best little dog I've ever seen. Cocker Spaniel size, but black and white, Andorra doesn't bark or leave presies on the carpet. I offered to walk her anytime. I'm pumped.
I taught two classes this morning. I love them. The first years are my favourites - so keen and optimistic. I'm organizing a first-year English-speaking kind of club.. We'll have movie nights and bar nights and little pots. Unlike the English club I'm part of, this one will be all in English. So I passed around a sheet of paper, and every single student signed up. They wanted to know when it would start and had various (hilarious) ideas for different kind of nights. Their ideas included:
-country dancing
-costume parties
-Irish night
-and one real treat of a student suggested a "Contest of Drunk."
I don't even know what an Irish night means exactly, but their enthusiasm is appreciated, and I'll get that started soon.
I'm also going to celebrate Thanksgiving with the Monday class on the 13th. No turkey, but definitely treats. The evening that night, I'm making a Thanksgiving feast and inviting people over. This will be themed, and no food for peeps who don't dress up. Some of you know that Thanksgiving is my favourite holiday.. No gifts, little commercial attention... Just food, booze, company, reflection, and a day off school/work. I also really like holidays such as Halloween, Homecoming and Players. And I love throwing surprise b-day parties. For 5 points, what is your favourite holiday?
I'm getting along really well with my office-mate. We never see each other, but we leave each other notes sometimes. She left me a nice one on Friday asking me if I'd be interested in a Canadian/Breton evening.. Or, she wondered, if we couldn't find more Canadians, I'd be interested in meeting her French friends. She also asked if I like oysters. The answer to everything is yes.
In the department, all of the staff have little mail boxes with our names on them. We're to check them often, as it's the main way we're told about meetings and stuff. It took me a few days to realize that my mail box is the same thing as my pigeon hole. I was told by several profs that they would let me know by leaving a message in my pigeon hole. My WHAT!? Now, I don't know if that term is ever used in Canada, but I certainly have never heard it, and I can't say pigeon hole without laughing.. It sounds ridiculous. Especially said by a French person. Pigeon is said in three syllables, and the 'o' in hole is drawn out forever.. Hilarious.
This morning there was a little presie in my pigeon hole! I had mentioned before that I adore Marmite, that strong and bitter British spread. You either love it or hate it, and most hate it. But I think it's amazing. So does my dad. Anyways, in my p-hole was a box of Marmite cookies! Which I didn't even know existed!! How exciting. They're really tasty.
If I could, I would leave you all presies in your pigeon holes. Much love to Canada, Canadian pigeon holes, and all pigeons and holes in general.
Signing off,
Hincks.
Saying that there's nothing to do in Rennes on a Sunday is not me being a bored teenager whining about my parents choice to live here instead of Paris. It's just true. Every store is closed, some bus routes don't run, all night bars and boxes, banks, corner stores, grocery stores, museums, most restaurants and cafes.. All closed. Sunday is Rennes' dark day. I experienced a bit of the Sunday blues my first couple of weeks here. After Marche Day and Night Box dancing, Sunday seemed a little drab. Downtown, there are a couple of cafes (out of dozens) that are open. But really, it's quite different to what I'm used to, which is Sunday being no different than any weekday.
I like it now, though, for lot's of reasons. These are some:
1. I don't spend money.
2. I have to brainstorm activities and be creative.
3. It means that I'm usually outside more of the day.
4. It's a distinctly different day, and ends (or starts?) the week nicely.
5. It provides a forced day off for workers. (My big brother and I were talking yesterday on Skype and he brought up point 5, to give him the credit..) I think it's great. It means that people who would otherwise not be seeing their kids on the week-ends have one day to do so. And it's usually not the privileged working nights and week-ends, so it's nicer for those that have to work undesirable hours to have Sunday off.
So my Sunday.. I slept in after a night bar dance party, and in the afternoon, Cynthia and I went over to another American lecteur's place for lunch (lupper, more like). There were six of us there, and she cooked a delicious spaghetti dish with homemade meatballs. We contributed desert. It was nice.
Later, Cynthia and I did a big clean of the bathrooms and kitchen. Nicolas has been amazing at keeping this place so well-equipped that we wanted to do a big job for him. The common rooms are now spotless. We're getting a dishwasher this week, and he bought a brand new vacuum cleaner on the week-end.. This place is getting better and better!
I did my German homework. I haven't struggled so much since high school math. I wanted to call one of my many German friends to help me, but was a bit stubborn.. Anyways, figured it out and have class in a couple of hours.
I would like to award 89 points to everyone I talked to on Skype yesterday. Also, I discovered that we can conference call! Imagine. Schachter in TO, Doctor in the UK, and I on a three-way call. It was magical.
Best part:
Since Nicolas is in Saint-Malo during the week, his partner has moved in and will be living with us, too. So now there are four of us, which is awesome! I love parties.
It gets better:
I said four, but really there are five. There's a DOG too!! I almost died. Andorra is the best little dog I've ever seen. Cocker Spaniel size, but black and white, Andorra doesn't bark or leave presies on the carpet. I offered to walk her anytime. I'm pumped.
I taught two classes this morning. I love them. The first years are my favourites - so keen and optimistic. I'm organizing a first-year English-speaking kind of club.. We'll have movie nights and bar nights and little pots. Unlike the English club I'm part of, this one will be all in English. So I passed around a sheet of paper, and every single student signed up. They wanted to know when it would start and had various (hilarious) ideas for different kind of nights. Their ideas included:
-country dancing
-costume parties
-Irish night
-and one real treat of a student suggested a "Contest of Drunk."
I don't even know what an Irish night means exactly, but their enthusiasm is appreciated, and I'll get that started soon.
I'm also going to celebrate Thanksgiving with the Monday class on the 13th. No turkey, but definitely treats. The evening that night, I'm making a Thanksgiving feast and inviting people over. This will be themed, and no food for peeps who don't dress up. Some of you know that Thanksgiving is my favourite holiday.. No gifts, little commercial attention... Just food, booze, company, reflection, and a day off school/work. I also really like holidays such as Halloween, Homecoming and Players. And I love throwing surprise b-day parties. For 5 points, what is your favourite holiday?
I'm getting along really well with my office-mate. We never see each other, but we leave each other notes sometimes. She left me a nice one on Friday asking me if I'd be interested in a Canadian/Breton evening.. Or, she wondered, if we couldn't find more Canadians, I'd be interested in meeting her French friends. She also asked if I like oysters. The answer to everything is yes.
In the department, all of the staff have little mail boxes with our names on them. We're to check them often, as it's the main way we're told about meetings and stuff. It took me a few days to realize that my mail box is the same thing as my pigeon hole. I was told by several profs that they would let me know by leaving a message in my pigeon hole. My WHAT!? Now, I don't know if that term is ever used in Canada, but I certainly have never heard it, and I can't say pigeon hole without laughing.. It sounds ridiculous. Especially said by a French person. Pigeon is said in three syllables, and the 'o' in hole is drawn out forever.. Hilarious.
This morning there was a little presie in my pigeon hole! I had mentioned before that I adore Marmite, that strong and bitter British spread. You either love it or hate it, and most hate it. But I think it's amazing. So does my dad. Anyways, in my p-hole was a box of Marmite cookies! Which I didn't even know existed!! How exciting. They're really tasty.
If I could, I would leave you all presies in your pigeon holes. Much love to Canada, Canadian pigeon holes, and all pigeons and holes in general.
Signing off,
Hincks.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
THIS IS NOT A CHAPTER.
nerd blog post #26
Oh hey you guyz.
I have received over 560 e-mails, phone calls, faxes, t-bombs and carrier pigeon notes, begging me to post my mailing address. My readers have letters piled by the door, but are unsure of where to send them.. I apologize for this, and will now release this vital information via my nerd blog.
And so, I am at:
18, place de la Marechal Juin
apt. 123
35000 Rennes
France
If you want to be perfect, you add a diagonal accent heading to the top left on the 'e' of Marechal.
I love to write real letters and to send postcards. Really. I love it. By giving me your mailing address, you are guaranteed to receive mail. Best of all, though, you gain 7 points! What a deal! You can e-mail me your addy (emily.hincks@gmail.com) if you don't want the other subscribers to stalk you. It could happen....
Hope you all have a good day!
Love,
Hincks.
Oh hey you guyz.
I have received over 560 e-mails, phone calls, faxes, t-bombs and carrier pigeon notes, begging me to post my mailing address. My readers have letters piled by the door, but are unsure of where to send them.. I apologize for this, and will now release this vital information via my nerd blog.
And so, I am at:
18, place de la Marechal Juin
apt. 123
35000 Rennes
France
If you want to be perfect, you add a diagonal accent heading to the top left on the 'e' of Marechal.
I love to write real letters and to send postcards. Really. I love it. By giving me your mailing address, you are guaranteed to receive mail. Best of all, though, you gain 7 points! What a deal! You can e-mail me your addy (emily.hincks@gmail.com) if you don't want the other subscribers to stalk you. It could happen....
Hope you all have a good day!
Love,
Hincks.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Chapter 23: Jacques Cartier is Awarded 16 Points
nerd blog post #24
Last night, one of the other lecteurs invited Cynthia, another lecteur, and I over for dindins. The three of them are American, and very nice. She made a delicious salad and a tasty pasta. We drank wine and ate around a table. It was a lot of fun, and a perfect non-outing for my cold. Very lovely.
This morning, Cynthia and I got up early for Mayor Day! This was part of the Welcome Package we received for being new in Rennes. It started at 930am, and though we both wanted to sleep, we got up and went. And didn't regret it for a second! Very dorky, very fun.
First, we were put into groups and led on a tour of historic Rennes. I remembered everything so I can take friends on it. We learned a lot about Rennes history, divided in two by a fire in 1720 that destroyed much of the downtown. 900 houses.. After that fire, much was re-built, and we toured the Opera, the Mayor's land, the old cathedral, and several other landmarks. It was great.
After that, we went to the Opera and saw a performance by a pianist and singer, and some people talked. Then we met the Mayor. I was pumped. I thought, though, that he would wear old fashioned garb, but he just wore a suit.. I was disappointed. It reminded me of the story my grandpa told me. The story is as follows:
When he was four and living in Windsor, ON, there was to be a great parade featuring the Prince of Wales. He was super excited and he and his family waited anxiously for the prince to parade by. He was utterly disappointed when the Prince of Wales turned out to be a man, and not the biggest of all water mammals.
I felt that same disappointment when the mayor of Rennes was not in a white wig and high socks.. Anyways, he talked about the city, and then we had the chance to ask questions. I love asking questions, but was all stuffed up, and didn't want the cute guy in front of me to hear my nasally voice.. Ah, well.
This was followed by a reception that Cynthia and I dominated like it was our J-O-B. We were alllll over the free cider and goodies. We did the impolite thing of standing at the buffet table and stuffing our faces.
With that free lunch, we headed to the train station where we purchased tickets to Saint-Malo. A fifty minute train ride and less than $20 (return) later, we were in one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen in my life. Anyone who comes to visit me will be forced to visit Saint-Malo. I can't even describe it.. But it was amazing. Jacques Cartier was from Saint-Malo, and by order of the King, set sail from the port there in 1554 (I think) with two boats of 120 crew members each. That's a lot. Twenty days later, he arrived in Newfoundland. He can be thanked for Quebec. There was a tourist spot called Maison de Quebec and many of the province's flags flew high. I felt very patriotic! We bi-passed the museum this time, though, because we wanted to hit the beach.
It was about twenty degrees and sunny, and we laid out our towels and stayed for hours. I went swimming in the ocean. There's a great salt-water swimming pool right on the sea, but I opted for the real thing. It was freezing. There were a couple of kids in the pool section, and I was the only one in the actual ocean. The first thing I did was to take a sip of the water.. Yup, it was real! Looking across, I imagined Canada, and it felt good to know that it was the same ocean.. I didn't swim too long. It was really, really cold.
On the beach, I read my book, which had been neglected. We also decided to pretend we were French, and took our tops off. How liberating! We ate a picnic lunch of cheese and baguette and fruit on the beach. My chest is red.. It had never seen the light of day.
The only downfall to the beach was a rowdy and obnoxious group of Americans who were sitting nearby. They have such a bad reputation of being obnoxious, and it's because there are those that reaaallly spoil it for the rest. French peeps on a beach are chilling. They are sitting in their speedos, sans tops, reading, sipping wine, having small chats. They are not singing, getting wasted, throwing each other around. When in Rome.... This group didn't get it. It was annoying. I feel badly that a small group like this gives an entire nation a bad rep.
When the tide had completely covered the swimming pool and all the big rocks in front of us, we packed up and walked around the town. It's quite small, and though beautiful, we were both glad to be living in Rennes. We had a coffee at a little cafe and met a couple from New Jersey who are now living in France. They have daughters our age and were really excited to talk to us, and suggest some places to visit.
We got home around 9pm and Cynthia headed over to the married ex-roomies house for a Wii Party with the other lecteurs. I opted to come here and nerd blog. Later, we'll hit the town.
Today was one of the best days I've had. It was so perfect. I feel almost completely better, and the sun did me well.
I would like to award 100 points to all of my Kingston friends who are partying like rockstars this Homecoming week-end. Homecoming beats every holiday, hands down. If I were there, I would be having a ball.. I look forward to my next Homecoming. I'ma flip a boat and light it on fire.
And so, happy Homecoming, merci Mayor, and congratulations Cartier.
With love,
Hincks.
Last night, one of the other lecteurs invited Cynthia, another lecteur, and I over for dindins. The three of them are American, and very nice. She made a delicious salad and a tasty pasta. We drank wine and ate around a table. It was a lot of fun, and a perfect non-outing for my cold. Very lovely.
This morning, Cynthia and I got up early for Mayor Day! This was part of the Welcome Package we received for being new in Rennes. It started at 930am, and though we both wanted to sleep, we got up and went. And didn't regret it for a second! Very dorky, very fun.
First, we were put into groups and led on a tour of historic Rennes. I remembered everything so I can take friends on it. We learned a lot about Rennes history, divided in two by a fire in 1720 that destroyed much of the downtown. 900 houses.. After that fire, much was re-built, and we toured the Opera, the Mayor's land, the old cathedral, and several other landmarks. It was great.
After that, we went to the Opera and saw a performance by a pianist and singer, and some people talked. Then we met the Mayor. I was pumped. I thought, though, that he would wear old fashioned garb, but he just wore a suit.. I was disappointed. It reminded me of the story my grandpa told me. The story is as follows:
When he was four and living in Windsor, ON, there was to be a great parade featuring the Prince of Wales. He was super excited and he and his family waited anxiously for the prince to parade by. He was utterly disappointed when the Prince of Wales turned out to be a man, and not the biggest of all water mammals.
I felt that same disappointment when the mayor of Rennes was not in a white wig and high socks.. Anyways, he talked about the city, and then we had the chance to ask questions. I love asking questions, but was all stuffed up, and didn't want the cute guy in front of me to hear my nasally voice.. Ah, well.
This was followed by a reception that Cynthia and I dominated like it was our J-O-B. We were alllll over the free cider and goodies. We did the impolite thing of standing at the buffet table and stuffing our faces.
With that free lunch, we headed to the train station where we purchased tickets to Saint-Malo. A fifty minute train ride and less than $20 (return) later, we were in one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen in my life. Anyone who comes to visit me will be forced to visit Saint-Malo. I can't even describe it.. But it was amazing. Jacques Cartier was from Saint-Malo, and by order of the King, set sail from the port there in 1554 (I think) with two boats of 120 crew members each. That's a lot. Twenty days later, he arrived in Newfoundland. He can be thanked for Quebec. There was a tourist spot called Maison de Quebec and many of the province's flags flew high. I felt very patriotic! We bi-passed the museum this time, though, because we wanted to hit the beach.
It was about twenty degrees and sunny, and we laid out our towels and stayed for hours. I went swimming in the ocean. There's a great salt-water swimming pool right on the sea, but I opted for the real thing. It was freezing. There were a couple of kids in the pool section, and I was the only one in the actual ocean. The first thing I did was to take a sip of the water.. Yup, it was real! Looking across, I imagined Canada, and it felt good to know that it was the same ocean.. I didn't swim too long. It was really, really cold.
On the beach, I read my book, which had been neglected. We also decided to pretend we were French, and took our tops off. How liberating! We ate a picnic lunch of cheese and baguette and fruit on the beach. My chest is red.. It had never seen the light of day.
The only downfall to the beach was a rowdy and obnoxious group of Americans who were sitting nearby. They have such a bad reputation of being obnoxious, and it's because there are those that reaaallly spoil it for the rest. French peeps on a beach are chilling. They are sitting in their speedos, sans tops, reading, sipping wine, having small chats. They are not singing, getting wasted, throwing each other around. When in Rome.... This group didn't get it. It was annoying. I feel badly that a small group like this gives an entire nation a bad rep.
When the tide had completely covered the swimming pool and all the big rocks in front of us, we packed up and walked around the town. It's quite small, and though beautiful, we were both glad to be living in Rennes. We had a coffee at a little cafe and met a couple from New Jersey who are now living in France. They have daughters our age and were really excited to talk to us, and suggest some places to visit.
We got home around 9pm and Cynthia headed over to the married ex-roomies house for a Wii Party with the other lecteurs. I opted to come here and nerd blog. Later, we'll hit the town.
Today was one of the best days I've had. It was so perfect. I feel almost completely better, and the sun did me well.
I would like to award 100 points to all of my Kingston friends who are partying like rockstars this Homecoming week-end. Homecoming beats every holiday, hands down. If I were there, I would be having a ball.. I look forward to my next Homecoming. I'ma flip a boat and light it on fire.
And so, happy Homecoming, merci Mayor, and congratulations Cartier.
With love,
Hincks.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Chapter 22: Freitag ist wunderbar
nerd blog post #23
On August 25th, 2008, at 11:57pm, I submitted the final essay for my Master's degree, electronically. I then looked around my room, which was a complete disaster. Two suitcases lay open and empty, my passport and various other important documents were mixed up with garbage bags for Goodwill, garbage bags for garbage, and all of the clothes and things I was to pack. And so I did the natural thing, which was obviously to quickly get changed and run down the street to the local pub entitled the Artful Dodger, where a dozen or so friends were ready for one last hoorah.
The next day was spent packing, running around, and trying to chill with friends and family. At the airport, even though I was sure I was underweight (my luggage, not me..), I was almost 10kg over, and had five minutes to make some hasty decisions as to what to leave behind. No, I would never payyy to bring extra stuff. And so my poor parents and Bronwyn stood around as I whipped clothes and books into different piles, and finally had two suitcases that barely met the limit.
Yes, dear readers, it has been exactly one month today since I left the true North, strong, and free.
For any of you who read Bronco's open letter to Cynthia re: my haircutting abilities in the comments section of yesterday's post, I would like to retaliate by saying the following:
1. Yes, I butchered Bronco's hair. Yes, it was thirteen years ago. And no, I didn't understand that curly hair, when dry, is shorter than when wet. Blame my parents for giving me the genes they did..
2. I was the victim in the infamous curling iron catastrophe of 1997. The victim.
3. Cynthia's hair looks great. Then we cut mine. Also great. Euro chic1000.net.
Last night I did what I said, which was to tidy up my room and write some e-mees. I also talked to some peeps on Skype. Skype is unreal, my friends, and I cannot encourage you enough to get on that train. It's free and you can see my face. I'll maybe even show you my lung x-ray. Just do it.
Now, it costs a pretty penny to come to France, but it would have been well-worth it for any of you to come just to see me in my first German class. It was amazingly awkward.. There are two two-hour classes a week, and I missed the first three classes because.. well, one because I didn't know yet, and the others because Doc was here and I wanted to see him the whole time. So I showed up on the fourth class, explained to the prof that I'm a lecteur, sat down in the front row (where the good kids sit!) and waited for everyone else to file in.
I don't speak German, but I also don't not speak German. With a few German friends, and a shameless will to try, I can understand some convos and say some things. I can memorize vocabulary like lines in a play. What I lack are the fundamentals of verb conjugations and placement, and a basic understanding of how the language works. Not so simple, but not square 1 either.
I knew that I would be behind, not because I jumped in late, but because these students have taken German throughout high school. I didn't know that I would be completely lost. I didn't think about the fact that all non-German would be in French, and at rapid speed. My head was spinning from the start. A few minutes in, it was time for each student to present their homework, which was to present two sides of a political debate to the class, in a couple of minutes. Since I had missed the other classes, and since she could see that perhaps I wasn't following anything, she asked me to go up to the front of the class and talk about myself for a few minutes..
And so I started..
My name is Emily. I have brown hair and brown eyes and freckles.
In what seemed like an eternity, I told the class everything I possibly could about myself, including that I don't have a dog or play guitar or tennis, that my brother has green eyes and that I live in the city. Eventually, she cut me off and I could sit down.
At the end of the class, she held me back and told me that perhaps I should consider a lower level. The next level down is the lowest level, which is for students who have never taken German before, aka the baby class. No thanks, I told her. I'll catch up.
I'm excited to see what four hours a week will do for my German, and if I'll make some friends in my class. I was concerned that I'd maybe get German and French mixed up, but I realize that since German is being taught in French, if that makes sense, it's impossible to melange the two. Needless to say, I have a lot of homework before Monday's class! I'm pumped.
The best part of my day is often the morning, when I checkee e-mees. Some days are better than others, no doubt, but so far there has always been something to read from home. Due to the time difference, the morning is when most of them come in, as most peeps do their internet business at night. Today I wondered if it was unhealthy to look forward to morning e-mees so much.. If I'm living here with too much of my heart back in Canada. I don't think so, though. I think it's natural, especially in the first weeks here. This morning was like Christmas/Hannukah! I heard from some dear friends for the first time, and from my aunt, who has not been so well the past couple of years. It was an amazing kick-start to my day.
Now, I'll venture downtown to buy dental floss. I'ma floss, for real this time. Next person who sees Dr. Katchy can tell him, and award him with 5 points. I'll also get my bank card, which was embarrassingly eaten by an ATM because I didn't understand which pin code to use... Then, some patio chillage and grandparent lettering. The rest of the week-end is still up in the air, but Rennes is sunny and Hinckster is happy.
Love to you all.
Hincks.
On August 25th, 2008, at 11:57pm, I submitted the final essay for my Master's degree, electronically. I then looked around my room, which was a complete disaster. Two suitcases lay open and empty, my passport and various other important documents were mixed up with garbage bags for Goodwill, garbage bags for garbage, and all of the clothes and things I was to pack. And so I did the natural thing, which was obviously to quickly get changed and run down the street to the local pub entitled the Artful Dodger, where a dozen or so friends were ready for one last hoorah.
The next day was spent packing, running around, and trying to chill with friends and family. At the airport, even though I was sure I was underweight (my luggage, not me..), I was almost 10kg over, and had five minutes to make some hasty decisions as to what to leave behind. No, I would never payyy to bring extra stuff. And so my poor parents and Bronwyn stood around as I whipped clothes and books into different piles, and finally had two suitcases that barely met the limit.
Yes, dear readers, it has been exactly one month today since I left the true North, strong, and free.
For any of you who read Bronco's open letter to Cynthia re: my haircutting abilities in the comments section of yesterday's post, I would like to retaliate by saying the following:
1. Yes, I butchered Bronco's hair. Yes, it was thirteen years ago. And no, I didn't understand that curly hair, when dry, is shorter than when wet. Blame my parents for giving me the genes they did..
2. I was the victim in the infamous curling iron catastrophe of 1997. The victim.
3. Cynthia's hair looks great. Then we cut mine. Also great. Euro chic1000.net.
Last night I did what I said, which was to tidy up my room and write some e-mees. I also talked to some peeps on Skype. Skype is unreal, my friends, and I cannot encourage you enough to get on that train. It's free and you can see my face. I'll maybe even show you my lung x-ray. Just do it.
Now, it costs a pretty penny to come to France, but it would have been well-worth it for any of you to come just to see me in my first German class. It was amazingly awkward.. There are two two-hour classes a week, and I missed the first three classes because.. well, one because I didn't know yet, and the others because Doc was here and I wanted to see him the whole time. So I showed up on the fourth class, explained to the prof that I'm a lecteur, sat down in the front row (where the good kids sit!) and waited for everyone else to file in.
I don't speak German, but I also don't not speak German. With a few German friends, and a shameless will to try, I can understand some convos and say some things. I can memorize vocabulary like lines in a play. What I lack are the fundamentals of verb conjugations and placement, and a basic understanding of how the language works. Not so simple, but not square 1 either.
I knew that I would be behind, not because I jumped in late, but because these students have taken German throughout high school. I didn't know that I would be completely lost. I didn't think about the fact that all non-German would be in French, and at rapid speed. My head was spinning from the start. A few minutes in, it was time for each student to present their homework, which was to present two sides of a political debate to the class, in a couple of minutes. Since I had missed the other classes, and since she could see that perhaps I wasn't following anything, she asked me to go up to the front of the class and talk about myself for a few minutes..
And so I started..
My name is Emily. I have brown hair and brown eyes and freckles.
In what seemed like an eternity, I told the class everything I possibly could about myself, including that I don't have a dog or play guitar or tennis, that my brother has green eyes and that I live in the city. Eventually, she cut me off and I could sit down.
At the end of the class, she held me back and told me that perhaps I should consider a lower level. The next level down is the lowest level, which is for students who have never taken German before, aka the baby class. No thanks, I told her. I'll catch up.
I'm excited to see what four hours a week will do for my German, and if I'll make some friends in my class. I was concerned that I'd maybe get German and French mixed up, but I realize that since German is being taught in French, if that makes sense, it's impossible to melange the two. Needless to say, I have a lot of homework before Monday's class! I'm pumped.
The best part of my day is often the morning, when I checkee e-mees. Some days are better than others, no doubt, but so far there has always been something to read from home. Due to the time difference, the morning is when most of them come in, as most peeps do their internet business at night. Today I wondered if it was unhealthy to look forward to morning e-mees so much.. If I'm living here with too much of my heart back in Canada. I don't think so, though. I think it's natural, especially in the first weeks here. This morning was like Christmas/Hannukah! I heard from some dear friends for the first time, and from my aunt, who has not been so well the past couple of years. It was an amazing kick-start to my day.
Now, I'll venture downtown to buy dental floss. I'ma floss, for real this time. Next person who sees Dr. Katchy can tell him, and award him with 5 points. I'll also get my bank card, which was embarrassingly eaten by an ATM because I didn't understand which pin code to use... Then, some patio chillage and grandparent lettering. The rest of the week-end is still up in the air, but Rennes is sunny and Hinckster is happy.
Love to you all.
Hincks.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Chapter 21: Eel Me
nerd blog post #22
I was thinking today that it's been ages since I last wrote, but it has only been two days.. I guess they have been eventful.
After I blogged on Tuesday, I had a snooze, and thought I would just sleep an hour or so. Just before 1pm, Cynthia came into my room... She thought that maybe I was sad and refusing to get out of bed. Nope, just actually snoozing. I did get up then, and was kind of disappointed I'd wasted so much of the day.
I went to the slum motel and was happy to get everything out of there, and clean up the room. As I dragged my suitcase back to the new pad, I thought of how many times I've moved in the past five years, and all the help I needed, and how much poor Raffi had to do.. This time, I have two suitcases, and it's more than I need to live. I think the next time I move, I'ma downgrade to one. It feels great to finally and officially be out of that horrid land.
In the afternoon, I met P-A and some of the lecteurs to check out Rennes' museum. Good news? $1.50 entrance. Bad news? They're renovating until next Spring so all we saw was t Egyptian artifacts and some Italian paintings. Not bad, but small. Worse news? Even after the renovations, there will be no dinos.
In the evening, the English society, that dorky on-campus club, had a quiz night that we were invited to. It was at a bar on Thirsty Street. I thought it would be lame, but wanted to go to show support. Turned out to be really fun! Close to eighty students were there, all pumped to drink beer, eat peanuts, and answer questions (in French) about various "English" topics. Pretty funny. I had a good time. I was on a team of mostly lecteurs, so we dominated US politics (3 Americans), British music (3 Brits) and Canadian Theatre (just joking, didn't happen). I plan on attending the bi-weekly Quiz Nights. Winning is a favourite hobby, even if it's against freens.
Yesterday, I taught in the morning and then Cynthia and I went to out first Lindyhop dance class. But just like the week before, we couldn't find it! Rennes does not want us to dance.. Instead, we ended up on a two hour walk, discovering the huuuuge park in Rennes that has tons of beautiful flower gardens, miles of trails, and immaculately kept grounds. All walled in. We loved it.
Returning home, we made a good dinner and then, after much indecision, decided to switch rooms. She preferred the bigger room with the double bed, and I didn't really care, I just wanted to finally unpack for real and feel like a room (any room) was mine. So now I'm in the smaller of the two, which isn't that small, and has a balcony. I'm very happy. I rearranged the furniture to make the most of the space, and am purring in my own room. Balcony doors wide open, no doubt. Today my other roommate, Nicolas, offered me his futon. I'ma take it, since it's a double, and I prefer the double. Plus, it's better for when friends come to visit.
I haven't said much about the third roommate, so I will now. Nicolas is a French man in his mid-twenties who owns this land and rents it out to Cythia and I for an excellent price. He takes care of all the bills, and does all the handymanning around the apartment. He just started school in Saint-Malo and has an apartment there, too, so is there most of the week, and here on week-ends. He is super nice and I like him a lot. Being the more outgoing of the two of us, I bully him with endless questions whenever he is home, and now know quite a lot about him, his family, his childhood pets, etc... We're all buds now. He told us that if we ever want to go to Saint-Malo for the week-end, we could stay at his pad there. It overlooks the ocean! Today, he introduced us to France's version of craigslist, and we found bikes, and he said he'd help us get them with his car. Cynthia and I are planning to bike to Saint-Malo this October. And that's Nicolas. I think he's wonderful.
Oh, also, P-A was RIPed yesterday. I want to make my own life here - get involved in everything possible, plan my own time, play sports, Lindyhop, teach well, make friends.. And sometimes even the handsomest of French bfs can get in the way. No more tales of Thelma or adventures in the back fields and forests of Rennes.
Today was a long teaching day as Cynthia had her off-your-top medical examination and I covered more than two of her classes. It was a bit hectic, and I also have a small cold that's been annoying. Came yesterday, should be gone tomorrow.
My students were asking me if I planned on going to Thirsty Street tonight, but I said that I think I'll rest my sore throat instead. After class, a very shy young man took his time leaving, and then came up to my desk and said, "Do you want to be 'eeled?" I didn't get it. He repeated, "Do you want to be 'eeled??" OOHH HEALED! Yes, yes I do want to be healed! "You take a hot rum and 'oney, and you drink zis. You'll be 'eeled. You can horder it at Sirsty Street." Thanks. Great advice, great 'eeling advice. 'Eel me, Sirsty Street. But still, even with that perscription, I'll be staying in tonight. I'll get my room all ready to go, and practice my German before my first class tomorrow morning! And Cynthia is trusting me to cut her hair.... We'll see how long this friendship lasts.
An epic trip to Saint-Malo is in the works for Saturday, which includes an afternoon at the beach and a night box until the morning train.. Epic. I love it.
But first, time to get rid of this cold.
With love,
Hincks
I was thinking today that it's been ages since I last wrote, but it has only been two days.. I guess they have been eventful.
After I blogged on Tuesday, I had a snooze, and thought I would just sleep an hour or so. Just before 1pm, Cynthia came into my room... She thought that maybe I was sad and refusing to get out of bed. Nope, just actually snoozing. I did get up then, and was kind of disappointed I'd wasted so much of the day.
I went to the slum motel and was happy to get everything out of there, and clean up the room. As I dragged my suitcase back to the new pad, I thought of how many times I've moved in the past five years, and all the help I needed, and how much poor Raffi had to do.. This time, I have two suitcases, and it's more than I need to live. I think the next time I move, I'ma downgrade to one. It feels great to finally and officially be out of that horrid land.
In the afternoon, I met P-A and some of the lecteurs to check out Rennes' museum. Good news? $1.50 entrance. Bad news? They're renovating until next Spring so all we saw was t Egyptian artifacts and some Italian paintings. Not bad, but small. Worse news? Even after the renovations, there will be no dinos.
In the evening, the English society, that dorky on-campus club, had a quiz night that we were invited to. It was at a bar on Thirsty Street. I thought it would be lame, but wanted to go to show support. Turned out to be really fun! Close to eighty students were there, all pumped to drink beer, eat peanuts, and answer questions (in French) about various "English" topics. Pretty funny. I had a good time. I was on a team of mostly lecteurs, so we dominated US politics (3 Americans), British music (3 Brits) and Canadian Theatre (just joking, didn't happen). I plan on attending the bi-weekly Quiz Nights. Winning is a favourite hobby, even if it's against freens.
Yesterday, I taught in the morning and then Cynthia and I went to out first Lindyhop dance class. But just like the week before, we couldn't find it! Rennes does not want us to dance.. Instead, we ended up on a two hour walk, discovering the huuuuge park in Rennes that has tons of beautiful flower gardens, miles of trails, and immaculately kept grounds. All walled in. We loved it.
Returning home, we made a good dinner and then, after much indecision, decided to switch rooms. She preferred the bigger room with the double bed, and I didn't really care, I just wanted to finally unpack for real and feel like a room (any room) was mine. So now I'm in the smaller of the two, which isn't that small, and has a balcony. I'm very happy. I rearranged the furniture to make the most of the space, and am purring in my own room. Balcony doors wide open, no doubt. Today my other roommate, Nicolas, offered me his futon. I'ma take it, since it's a double, and I prefer the double. Plus, it's better for when friends come to visit.
I haven't said much about the third roommate, so I will now. Nicolas is a French man in his mid-twenties who owns this land and rents it out to Cythia and I for an excellent price. He takes care of all the bills, and does all the handymanning around the apartment. He just started school in Saint-Malo and has an apartment there, too, so is there most of the week, and here on week-ends. He is super nice and I like him a lot. Being the more outgoing of the two of us, I bully him with endless questions whenever he is home, and now know quite a lot about him, his family, his childhood pets, etc... We're all buds now. He told us that if we ever want to go to Saint-Malo for the week-end, we could stay at his pad there. It overlooks the ocean! Today, he introduced us to France's version of craigslist, and we found bikes, and he said he'd help us get them with his car. Cynthia and I are planning to bike to Saint-Malo this October. And that's Nicolas. I think he's wonderful.
Oh, also, P-A was RIPed yesterday. I want to make my own life here - get involved in everything possible, plan my own time, play sports, Lindyhop, teach well, make friends.. And sometimes even the handsomest of French bfs can get in the way. No more tales of Thelma or adventures in the back fields and forests of Rennes.
Today was a long teaching day as Cynthia had her off-your-top medical examination and I covered more than two of her classes. It was a bit hectic, and I also have a small cold that's been annoying. Came yesterday, should be gone tomorrow.
My students were asking me if I planned on going to Thirsty Street tonight, but I said that I think I'll rest my sore throat instead. After class, a very shy young man took his time leaving, and then came up to my desk and said, "Do you want to be 'eeled?" I didn't get it. He repeated, "Do you want to be 'eeled??" OOHH HEALED! Yes, yes I do want to be healed! "You take a hot rum and 'oney, and you drink zis. You'll be 'eeled. You can horder it at Sirsty Street." Thanks. Great advice, great 'eeling advice. 'Eel me, Sirsty Street. But still, even with that perscription, I'll be staying in tonight. I'll get my room all ready to go, and practice my German before my first class tomorrow morning! And Cynthia is trusting me to cut her hair.... We'll see how long this friendship lasts.
An epic trip to Saint-Malo is in the works for Saturday, which includes an afternoon at the beach and a night box until the morning train.. Epic. I love it.
But first, time to get rid of this cold.
With love,
Hincks
Monday, September 22, 2008
Chapter 20: Crazy Train
nerd blog post #21
There was nothing crazy about the train. But 20 points to Ozzy for a hit song. It's before 8am here, and Doctor is safe and sound on the train to Paris. He then switches train stations by metro and takes another train to London. Then tube to Heathrow, then shuttle bus to Warwick University. We were up at 630am and I just got home from seeing him off. I was going to go back to sleep, but I'm not so tired yet, so I'll nerd blog. It's about 2am in Canada. I hope some of you are NGH right now (Beach Slam!?) and that others are snoozing well.
The rest of the visit was great.. We went to Barbie and Kenland on Sunday night for a pint, just the two of us. There, we had an interesting conversation about Canadian liberalism, and whether or not it was colonialist to want to spread it around the world. Ponder as you wander. (This point is not, however, a request for a sub-blog comment war)
To bed early (earlier than previous nights, anyways..), we got up in order to get to campus for my 915 class. I taught for an hour, met Doc for coffee, and then taught another hour. He saw some of my students, met Fabien and the co-head of the department, saw my office and the English department, and worked on some prep for his school while I taught. He also experienced the cute Rennes metro.
After my long day of work was complete, we went to the slum so I could check my mail. I had two interesting letters:
1. One from my grandpa, who is very old.. It's the second letter I've received from him in my life (my grandma was always the b-day card writer) and it was all in French. He doesn't really speak French, but what is impressive and inspirational is that he has the confidence to try, and to use what he has.
2. A big envelope from a dear family friend, with a letter and a newspaper article about Jean Vanier's 80th b-day. Jean Vanier is the founder of L'Arche, and my biggest unmet hero. He has many points. This friend is a German-Canadian who went to Canada for a year over 25 years ago, and is still there.. Her letter was all in German, and it was fun to try and understand it all!
Then we went to Speed Rabbit Pizza, but it was closed.... So we bought frozen stuff and it was delicious. In the afternoon, we had a small nap, and then got up for dinner. Doctor treated Cynthia and I to a most tasty Breton meal. Galettes and crepes. (Galettes are the salty crepes that are eaten as a main course.) I had had one at the market last week, but this was far superior. After dinner we went to O'Connells for a drink. O'Connells is the Irish pub where the bartenders are from the UK. The crowd is a little older, and more international. It's a nice experience to go, but I prefer the more French ones..
I've been in this new pad for six nights now, five of them with Doc. It feels emptier now. The send off was sad. I went down to the platform with him and waited until the train was out of sight. I was there with the officials of the train, and four bfs. I wanted to ask them if they wanted to hang out and talk about goodbyes, but instead came home.
On the first or second night he was here, I had a dream in which I was trying to present the various employment opportunities for him here in Rennes, using a grade 5 style bristol board presentation. I would love it if he could just stay here, but that's selfish. This was a small vacay on his way to his great adventure, and there's no more purpose for him here than there is for me there. Plus, it's comforting to know that the time difference is only one hour, and that we can see each other soon enough. It was soo fun, though. We laughed so hard at many funny things, and I was glad he was able to see my life here.
I don't work today, and will go to the slum motel to clean the room and move the last few things over here. If there's time, Cynthia and I will go to the museum to check it out.
I am going to write a book, entitled Hincks' Helevator Hetiquette. I'll study HH around the world, and then publish the book, so that travelers will know how to properly conduct themselves in an elevator. This is how one behaves in a French one:
1. Enter the elevator.
2. Greet the fellow riders with a "bonjour" or "bonsoir."
3. Face inwards.
4. Ride in silence.
5. Say "au revoir" upon exiting, or when any fellow rider exits.
It's different. A nod is not a greeting. Facing the door is weird. And no small talk plz. I think it will sell like hotcakes.
The only good thing about Doctor's departure is that blog reading will become more interesting as his will not be Rennes related anymore. Fans of my nerd blog and of his online prescription renewal service will now have two train tracks to follow. And I look forward to seeing how things go for him in jolly Britain.
And so, as the city is becoming brighter and the sadness is lifting at the thought of you all tallying your points and excitedly t-bombing one another to announce the publication of the latest nerd blog post, I will have a small snooze before really starting my day.
Love to Canada.
Solo, sad, sleepy, and signing off,
Hincks.
There was nothing crazy about the train. But 20 points to Ozzy for a hit song. It's before 8am here, and Doctor is safe and sound on the train to Paris. He then switches train stations by metro and takes another train to London. Then tube to Heathrow, then shuttle bus to Warwick University. We were up at 630am and I just got home from seeing him off. I was going to go back to sleep, but I'm not so tired yet, so I'll nerd blog. It's about 2am in Canada. I hope some of you are NGH right now (Beach Slam!?) and that others are snoozing well.
The rest of the visit was great.. We went to Barbie and Kenland on Sunday night for a pint, just the two of us. There, we had an interesting conversation about Canadian liberalism, and whether or not it was colonialist to want to spread it around the world. Ponder as you wander. (This point is not, however, a request for a sub-blog comment war)
To bed early (earlier than previous nights, anyways..), we got up in order to get to campus for my 915 class. I taught for an hour, met Doc for coffee, and then taught another hour. He saw some of my students, met Fabien and the co-head of the department, saw my office and the English department, and worked on some prep for his school while I taught. He also experienced the cute Rennes metro.
After my long day of work was complete, we went to the slum so I could check my mail. I had two interesting letters:
1. One from my grandpa, who is very old.. It's the second letter I've received from him in my life (my grandma was always the b-day card writer) and it was all in French. He doesn't really speak French, but what is impressive and inspirational is that he has the confidence to try, and to use what he has.
2. A big envelope from a dear family friend, with a letter and a newspaper article about Jean Vanier's 80th b-day. Jean Vanier is the founder of L'Arche, and my biggest unmet hero. He has many points. This friend is a German-Canadian who went to Canada for a year over 25 years ago, and is still there.. Her letter was all in German, and it was fun to try and understand it all!
Then we went to Speed Rabbit Pizza, but it was closed.... So we bought frozen stuff and it was delicious. In the afternoon, we had a small nap, and then got up for dinner. Doctor treated Cynthia and I to a most tasty Breton meal. Galettes and crepes. (Galettes are the salty crepes that are eaten as a main course.) I had had one at the market last week, but this was far superior. After dinner we went to O'Connells for a drink. O'Connells is the Irish pub where the bartenders are from the UK. The crowd is a little older, and more international. It's a nice experience to go, but I prefer the more French ones..
I've been in this new pad for six nights now, five of them with Doc. It feels emptier now. The send off was sad. I went down to the platform with him and waited until the train was out of sight. I was there with the officials of the train, and four bfs. I wanted to ask them if they wanted to hang out and talk about goodbyes, but instead came home.
On the first or second night he was here, I had a dream in which I was trying to present the various employment opportunities for him here in Rennes, using a grade 5 style bristol board presentation. I would love it if he could just stay here, but that's selfish. This was a small vacay on his way to his great adventure, and there's no more purpose for him here than there is for me there. Plus, it's comforting to know that the time difference is only one hour, and that we can see each other soon enough. It was soo fun, though. We laughed so hard at many funny things, and I was glad he was able to see my life here.
I don't work today, and will go to the slum motel to clean the room and move the last few things over here. If there's time, Cynthia and I will go to the museum to check it out.
I am going to write a book, entitled Hincks' Helevator Hetiquette. I'll study HH around the world, and then publish the book, so that travelers will know how to properly conduct themselves in an elevator. This is how one behaves in a French one:
1. Enter the elevator.
2. Greet the fellow riders with a "bonjour" or "bonsoir."
3. Face inwards.
4. Ride in silence.
5. Say "au revoir" upon exiting, or when any fellow rider exits.
It's different. A nod is not a greeting. Facing the door is weird. And no small talk plz. I think it will sell like hotcakes.
The only good thing about Doctor's departure is that blog reading will become more interesting as his will not be Rennes related anymore. Fans of my nerd blog and of his online prescription renewal service will now have two train tracks to follow. And I look forward to seeing how things go for him in jolly Britain.
And so, as the city is becoming brighter and the sadness is lifting at the thought of you all tallying your points and excitedly t-bombing one another to announce the publication of the latest nerd blog post, I will have a small snooze before really starting my day.
Love to Canada.
Solo, sad, sleepy, and signing off,
Hincks.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Chapter 19: A Blogctor Post
nerd blog post #20
Doctor and I got in a huge fight and he left Rennes early. I don't want to talk about it.
Juuuuust kidding. It has been the best time.. I don't even know where to start really. I guess I'll do what I always do, which is tell of the adventures, one small detail at a time. Buckle your seatbelts, little children.
I think I mentioned in the last post that we were going to take it easy Friday night. Have a glass of wine and then go to a little patio. Cute idea. Didn't happen. Go big or go home is what Nurse Hincks prescribes, and so we did. It ended up being the perfect remedy - an excellent dosage of fun, dancing, awkwardness, and colliding worlds.....
Ahem. Okay, to back-track a bit, the Saturday night where Cynthia and I went to prison night box1000 (two weeks ago), was the night I met P-A. It was also the night Cynthia met a Parisian engineer named Jean-Marie. J-M is tall and handsome, and, as it always goes, has a short and dorky side-kick. I didn't blog about it before, because it was insignificant, but while Cynthia and J-M were busy falling in love on the dance floor, I was playing wingman with S&D. (To 'wingman' is to support your friend by hanging with his/her new lover's s&d side-kick friend. A tedious, but necessary, job.) Anyyyyways, J-M and Cynthia kept in touch, and he and S&D (who was unaware that I was wingmanning, and thought maybe we would be special friends) were back in Rennes Friday night. And now you're caught up.
Having already made plans to get together with P-A, and not wanting to disappoint Cynthia by not wingmanning again, we had to mish-mash the whole gang together. So we went to this place named Kenland (which I think should be called Barbie and Kenland) and the party was as follows: J-M, S&D, P-A, Doctor, Cynthia and I. Pretty awkward combo. We hung there, and then went to a night bar, where we thought the dancing would erase the awkwardness that sitting around and chatting cannot.
Doctor had to play wingman's wingman, as I tried to be nice to both P-A and S&D, while giving Cynthia the time to get to know her potential Prince Charming. The funniest bit was when S&D was trying to convince Doctor that it would be a great idea if we all (excpet P-A) went to the ocean. Doc came up to me after and said something like, "S&D just asked me if I have swimming trunks here.. I think he wants to go to the beach..." Funny.
It was a fun night though, and we ended up dancing until the wee hours, and then enjoyed a Skype chat with my mama upon my return. I told her we were up for the day (4am) and about to go for a run. She told me to go to bed. So we did.
Satur-hooray we slept in a bit and then made our way to the market. Now, Doctor had just been at the Borough Street Market in London, famous for its beauty, so I was a tad worried that he would be let down by the one I love so much. It rules, though, and he liked it. One thing I really like about both Doc and Cynthia is their appreciation of free samples. We tried everything from cheese to bread to cantaloupe. We bought a cantaloupe. It was tasty.
After that, we visited Hosseon, who told us about a giant, traveling flea market that's near the river that's near the slum motel. We wandered over, not sure what to expect. It was incredible. Like a giant garage sale that stretched at least a kilometer on both banks of the river, this was a market unlike anything I have ever seen. There was everything - stupid little toys, very old shoes, bike parts.. Also some crafty jewelry, musical instruments, silly hats, swords, clothes, furniture.. You name it. The salespeeps were like gypsies, jut traveling this market around from town to town. It comes to Rennes once a year. We bought a stool for the kitchen table. There were only two, and we thought there should be three. It was $4.50 and we carried it around for the rest of the day.
Hungry, we went to Hosseon's for lunch. Kebabs and sammys and a good chat with Hosseon, who was very happy to see Doctor again. We came home for a nap (I didn't sleep but the others did) and then showered and got ready for the evening.
First we went to a "pot." It's a Breton term. It's written like the drug or cooking instrument, but pronounced like Po for Police. I love the term because I love cooking. A pot is a small party where the host provides snackies and drinks. If any of the two are missing, or if there are tons of peeps there, it's not a pot. This pot was hosted by Cynthia's now-married ex-roommate and her husband. He teaches at the university in my department and is writing his PhD in English. He spent years in Birmingham and loves England, and was excited that Doc is on his way there to study. The other lecteurs were invited, too. We sipped wine, ate goodies, and chatted.
Doc and I left first to come back here and call our mothers because it was Saturday night at 11pm, and that's what you do. All of a sudden it was 130am so we went to bed.
Juuuust kidding. We left to go to a Night Box named Batchi. Very different than the prison Night Box, we had to ring a doorbell to get in, and if we didn't know it was there, we would have missed it altogether. On a small and quiet street, Batchi was just a blue door with a small sign. There, we (Cynthia, Doctor and I) had a wonderful time dancing. We requested hit songs that we love and that remind us of our pals back home. We also met a man with a silly mustache, named Mustache Man, who was super nice and pumped we were Canadian, and wanted to buy us all a beer. Thanks, Mustache Man! The crowd was very nice, slightly older, and being that there were almost no chairs to sit in, dancing was basically obligatory. I will return to that land for sure.
Doctor and I had plans to go to Paris for the day today, but were open to being flexible. As Loanne said, "Paris will always be there," and it's a good meeting spot city and all that jazz. So we set our alarm very early to get up and go, buuuut then we accidentally slept through it. Oopsies.. I guess our bodies weren't satisfied with a two and a half hour nap that night? Weird. Happy in each other's company no matter what the plans, we had a relaxing morning here, writing e-mails, sipping cafe, catching up.. Cynthia went to Saint-Malo with J-M and S&D today, so Doc and I have enjoyed talking all about home, and making plans for the year. We both have a week off this semester, two next, and Christmas break. It's nice that we'll see more of each other.
During breakie, he asked me about museums here. They're closed on Sundays, like everything else. But strolling into town for a coffee, we saw a long line up. We learned that today is a special day in France and so is the Rennes equivalent of Doors Open Toronto. What luck! We waited in a short line and then had an excellent guided tour of the Opera House. It was great. I want to write all about it, but that might be bah-ring... I will say, though, that it was super interesting to see such an historical theatre, and to learn all about it. It was awesome that we stumbled upon it.
So next we sat on a patio where the sun was shining and the Cola was diet. We discussed trips. It's interesting how we would dream about them on our balcony at Isabella, getting so excited.. We'd wonder where the planes overhead were flying to and talk about what it would be like to hang out together in Europe... And now we're here. Sitting outside, watching lovers pass, seeing small cars, children who dress like adults, baguettes a-plenty.. So different than what we could have imagined those months ago.. And now, the excitement of planning trips together is different because it's not really imagining anymore, it's real planning with real obstacles and actual dates.. Crazypants.
We came back here and are now on the bed, blogging away. I will miss him when he goes. It feels as though he's been here for weeks, and he fits in so well with my life here. It will be very sad to say goodbye. I wish he could stay. He also got along so well with P-A, and likes him very much. And he and Cynthia, who are probably more similar than I am with either of them, have hit it off like brother and sister. I haven't worried about awkwardness for a second, and it's been so nice being a little trio. I can tell already that she's a lifelong friend, and it's nice to have someone as important as my Doctor see how wonderful and fun she is.
Tonight we are actually going to take it easy.. Go for a nice dinner and then come back here. I have to teach in the morning, and Doc has some pre-school business to take care of. Plus, Night Boxes and Night Bars are only open Thursdays through Saturdays, which leaves no room for temptation. Which is good.
I am a very happy camper right now. Though it would be perfect if everyone I love could be here, Doctor always writes the perfect prescription, and it has been an amazing few days..
Love to Canada, from both of us.
Signing off,
Hincks.
Doctor and I got in a huge fight and he left Rennes early. I don't want to talk about it.
Juuuuust kidding. It has been the best time.. I don't even know where to start really. I guess I'll do what I always do, which is tell of the adventures, one small detail at a time. Buckle your seatbelts, little children.
I think I mentioned in the last post that we were going to take it easy Friday night. Have a glass of wine and then go to a little patio. Cute idea. Didn't happen. Go big or go home is what Nurse Hincks prescribes, and so we did. It ended up being the perfect remedy - an excellent dosage of fun, dancing, awkwardness, and colliding worlds.....
Ahem. Okay, to back-track a bit, the Saturday night where Cynthia and I went to prison night box1000 (two weeks ago), was the night I met P-A. It was also the night Cynthia met a Parisian engineer named Jean-Marie. J-M is tall and handsome, and, as it always goes, has a short and dorky side-kick. I didn't blog about it before, because it was insignificant, but while Cynthia and J-M were busy falling in love on the dance floor, I was playing wingman with S&D. (To 'wingman' is to support your friend by hanging with his/her new lover's s&d side-kick friend. A tedious, but necessary, job.) Anyyyyways, J-M and Cynthia kept in touch, and he and S&D (who was unaware that I was wingmanning, and thought maybe we would be special friends) were back in Rennes Friday night. And now you're caught up.
Having already made plans to get together with P-A, and not wanting to disappoint Cynthia by not wingmanning again, we had to mish-mash the whole gang together. So we went to this place named Kenland (which I think should be called Barbie and Kenland) and the party was as follows: J-M, S&D, P-A, Doctor, Cynthia and I. Pretty awkward combo. We hung there, and then went to a night bar, where we thought the dancing would erase the awkwardness that sitting around and chatting cannot.
Doctor had to play wingman's wingman, as I tried to be nice to both P-A and S&D, while giving Cynthia the time to get to know her potential Prince Charming. The funniest bit was when S&D was trying to convince Doctor that it would be a great idea if we all (excpet P-A) went to the ocean. Doc came up to me after and said something like, "S&D just asked me if I have swimming trunks here.. I think he wants to go to the beach..." Funny.
It was a fun night though, and we ended up dancing until the wee hours, and then enjoyed a Skype chat with my mama upon my return. I told her we were up for the day (4am) and about to go for a run. She told me to go to bed. So we did.
Satur-hooray we slept in a bit and then made our way to the market. Now, Doctor had just been at the Borough Street Market in London, famous for its beauty, so I was a tad worried that he would be let down by the one I love so much. It rules, though, and he liked it. One thing I really like about both Doc and Cynthia is their appreciation of free samples. We tried everything from cheese to bread to cantaloupe. We bought a cantaloupe. It was tasty.
After that, we visited Hosseon, who told us about a giant, traveling flea market that's near the river that's near the slum motel. We wandered over, not sure what to expect. It was incredible. Like a giant garage sale that stretched at least a kilometer on both banks of the river, this was a market unlike anything I have ever seen. There was everything - stupid little toys, very old shoes, bike parts.. Also some crafty jewelry, musical instruments, silly hats, swords, clothes, furniture.. You name it. The salespeeps were like gypsies, jut traveling this market around from town to town. It comes to Rennes once a year. We bought a stool for the kitchen table. There were only two, and we thought there should be three. It was $4.50 and we carried it around for the rest of the day.
Hungry, we went to Hosseon's for lunch. Kebabs and sammys and a good chat with Hosseon, who was very happy to see Doctor again. We came home for a nap (I didn't sleep but the others did) and then showered and got ready for the evening.
First we went to a "pot." It's a Breton term. It's written like the drug or cooking instrument, but pronounced like Po for Police. I love the term because I love cooking. A pot is a small party where the host provides snackies and drinks. If any of the two are missing, or if there are tons of peeps there, it's not a pot. This pot was hosted by Cynthia's now-married ex-roommate and her husband. He teaches at the university in my department and is writing his PhD in English. He spent years in Birmingham and loves England, and was excited that Doc is on his way there to study. The other lecteurs were invited, too. We sipped wine, ate goodies, and chatted.
Doc and I left first to come back here and call our mothers because it was Saturday night at 11pm, and that's what you do. All of a sudden it was 130am so we went to bed.
Juuuust kidding. We left to go to a Night Box named Batchi. Very different than the prison Night Box, we had to ring a doorbell to get in, and if we didn't know it was there, we would have missed it altogether. On a small and quiet street, Batchi was just a blue door with a small sign. There, we (Cynthia, Doctor and I) had a wonderful time dancing. We requested hit songs that we love and that remind us of our pals back home. We also met a man with a silly mustache, named Mustache Man, who was super nice and pumped we were Canadian, and wanted to buy us all a beer. Thanks, Mustache Man! The crowd was very nice, slightly older, and being that there were almost no chairs to sit in, dancing was basically obligatory. I will return to that land for sure.
Doctor and I had plans to go to Paris for the day today, but were open to being flexible. As Loanne said, "Paris will always be there," and it's a good meeting spot city and all that jazz. So we set our alarm very early to get up and go, buuuut then we accidentally slept through it. Oopsies.. I guess our bodies weren't satisfied with a two and a half hour nap that night? Weird. Happy in each other's company no matter what the plans, we had a relaxing morning here, writing e-mails, sipping cafe, catching up.. Cynthia went to Saint-Malo with J-M and S&D today, so Doc and I have enjoyed talking all about home, and making plans for the year. We both have a week off this semester, two next, and Christmas break. It's nice that we'll see more of each other.
During breakie, he asked me about museums here. They're closed on Sundays, like everything else. But strolling into town for a coffee, we saw a long line up. We learned that today is a special day in France and so is the Rennes equivalent of Doors Open Toronto. What luck! We waited in a short line and then had an excellent guided tour of the Opera House. It was great. I want to write all about it, but that might be bah-ring... I will say, though, that it was super interesting to see such an historical theatre, and to learn all about it. It was awesome that we stumbled upon it.
So next we sat on a patio where the sun was shining and the Cola was diet. We discussed trips. It's interesting how we would dream about them on our balcony at Isabella, getting so excited.. We'd wonder where the planes overhead were flying to and talk about what it would be like to hang out together in Europe... And now we're here. Sitting outside, watching lovers pass, seeing small cars, children who dress like adults, baguettes a-plenty.. So different than what we could have imagined those months ago.. And now, the excitement of planning trips together is different because it's not really imagining anymore, it's real planning with real obstacles and actual dates.. Crazypants.
We came back here and are now on the bed, blogging away. I will miss him when he goes. It feels as though he's been here for weeks, and he fits in so well with my life here. It will be very sad to say goodbye. I wish he could stay. He also got along so well with P-A, and likes him very much. And he and Cynthia, who are probably more similar than I am with either of them, have hit it off like brother and sister. I haven't worried about awkwardness for a second, and it's been so nice being a little trio. I can tell already that she's a lifelong friend, and it's nice to have someone as important as my Doctor see how wonderful and fun she is.
Tonight we are actually going to take it easy.. Go for a nice dinner and then come back here. I have to teach in the morning, and Doc has some pre-school business to take care of. Plus, Night Boxes and Night Bars are only open Thursdays through Saturdays, which leaves no room for temptation. Which is good.
I am a very happy camper right now. Though it would be perfect if everyone I love could be here, Doctor always writes the perfect prescription, and it has been an amazing few days..
Love to Canada, from both of us.
Signing off,
Hincks.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Chapter 18: Filling my Prescription
nerd blog post #19
As you can well imagine, the hours and minutes leading up to Doctor's arrival were painfully long. I feel sorry for Cynthia, who had to listen to countless stories and squeals of excitement. I also had to go to the bathroom every few seconds like a five year old girl.
For those of you who don't know, the Doctor is my roommate from last year and did the MA program with me at UofT. He is also my partner in every crime, my lifelong dear friend, and an incredibly loyal, stoic and intelligent man. I could rave about him forever. Doc is doing another MA (this one in International Performance Research) at the University of Warwick and the University of Amsterdam - the schools welcomed 32 students internationally into its Erasmus program. He landed in London on Wednesday, and after a night there, headed straight to Rennes!
After teaching my final course of the day, I headed to that party for English students. A bunch of mine went and we ate snackies and chatted. I somehow got roped into leading an hour a week of Drama with the New English Student Society (NESS), which is an on-campus club that promotes speaking English and ... other English things I guess. One of those super dorky clubs. So one evening a week I'll be doing that, with the final product being some kind of play. I assumed that, being NESS, this commitment would be in English, but found out that actually I am to lead it all in French! Crazypants. They better be into games, tricks and pranks. That's what I'm into.
Anyways, Cynthia and I got some wine and snackies for latron, after Doc's arrival. And then, finally, I left to go meet him at the train station. Seeing him come up the escalator was incredible. It makes me wonder how it will be seeing people after months and months... My heart was racing and I couldn't control my laughing.. It was amazing to see him. We really lived side by side this year. We knew every detail of the other's schedule, we spent countless evenings on the balcony playing games, sipping Cola... So it was a reunion of great magnitude, for me anyways..
I was going to save this for the end, but I want to let you all know that if you're interested in Doc's adventure, you should check out his new blog at doctorwithoutborders.blogspot.com. He is an excellent writer and will be up to many exciting things, no doubt. If you read his instead of mine, you will immediately lose 200 points. If you read them both, your points will double. He is currently sitting at the other end of my bed, blogging away as well.. It will be interesting (for all of us?) to read how different our accounts will be. He is definitely a little more ... serious than me, and perhaps more level-headed. My way of telling stories is not exaggerated, but just as I see the world, which is perhaps slightly bigger and more adventuresome than others.. Or maybe I exaggerate. You choose. But I'm Curious George to see how he describes this visit..
Okay, so as soon as we exit the train station, I pop a bottle of Breton cider to welcome him to the land. No parents. No po. No one to stop us from taking over the town. Really what we did, though, was sip the 5% bottle of apple juice and walk back to the apartment.. We then had more wine with Cynthia and Merrill (another lecteur) and ate the feast of baguette, three types of delicious cheese, olive oil and spice dip, sausages, and chippies.
Around midnight we headed out to Thirsty Street. It was wonderful to observe Doc taking it all in for the first time, as I had done two and a half weeks ago. Thirsty Street was more than bustling. The best analogy I can give is, again, Aberdeen St on Homecoming Saturday. Absolutely bonkers. He met Hossoen, saw the chaos, and we enjoyed a beer that they gave to us in a roadie cup. The bars start to close down around 1am, so we headed to a night bar where we danced up a storm. Most of the bars and clubs in the downtown date back hundreds of years (the building, not the bar itself..) and the night bar has old beams across the ceiling, a cavernous basement and stone walls. Very cool. It was super packed. I don't think they have "capacity" here...
While there, I saw one of my students. Now, at school I dress professionally. Button-up shirts, long skirts, fancy shoes. Or whatever. At the night bar I had gotten so warm that I had taken off my pants and so was just wearing a short dress, make-up, high heels.. I looked different. The student (who just turned 18, making him a definite Freen) recognized me anyways and was excited to introduce me to his friends.... "Zis my teacher! HEMILIE HINCKS!" I've noticed that when French peeps say my full name, if they don't say Emilie Ank, which is the norm, they make an overwhelmingly large effort and say Hemilie Hincks. It's funny. Anyways, that was a highlight for sure.. He was great entertainment and wanted to talk to Doctor about basketball a lot. He practiced his English for sure. A+, you cute little Freen.
This morning I slept in, but Doc slept later. I was far too happy he was here, and tried every trick to wake him up.. (Flushing the toilet with door open, putting about in the bedroom for no reason, opening things...) It was like a kid trying to wake up the parentals on Christmas morning so presies could start. Anyways, eventually he got up and we had cafe au lait and breakie, and eventually headed out to see the city.
We walked around a lot, up and down streets, visited Hossoen and Pascal, saw the river, and then went to the slum motel. There, we sat around, and then got into the refrigerator. And took pictures of it. All in a day's adventure.
We ventured back into town to go to a cafe and sit outside. It was a beautiful day, and quite warm. We then bumped into Pierre-Antoine and he joined us for a coffee. Now, P-A speaks no English. He can say, "It's a beautiful girl" and "I 'ave big dog," but that's really it. I taught him a couple of words, and it was hilarious to see him meet Doctor, shake his hand, and say, "'Andsome man!" Doctor seemed slightly taken aback by this immediate compliment. But returned it.. Later, Cynthia came, and then P-A's friend, Sheshi, who I've met before. Talk about world's colliding! I couldn't believe that I was sitting around with Doctor, who has known me for five years and who I've lived with.. Then Cynthia, a very good friend, a current roommate, and so new. And then P-A, a Frenchman, and his Indian buddy. It was too strange. I found that speaking both French and English, and translating between the two, was a lot of fun, but more tiring than either one or the other. I like that stuff though. It makes my brain work quickly and, loving languages, it was like a puzzle. And Sudoku is not for me. I had a great time there, out in the sun for a couple of hours, sipping coffee and taking it all in. And playing Lost in Translation. A great game.
On the way home, we stopped at the grocery store and got stuff for dins. We made gourmet grilled sammys. Shrimp, tuna, avocado, tomato and cheese on baguette. Grilled. It was good. Now, full and happy, we're blogging on the bed.
I can't really explain my happiness having a visitor here. I can finally talk more like myself, using made up words, or no words at all, and being understood. He also brings news from Canada, and restores confidence to many friendships. It makes this year seem much more doable. And as I told Doc today, I could blog about anything. I could make things up, stretch the truth, and invent characters to make things sound interesting or funny. But today, walking around, I could tell him that there was where those three youths fell to their death. And this is the kebab stand. And that's where I walk forever. And this is why I hated the slum.. And it validates my blog a little bit, I think, to have someone see that it's all real, and that I am happy, and that Rennes is a beautiful city..... Plus, 'e's 'andsome.
Tonight we will take it a little easier, I think. We'll have some wine here and chat about home, and then venture out to a little bar and sit outside and people watch. There's an Irish pub that we might go to where the bartenders are bilingual and it's a bit of an older crowd. There's another one that's a bookstore and bar in one, and very cute. Neither are on Thirsty Street, which is kind of busy every night. Tomorrow is Marche Day! Satur-hooray.
I know this is crazy, but I worry that we won't have enough time to talk about everything! I have so many more things I want to tell him and he's only here until Tuesday!! Toooooo short! I would also like for him to taste every delicious food, walk down every beautiful street, and meet all the nice peeps in this land. And that feeling I got while in Kingston this past year, or when the Westview boys were in TO, has already set in. The feeling that I don't want any more time to pass, because the more time passes, the closer the end comes. And then it does, and I'm so blue... Man. Leaving Kingston after visits this past year was always very hard. I can't think about that now, though. He's just sitting there typing away with a furrowed brow. I think someone should make a statue of him. Such a hero!
I'll stop now. More tomorrow. Much love to Canada, from both of us.
A purring Hincks.
As you can well imagine, the hours and minutes leading up to Doctor's arrival were painfully long. I feel sorry for Cynthia, who had to listen to countless stories and squeals of excitement. I also had to go to the bathroom every few seconds like a five year old girl.
For those of you who don't know, the Doctor is my roommate from last year and did the MA program with me at UofT. He is also my partner in every crime, my lifelong dear friend, and an incredibly loyal, stoic and intelligent man. I could rave about him forever. Doc is doing another MA (this one in International Performance Research) at the University of Warwick and the University of Amsterdam - the schools welcomed 32 students internationally into its Erasmus program. He landed in London on Wednesday, and after a night there, headed straight to Rennes!
After teaching my final course of the day, I headed to that party for English students. A bunch of mine went and we ate snackies and chatted. I somehow got roped into leading an hour a week of Drama with the New English Student Society (NESS), which is an on-campus club that promotes speaking English and ... other English things I guess. One of those super dorky clubs. So one evening a week I'll be doing that, with the final product being some kind of play. I assumed that, being NESS, this commitment would be in English, but found out that actually I am to lead it all in French! Crazypants. They better be into games, tricks and pranks. That's what I'm into.
Anyways, Cynthia and I got some wine and snackies for latron, after Doc's arrival. And then, finally, I left to go meet him at the train station. Seeing him come up the escalator was incredible. It makes me wonder how it will be seeing people after months and months... My heart was racing and I couldn't control my laughing.. It was amazing to see him. We really lived side by side this year. We knew every detail of the other's schedule, we spent countless evenings on the balcony playing games, sipping Cola... So it was a reunion of great magnitude, for me anyways..
I was going to save this for the end, but I want to let you all know that if you're interested in Doc's adventure, you should check out his new blog at doctorwithoutborders.blogspot.com. He is an excellent writer and will be up to many exciting things, no doubt. If you read his instead of mine, you will immediately lose 200 points. If you read them both, your points will double. He is currently sitting at the other end of my bed, blogging away as well.. It will be interesting (for all of us?) to read how different our accounts will be. He is definitely a little more ... serious than me, and perhaps more level-headed. My way of telling stories is not exaggerated, but just as I see the world, which is perhaps slightly bigger and more adventuresome than others.. Or maybe I exaggerate. You choose. But I'm Curious George to see how he describes this visit..
Okay, so as soon as we exit the train station, I pop a bottle of Breton cider to welcome him to the land. No parents. No po. No one to stop us from taking over the town. Really what we did, though, was sip the 5% bottle of apple juice and walk back to the apartment.. We then had more wine with Cynthia and Merrill (another lecteur) and ate the feast of baguette, three types of delicious cheese, olive oil and spice dip, sausages, and chippies.
Around midnight we headed out to Thirsty Street. It was wonderful to observe Doc taking it all in for the first time, as I had done two and a half weeks ago. Thirsty Street was more than bustling. The best analogy I can give is, again, Aberdeen St on Homecoming Saturday. Absolutely bonkers. He met Hossoen, saw the chaos, and we enjoyed a beer that they gave to us in a roadie cup. The bars start to close down around 1am, so we headed to a night bar where we danced up a storm. Most of the bars and clubs in the downtown date back hundreds of years (the building, not the bar itself..) and the night bar has old beams across the ceiling, a cavernous basement and stone walls. Very cool. It was super packed. I don't think they have "capacity" here...
While there, I saw one of my students. Now, at school I dress professionally. Button-up shirts, long skirts, fancy shoes. Or whatever. At the night bar I had gotten so warm that I had taken off my pants and so was just wearing a short dress, make-up, high heels.. I looked different. The student (who just turned 18, making him a definite Freen) recognized me anyways and was excited to introduce me to his friends.... "Zis my teacher! HEMILIE HINCKS!" I've noticed that when French peeps say my full name, if they don't say Emilie Ank, which is the norm, they make an overwhelmingly large effort and say Hemilie Hincks. It's funny. Anyways, that was a highlight for sure.. He was great entertainment and wanted to talk to Doctor about basketball a lot. He practiced his English for sure. A+, you cute little Freen.
This morning I slept in, but Doc slept later. I was far too happy he was here, and tried every trick to wake him up.. (Flushing the toilet with door open, putting about in the bedroom for no reason, opening things...) It was like a kid trying to wake up the parentals on Christmas morning so presies could start. Anyways, eventually he got up and we had cafe au lait and breakie, and eventually headed out to see the city.
We walked around a lot, up and down streets, visited Hossoen and Pascal, saw the river, and then went to the slum motel. There, we sat around, and then got into the refrigerator. And took pictures of it. All in a day's adventure.
We ventured back into town to go to a cafe and sit outside. It was a beautiful day, and quite warm. We then bumped into Pierre-Antoine and he joined us for a coffee. Now, P-A speaks no English. He can say, "It's a beautiful girl" and "I 'ave big dog," but that's really it. I taught him a couple of words, and it was hilarious to see him meet Doctor, shake his hand, and say, "'Andsome man!" Doctor seemed slightly taken aback by this immediate compliment. But returned it.. Later, Cynthia came, and then P-A's friend, Sheshi, who I've met before. Talk about world's colliding! I couldn't believe that I was sitting around with Doctor, who has known me for five years and who I've lived with.. Then Cynthia, a very good friend, a current roommate, and so new. And then P-A, a Frenchman, and his Indian buddy. It was too strange. I found that speaking both French and English, and translating between the two, was a lot of fun, but more tiring than either one or the other. I like that stuff though. It makes my brain work quickly and, loving languages, it was like a puzzle. And Sudoku is not for me. I had a great time there, out in the sun for a couple of hours, sipping coffee and taking it all in. And playing Lost in Translation. A great game.
On the way home, we stopped at the grocery store and got stuff for dins. We made gourmet grilled sammys. Shrimp, tuna, avocado, tomato and cheese on baguette. Grilled. It was good. Now, full and happy, we're blogging on the bed.
I can't really explain my happiness having a visitor here. I can finally talk more like myself, using made up words, or no words at all, and being understood. He also brings news from Canada, and restores confidence to many friendships. It makes this year seem much more doable. And as I told Doc today, I could blog about anything. I could make things up, stretch the truth, and invent characters to make things sound interesting or funny. But today, walking around, I could tell him that there was where those three youths fell to their death. And this is the kebab stand. And that's where I walk forever. And this is why I hated the slum.. And it validates my blog a little bit, I think, to have someone see that it's all real, and that I am happy, and that Rennes is a beautiful city..... Plus, 'e's 'andsome.
Tonight we will take it a little easier, I think. We'll have some wine here and chat about home, and then venture out to a little bar and sit outside and people watch. There's an Irish pub that we might go to where the bartenders are bilingual and it's a bit of an older crowd. There's another one that's a bookstore and bar in one, and very cute. Neither are on Thirsty Street, which is kind of busy every night. Tomorrow is Marche Day! Satur-hooray.
I know this is crazy, but I worry that we won't have enough time to talk about everything! I have so many more things I want to tell him and he's only here until Tuesday!! Toooooo short! I would also like for him to taste every delicious food, walk down every beautiful street, and meet all the nice peeps in this land. And that feeling I got while in Kingston this past year, or when the Westview boys were in TO, has already set in. The feeling that I don't want any more time to pass, because the more time passes, the closer the end comes. And then it does, and I'm so blue... Man. Leaving Kingston after visits this past year was always very hard. I can't think about that now, though. He's just sitting there typing away with a furrowed brow. I think someone should make a statue of him. Such a hero!
I'll stop now. More tomorrow. Much love to Canada, from both of us.
A purring Hincks.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Chapter 17: Chile Con Carne
nerd blog post # 18
Guten morgen. (Just practicing..)
This will be a shorty, as bews is little. Last night Cynthia helped me move some of my stuff to her place. Married roomie is moving out slowly, but it was unreal to sleep there last night. I slept diagonally in my double bed, curtains open, windows wide.. Just how I like it. It was quiet and safe, and I was very happy. I also have internet there, and it was great to talk to my mama via Skype and to Murphy via g-chat. I would like to chat with all of you via any method, so get on the Skpye train, and ride with me. Choo choo.
This morning, I enjoyed a shower more than I have in a long time. I have a favourite shower in the world, but it's in Canada, and it wasn't that good, but nothing can be. 8 points if you know where the best shower in the world is located.
I taught two pronunciation classes this morning, and had mad technical difficulties in the lab. We ended up having to do them orally, which is kind of more fun for me anyways. I like reading aloud. I'm immature, though, and couldn't keep a straight face during the phrase, "Pornography is pornagraphic." Oopsies. Also, at the beginning of each class, I ask the students to go around and say their name, where they're from, why they're studying English, and one fun fact. I love fun facts. Today, a student told the class that she's studying English because she wants to be a mistress. Bilingual mistresses receive more perks, I suppose.... They also engage in whatever game I want them to, which is one of the best parts of this job. Sometimes friends and family don't really dig my invented games, but when your mark is relying on it, you'll play anything! It's great.
This afternoon I have another class, and then there's a party for all English students and profs. I am hoping for free treats and wine. Then I'll do some grocery shopping for Doc's arrival. I think he'll be really pumped about the food here. He loooooves pastries, and there are lot's. Then dins with P-A. And then ... finally ... my friend arrives! I am very excited.
I would like to comment on how different it feels not being a student, but being at university.. This is the first year since age three or so that I haven't gone back to school in the normal way. What's strange, though, is that I still have the September feeling - the feeling of an abundance of energy, excitement, and the desire to make new friends that I have felt every September for as long as I can remember. I don't know if it's a feeling that's ingrained in me (like how animals and some peeps get frisky in the Spring) or if it's that I'm at a university where others are feeling that way. Or maybe a combination.
It's harder, though, because no one is really looking to make friends with me, or share in my excitement of back to school. I see students in my classes that look like my genre, and I want to make plans to hang with them. But I can't really.. And I see groups eating in the caf and want to go and sit with them, but I feel as though it's not quite the same. There are the professors, though, all of whom are very nice, but they seem keen to teach and then go home.. So no luck there. I look forward to starting sports and classes next week and then, perhaps, I'll find a group of Frenchies who want to sip cafe and go to Thirsty Street and have wild jams.
I will say, though, that it's an absolute pleasure watching others feel as I did for so many years. I long to join in, but also appreciate that I had my turn to feel that way, and loved it every Fall. I think mostly about Queen's, and how exciting it was to have new roommates, to see friends again after a long summer, and to get into a rhythm of being very busy and happy. Watching them makes me think more seriously about teaching.
The hardest part of my job is to refrain from daydreaming about the Freens (French teens) in my classes. They are SO cute and keen and have horrific accents. I love it.
Already I'm starting to think about next Fall. What I'll do, where I'll be, and how I'd answer if I'm asked to stay.. It's so far away, but if I want to apply for anything, it will start soon. So it's at the back of my mind.
Another hard part is dressing like a teacher. I don't have a lot of stuff here, and am already finding it hard to pick outfits that are appropes. And so, for 34 points, I would like to ask my fashionable friends: In a 12 week span, how many times can I recycle an outfit?
And finally, as my big brother Adam has so kindly advertised this nerd blog on his nerd blog, I will direct you to it in case you want previdence (proof and evidence) of the switcheroo that happened at my birth. If you dig science, it's very interesting. If you dig him, I'll pass along his digits.
http://www.princeton.edu/~ahincks/chile5.html
With love,
Hincks
Guten morgen. (Just practicing..)
This will be a shorty, as bews is little. Last night Cynthia helped me move some of my stuff to her place. Married roomie is moving out slowly, but it was unreal to sleep there last night. I slept diagonally in my double bed, curtains open, windows wide.. Just how I like it. It was quiet and safe, and I was very happy. I also have internet there, and it was great to talk to my mama via Skype and to Murphy via g-chat. I would like to chat with all of you via any method, so get on the Skpye train, and ride with me. Choo choo.
This morning, I enjoyed a shower more than I have in a long time. I have a favourite shower in the world, but it's in Canada, and it wasn't that good, but nothing can be. 8 points if you know where the best shower in the world is located.
I taught two pronunciation classes this morning, and had mad technical difficulties in the lab. We ended up having to do them orally, which is kind of more fun for me anyways. I like reading aloud. I'm immature, though, and couldn't keep a straight face during the phrase, "Pornography is pornagraphic." Oopsies. Also, at the beginning of each class, I ask the students to go around and say their name, where they're from, why they're studying English, and one fun fact. I love fun facts. Today, a student told the class that she's studying English because she wants to be a mistress. Bilingual mistresses receive more perks, I suppose.... They also engage in whatever game I want them to, which is one of the best parts of this job. Sometimes friends and family don't really dig my invented games, but when your mark is relying on it, you'll play anything! It's great.
This afternoon I have another class, and then there's a party for all English students and profs. I am hoping for free treats and wine. Then I'll do some grocery shopping for Doc's arrival. I think he'll be really pumped about the food here. He loooooves pastries, and there are lot's. Then dins with P-A. And then ... finally ... my friend arrives! I am very excited.
I would like to comment on how different it feels not being a student, but being at university.. This is the first year since age three or so that I haven't gone back to school in the normal way. What's strange, though, is that I still have the September feeling - the feeling of an abundance of energy, excitement, and the desire to make new friends that I have felt every September for as long as I can remember. I don't know if it's a feeling that's ingrained in me (like how animals and some peeps get frisky in the Spring) or if it's that I'm at a university where others are feeling that way. Or maybe a combination.
It's harder, though, because no one is really looking to make friends with me, or share in my excitement of back to school. I see students in my classes that look like my genre, and I want to make plans to hang with them. But I can't really.. And I see groups eating in the caf and want to go and sit with them, but I feel as though it's not quite the same. There are the professors, though, all of whom are very nice, but they seem keen to teach and then go home.. So no luck there. I look forward to starting sports and classes next week and then, perhaps, I'll find a group of Frenchies who want to sip cafe and go to Thirsty Street and have wild jams.
I will say, though, that it's an absolute pleasure watching others feel as I did for so many years. I long to join in, but also appreciate that I had my turn to feel that way, and loved it every Fall. I think mostly about Queen's, and how exciting it was to have new roommates, to see friends again after a long summer, and to get into a rhythm of being very busy and happy. Watching them makes me think more seriously about teaching.
The hardest part of my job is to refrain from daydreaming about the Freens (French teens) in my classes. They are SO cute and keen and have horrific accents. I love it.
Already I'm starting to think about next Fall. What I'll do, where I'll be, and how I'd answer if I'm asked to stay.. It's so far away, but if I want to apply for anything, it will start soon. So it's at the back of my mind.
Another hard part is dressing like a teacher. I don't have a lot of stuff here, and am already finding it hard to pick outfits that are appropes. And so, for 34 points, I would like to ask my fashionable friends: In a 12 week span, how many times can I recycle an outfit?
And finally, as my big brother Adam has so kindly advertised this nerd blog on his nerd blog, I will direct you to it in case you want previdence (proof and evidence) of the switcheroo that happened at my birth. If you dig science, it's very interesting. If you dig him, I'll pass along his digits.
http://www.princeton.edu/~ahincks/chile5.html
With love,
Hincks
Chapter 16: Sammys and 'Pagne
nerd blog post #17
Yesterday morning I got up early to go to La Prefecture. I normally translate everything into English, but I have no idea what it really means.. It's the land where I was to get my work visa extended past three months. Most of you don't know this, but the French consulate in Toronto made me jump through a thousand hell-fire hoops to get my work visa there, only to give it to me for three months.. The rest of the hoops were to be jumped through here.. The examinations the day before were part of it. In order to minimize waiting time, as I thought it might be busy there, I arrived at 845am, fifteen minutes before opening. I thought I would wait outside for fifteen, and then rush right through, getting out by 920 or so. Wrong. Before the large gates stood more than sixty people, and by the time they opened, the line had tripled behind me. All of a sudden, the stampede started. People from the back ran to the front, pushing women and children aside to try and get in first. Now, I am all for orderly lines and fairness, but I also refuse to end up last when I was in the first quarter of the giant line. So I dropped some bows, joined in the stampede, had a small argument with a rude man, and got in around where I should have anyways. I took my number and sat down. ... FOREVER. I didn't get out of there until after 11am. The lady asked me a hundred (mostly obscure) questions, looked at pages and pages of documents and their photocopies, and gave me a work visa that expires at the end of December. Awesome. Can't wait to do it all again.
Later, when I took the visa to my boss, she told me that they would likely call me back for an appointment, at which time they would issue me a work visa for the duration of my contract.. That would be good.
I spent the afternoon on campus, wanting to accomplish three things:
1. logging onto the wifi network
2. signing up for courses
3. joining sports teams
I was successful in the following ways:
1. The wifi worked out better than I imagined in the end, because I found a new techie friend! Little brother Ian has always been my saving grace, and has even given me transatlantic advice when things go wrong. There has also often been *insert bf here* who has been able to help. But this time, I needed a proxy address to be able to tap in, and I didn't know what it was or how to get it.
Enter Jean-Francois, a techie in love with Linux, Ubuntu, and my little lappy. He was delighted to help me out and explain how it all works. He said I could go back with any problems I run in to. Thanks, J-F!
2. One of the co-directors of the program was talking to me about writing a second Master's while I'm here. I study free of charge here, and since I already have one, I would be able to bypass year 1 and just do the 2nd year. I could take the courses during the year and write the dissertation in the summer. But I reallllyy wanted to take German. I thought about it for awhile, and decided that learning another language is more important to me right now than getting a random Master's degree just because I can. Maybe that's silly, but it's what I want right now. So I signed up for German class which is four hours a week and I'll start next Monday. The students I'll be with will have had a few years of German already, but I'd rather be at the bottom of the class and learn more, than take something like English and be bored. Obviously.
3. Cynthia and I checked out the intermural sports at the university and chose some we'd like to do. She doesn't like ball sports, so she's doing track and swimming. I'm doing volleyball a couple of times a week. Together, we want to check out if handball is that same great activity we played in elementary school against the school wall. And we're taking a dance class together entitled LindyHop. I don't know how to LindyHop, but will show you all upon my return. I also think it also sounds like DirtyPop, a hit NSync song from the 90s. And I love the 90s.
After that, we saw a poster that advertises free salsa lessons downtown, so we went to try and find the place. Unsuccessful, we ended up just walking around, down streets we hadn't yet seen. All of a sudden, we got to The Red Bean, a cafe that specializes in hot chocolate, and one many people have been talking about. Beside it, there was a crowd of people standing around and sipping champagne. We ventured over to see what the party was. Turns out, they were opening up a new Subway and giving out free sandwiches (any kind!) and champagne! God Bless America. We ate a delicious sammy and sipped champagne like rockstars for a long time. The Subway lady filled up our glasses until we were so full of the bubbly-bubbly that we left.
This morning I taught two classes. One was like the Monday one, except that instead of switching off with a professor, I'll switch off with another lecteur after the six weeks. It was a large class of all young French women. They were pretty shy but seem like nice students. I felt more confident than I did on Monday (since it was my first) and I think it went really well.
The other is a second year phonetics/pronunciation class. They're in a lab and sit in booths and there's a tape that plays and they practice. It's very structured. I sit at the front of the class and wear a headset like a pilate or a McDonalds drive-through worker and can individually listen in and correct them. At the end of the term, they record their final exam, and their mark is decided based on their weekly work, and their exam. This was a small class with less than ten students. A couple were nineteen, and the rest around or above my age. Mostly guys. Having worked in the labs before, they knew how they worked, and seemed to mostly hate it. I would, too. Pronunciation is frustrating in a second language, and a few of them are repeating this course again, after having failed it last year. They seemed to like me, though. As encouragement, I spoke in French a little bit, and sympathized with the fact that gaining a perfect accent in a second language is, as an adult, near impossible. And I don't expect that. Correct intonation and consistency is important, as well as an obvious effort to correct the bad 'abits we 'ave. I think it will be a good semester with them.
I saw Cynthia afterwards, and her now married roommate told her that she's starting to clear out, and that I can start staying there whenever I want. I won't have a key until October, but will definitely start sleeping there. I don't talk too much about the slum motel conditions anymore.. This is not because they have improved. In fact, I hate the slum motel so much more than I ever have, and as I don't want my blog to be a way for me to vent my problems (that's annoying), I have left the details out altogether.
Right now, Doctor is flying through the air, but fast approaching London. He'll be there for a night before heading to Rennes. Those of you who have seen me extremely excited will understand that the reason I can't write about how much I look forward to the visit is because there aren't really words to describe it.. I really, really can't wait.
To change the subject, I would like to publicly award my mother 132 points for sending me my first piece of mail. Yes, I check the mailbox everyday. Yes, it was a letter asking me my jury duty availability. Yes, I was very excited and ran up the stairs to read the small note attached. I mention it, though, because as I will only be there until the end of the month, any love letters or acrostic poems you are in the midst of perfecting should be sent out soon, as I will no longer check mail come October.
I would now like to talk about two things that I love, and two things that I do not love, about France or French culture (as I've noticed in Rennes). One will be a shorty about bathrooms, and one a little longy about other things. This is the supplementary reading package of the nerd blog, so if you are tired of reading, I understand.
Ahem.
Love
1. Co-ed bathrooms. For multiple reasons:
a) Women take too long. Always. This evens things out in a big way.
b) I hate being with male friends and having to put conversations on hold just so I can go into a separate room, even though it's something I don't care about. In Canada, I would often just use the men's, so I wouldn't have to stop talking or miss something important or fun.
c) I think it's the way of the future. Or should be. Gender shmender.
2. France is incredibly environmental. These are things I appreciate:
a) In the hallways and staircases of apartments and offices, the lights must be switched on when entering. After a few minutes, they turn off again. Darkened corridors and staircases are everywhere, unless there's someone in them.
b) Smaller cars everywhere. And less driving in the city. With an efficient and well-maintained metro system, people leave their cars at home and ride the rocket. Or cycle.
c) Less dryers. People hang their clothes up and wait for them to dry. Everyone.
The list goes on.
With more than double of Canada's population, France is making a conscious effort to not destroy the planet even further. I wish Canada would look here as an example. I have a very wise friend, who recently wrote about the upcoming elections. One thing he/she said was, "People don't know this, but Canada is actually one of the world's worst polluters. But we get all self-righteous cause America is worse and we're the comparatively less irresponsible little brother. It's time to change that." I couldn't agree more. Just because we have a small population living on a massive piece of land, doesn't mean we can pretend as if our resources won't run out or our actions won't have long-term consequences. As another wise man says, "What are YOU doing for Kyoto?" (2 points if you can identify him..)
Don't Love:
1. Public washrooms are not actually public. You have to pay! In the metro, train station, and "public" squares, you're asked to pay close to $1.00 to use the washroom. Unbelievable. Restaurants and bars are not keen on letting non-patrons use their facilities. I have found the perfect trick, which is entitled the Language Card. Thickest Canadian accent I can use, "Exuse-moy. S'il vous play, le toilet? Je suis canadian. Je le toilet. S'il vous play." Works like a charm.
2. I don't want to go on about this for too long because I actually feel very strongly about it and it makes me feel quite useless. But there is a very strong sense of nationalism that prohibits the full inclusion of minority groups. Deep-rooted in an historic and cultural pride that, being a foreigner, I can never fully understand, the idea of being French seems reserved to only those who have only ever been French, as far back as their line goes. Meaning that they are white. This sentiment is not only noticeable to me in a place like the Prefacture, but on the streets as well. Before I open my mouth, people assume I'm French because I'm white. This is not, however, the case for non-whites, even if their first language is French and they were born here. I know that it is not in an attempt to be racist, but the effect of this attitude is exclusion and intolerance.
I am quite sure that this is the reason the slum motel is full of North Africans, who are French in my eyes, as they were born here, but remain foreigners in the eyes of many others. And I know that I feel this way largely because of how Canada has shaped me. As another friend recently said, "Canada is percieved as and is a welcoming country that works well with diversity." This is why people like us! This is why I like us!
And purely anecdotally: The French word for foreigner is étranger, having the word "strange" embedded right in it. It has always struck me as an unwelcoming word...
End of supplementary reading package.
This afternoon is sunny and warm, and I plan on getting out of this office and taking advantage of it! I hope this finds you all well.
With love,
Hincks.
Yesterday morning I got up early to go to La Prefecture. I normally translate everything into English, but I have no idea what it really means.. It's the land where I was to get my work visa extended past three months. Most of you don't know this, but the French consulate in Toronto made me jump through a thousand hell-fire hoops to get my work visa there, only to give it to me for three months.. The rest of the hoops were to be jumped through here.. The examinations the day before were part of it. In order to minimize waiting time, as I thought it might be busy there, I arrived at 845am, fifteen minutes before opening. I thought I would wait outside for fifteen, and then rush right through, getting out by 920 or so. Wrong. Before the large gates stood more than sixty people, and by the time they opened, the line had tripled behind me. All of a sudden, the stampede started. People from the back ran to the front, pushing women and children aside to try and get in first. Now, I am all for orderly lines and fairness, but I also refuse to end up last when I was in the first quarter of the giant line. So I dropped some bows, joined in the stampede, had a small argument with a rude man, and got in around where I should have anyways. I took my number and sat down. ... FOREVER. I didn't get out of there until after 11am. The lady asked me a hundred (mostly obscure) questions, looked at pages and pages of documents and their photocopies, and gave me a work visa that expires at the end of December. Awesome. Can't wait to do it all again.
Later, when I took the visa to my boss, she told me that they would likely call me back for an appointment, at which time they would issue me a work visa for the duration of my contract.. That would be good.
I spent the afternoon on campus, wanting to accomplish three things:
1. logging onto the wifi network
2. signing up for courses
3. joining sports teams
I was successful in the following ways:
1. The wifi worked out better than I imagined in the end, because I found a new techie friend! Little brother Ian has always been my saving grace, and has even given me transatlantic advice when things go wrong. There has also often been *insert bf here* who has been able to help. But this time, I needed a proxy address to be able to tap in, and I didn't know what it was or how to get it.
Enter Jean-Francois, a techie in love with Linux, Ubuntu, and my little lappy. He was delighted to help me out and explain how it all works. He said I could go back with any problems I run in to. Thanks, J-F!
2. One of the co-directors of the program was talking to me about writing a second Master's while I'm here. I study free of charge here, and since I already have one, I would be able to bypass year 1 and just do the 2nd year. I could take the courses during the year and write the dissertation in the summer. But I reallllyy wanted to take German. I thought about it for awhile, and decided that learning another language is more important to me right now than getting a random Master's degree just because I can. Maybe that's silly, but it's what I want right now. So I signed up for German class which is four hours a week and I'll start next Monday. The students I'll be with will have had a few years of German already, but I'd rather be at the bottom of the class and learn more, than take something like English and be bored. Obviously.
3. Cynthia and I checked out the intermural sports at the university and chose some we'd like to do. She doesn't like ball sports, so she's doing track and swimming. I'm doing volleyball a couple of times a week. Together, we want to check out if handball is that same great activity we played in elementary school against the school wall. And we're taking a dance class together entitled LindyHop. I don't know how to LindyHop, but will show you all upon my return. I also think it also sounds like DirtyPop, a hit NSync song from the 90s. And I love the 90s.
After that, we saw a poster that advertises free salsa lessons downtown, so we went to try and find the place. Unsuccessful, we ended up just walking around, down streets we hadn't yet seen. All of a sudden, we got to The Red Bean, a cafe that specializes in hot chocolate, and one many people have been talking about. Beside it, there was a crowd of people standing around and sipping champagne. We ventured over to see what the party was. Turns out, they were opening up a new Subway and giving out free sandwiches (any kind!) and champagne! God Bless America. We ate a delicious sammy and sipped champagne like rockstars for a long time. The Subway lady filled up our glasses until we were so full of the bubbly-bubbly that we left.
This morning I taught two classes. One was like the Monday one, except that instead of switching off with a professor, I'll switch off with another lecteur after the six weeks. It was a large class of all young French women. They were pretty shy but seem like nice students. I felt more confident than I did on Monday (since it was my first) and I think it went really well.
The other is a second year phonetics/pronunciation class. They're in a lab and sit in booths and there's a tape that plays and they practice. It's very structured. I sit at the front of the class and wear a headset like a pilate or a McDonalds drive-through worker and can individually listen in and correct them. At the end of the term, they record their final exam, and their mark is decided based on their weekly work, and their exam. This was a small class with less than ten students. A couple were nineteen, and the rest around or above my age. Mostly guys. Having worked in the labs before, they knew how they worked, and seemed to mostly hate it. I would, too. Pronunciation is frustrating in a second language, and a few of them are repeating this course again, after having failed it last year. They seemed to like me, though. As encouragement, I spoke in French a little bit, and sympathized with the fact that gaining a perfect accent in a second language is, as an adult, near impossible. And I don't expect that. Correct intonation and consistency is important, as well as an obvious effort to correct the bad 'abits we 'ave. I think it will be a good semester with them.
I saw Cynthia afterwards, and her now married roommate told her that she's starting to clear out, and that I can start staying there whenever I want. I won't have a key until October, but will definitely start sleeping there. I don't talk too much about the slum motel conditions anymore.. This is not because they have improved. In fact, I hate the slum motel so much more than I ever have, and as I don't want my blog to be a way for me to vent my problems (that's annoying), I have left the details out altogether.
Right now, Doctor is flying through the air, but fast approaching London. He'll be there for a night before heading to Rennes. Those of you who have seen me extremely excited will understand that the reason I can't write about how much I look forward to the visit is because there aren't really words to describe it.. I really, really can't wait.
To change the subject, I would like to publicly award my mother 132 points for sending me my first piece of mail. Yes, I check the mailbox everyday. Yes, it was a letter asking me my jury duty availability. Yes, I was very excited and ran up the stairs to read the small note attached. I mention it, though, because as I will only be there until the end of the month, any love letters or acrostic poems you are in the midst of perfecting should be sent out soon, as I will no longer check mail come October.
I would now like to talk about two things that I love, and two things that I do not love, about France or French culture (as I've noticed in Rennes). One will be a shorty about bathrooms, and one a little longy about other things. This is the supplementary reading package of the nerd blog, so if you are tired of reading, I understand.
Ahem.
Love
1. Co-ed bathrooms. For multiple reasons:
a) Women take too long. Always. This evens things out in a big way.
b) I hate being with male friends and having to put conversations on hold just so I can go into a separate room, even though it's something I don't care about. In Canada, I would often just use the men's, so I wouldn't have to stop talking or miss something important or fun.
c) I think it's the way of the future. Or should be. Gender shmender.
2. France is incredibly environmental. These are things I appreciate:
a) In the hallways and staircases of apartments and offices, the lights must be switched on when entering. After a few minutes, they turn off again. Darkened corridors and staircases are everywhere, unless there's someone in them.
b) Smaller cars everywhere. And less driving in the city. With an efficient and well-maintained metro system, people leave their cars at home and ride the rocket. Or cycle.
c) Less dryers. People hang their clothes up and wait for them to dry. Everyone.
The list goes on.
With more than double of Canada's population, France is making a conscious effort to not destroy the planet even further. I wish Canada would look here as an example. I have a very wise friend, who recently wrote about the upcoming elections. One thing he/she said was, "People don't know this, but Canada is actually one of the world's worst polluters. But we get all self-righteous cause America is worse and we're the comparatively less irresponsible little brother. It's time to change that." I couldn't agree more. Just because we have a small population living on a massive piece of land, doesn't mean we can pretend as if our resources won't run out or our actions won't have long-term consequences. As another wise man says, "What are YOU doing for Kyoto?" (2 points if you can identify him..)
Don't Love:
1. Public washrooms are not actually public. You have to pay! In the metro, train station, and "public" squares, you're asked to pay close to $1.00 to use the washroom. Unbelievable. Restaurants and bars are not keen on letting non-patrons use their facilities. I have found the perfect trick, which is entitled the Language Card. Thickest Canadian accent I can use, "Exuse-moy. S'il vous play, le toilet? Je suis canadian. Je le toilet. S'il vous play." Works like a charm.
2. I don't want to go on about this for too long because I actually feel very strongly about it and it makes me feel quite useless. But there is a very strong sense of nationalism that prohibits the full inclusion of minority groups. Deep-rooted in an historic and cultural pride that, being a foreigner, I can never fully understand, the idea of being French seems reserved to only those who have only ever been French, as far back as their line goes. Meaning that they are white. This sentiment is not only noticeable to me in a place like the Prefacture, but on the streets as well. Before I open my mouth, people assume I'm French because I'm white. This is not, however, the case for non-whites, even if their first language is French and they were born here. I know that it is not in an attempt to be racist, but the effect of this attitude is exclusion and intolerance.
I am quite sure that this is the reason the slum motel is full of North Africans, who are French in my eyes, as they were born here, but remain foreigners in the eyes of many others. And I know that I feel this way largely because of how Canada has shaped me. As another friend recently said, "Canada is percieved as and is a welcoming country that works well with diversity." This is why people like us! This is why I like us!
And purely anecdotally: The French word for foreigner is étranger, having the word "strange" embedded right in it. It has always struck me as an unwelcoming word...
End of supplementary reading package.
This afternoon is sunny and warm, and I plan on getting out of this office and taking advantage of it! I hope this finds you all well.
With love,
Hincks.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Chapter 15: Off Your Top
nerd blog post #16
An eventful few days.. This will either be very long, or very compact with info. Probably the first.. Standart.
Okay. So Saturday night was fine.. The lecteurs and I (keep in mind Cynthia is still in the US for med school interviews) went to Thirsty Street and then I did my best to drag them dancing. Some petered out, but three of us (the three who live in the projects) went. It was okay. We were home pretty early. The highlights included:
1. Meeting a teen who worked at a summer camp near TO (Hollows Camp) and who was obsessed with Canada. He said, in English, with the thickest accent you can imagine, "My large dream in this life is to be a fireman ... in Canada!" Go for it, tiger.
2. There was a man beside our table who had a pet rat with him. Loanne would have passed out. Deeks would have shot it. It was this giant white rat that was running around the inside of this clothes - up and down his arms, his pants, his head.. Hilarious. Then the rat came on our table and was licking the sides of our glasses. I thought it was so funny and took a thousand photos. I'll put them on here latron.
Yesterday I had a great day to myself. I did laundry and very inventfully hung it to dry in my room. (I would like to talk about the environment later on, FYI.) Then I took off on an adventure walk down the river. I saw yet another fisherman and chatted with him for awhile. He does catch fish, but throws them back. He had three rods going, but hadn't caught anything yet. He also had a nice dog named Lion (yes, it was 'L' year) and I told him I had a friend named Lion (kind of..) and then we talked about Africa. I also read some of my book and wrote out what I would do in the next few classes.
In the evening, I did some writing on my compy and then met P-A and Thelma for some field and forest discovery. We poked around for hours, getting lost in the backwoods of Rennes, watching Thelma swim in the river, crossing small foot bridges, walking through tall grasses... This city has everything, and I'm in love with it.
This morning I had to get up very early for my medical examination. It was kind of far away, so I bought a day pass on the metro. For about $3.25, you can ride all day. It was a very efficient examination, but took a long time. First, I had a kind of interview with a nurse, who asked me a ton of questions. Allergies, family history, vaccination history, what my brothers do for a living, how people die in my family, etc.. That went on for over twenty minutes and some of the questions were very bizarre. Then I went into a very small closet with doors on both sides. No, not Narnia, but close. The instructions were written on the wall in French and English. The English ones read as follows:
1. Please Off Your Top
2. Wait for Doctor to Take You
Hmm... Sounds a little sketchy to me. So I offed my top and waited a few minutes for the doctor to take me. After a few minutes, the doctor opens the opposite door and leads me into this hallway. I'm told to leave my stuff in the Narnia closet, along with all my stuff.. I care more about leaving my passport than my clothes, so put it in my back pocket. Then I walk, offed top, down the hall, passing other doctors who bonjour me, and into this little room. Then I have to get into this thing that looks like a Time Machine and press my offed top onto what feels like a block of ice. I have to put my head through this guillotine hole and breathe in and hold my breath. I thought they were going to kill me, half naked, but it was over quickly. Then I get out and have to walk back to the Narnia closet alone, passing more peeps, and re-dress. Weirdest thing of my life. Then I have to sit on a chair for a minute, until the doctor comes and gives me my lung x-ray. I take it into this other room, where a different doctor makes me take a vision test. Then another doctor, in another room, looks in my mouth and touches my teeth. Then yet another one makes me off top (again!) and takes my heart rate, pulse, etc etc. Finally, I sign a thousand pieces of paper and am finished. I asked if I could keep my x-ray and they said yes. So now I have a very large x-ray of my insides. And an experience I will never, ever forget.
After that extremely overwhelming and foreign experience, I had to bust a move to campus to get to my first class. Most of my classes are quite different from each other, so perhaps it will be easiest, and shortest, to explain each day that I have a new class, how it went.
First of all, the university system is (obviously) quite different here. A degree is only three years. My university (and most) are public, which means that they cost very little ($500 or so) and if you passed high school, you can be admitted. This means that in first year at least, there may be a huge difference between the best and the worst students. It also means that in a department like English, where the students did not have to write a test or even get good marks to get in, the levels will be all over the place.
So today I taught a first-year class. This was there first day of university ever, and since it was in the morning, it was also all of their first class! How this class works, is that I have the students (there are 21) for the first six weeks, and then a legit prof has them for the second six weeks, at which point I'll take the students he has right now. At the end of the semester, we'll conference together to give them each a mark. It will likely be the average of my mark for a particular student, and his, although since he is a professor, he'll have more say. I don't, however, link up with the prof until the end of the semester.
None of my classes are linked with another class, so it is not like being a TA who has the lab or tutorial part of a larger course. This is a class they have selected and the mark is entirely based on the time with me, and then with the prof. What happens in the class is really up to me, though there are some general guidelines. By the end of the first six weeks, they need to know how to do a certain number of things before going to the other guy. This is mostly an oral class, as there are other classes for writing, though I can give them whatever homeworks I want.
The overarching plan is mostly to either bring everyone to the same level, or to filter out those students who maybe shouldn't be in the program.. So for this class, by the end of the first six weeks, some of the goals include:
-being able to interpret and describe images, graphs, paintings, etc.
-good pronunciation, analysis and interpretation of texts
-discussion and debate of a political issue
Stuff like that.
Other than that, it's up to me what we do on a weekly basis so they reach those goals. They have a reading list, and I know what they'll be doing in some of their other classes, so I can integrate that if I want. And I'll assign weekly homework.
I was a bit nervous going in, as can be expected, but very excited. I started by drawing a big Canadian leaf on the board and writing my name in it. When I said good morning, I got a very enthusiastic, "Good morning, Mlle. Ank!" I told them to call me Emily. The botching of Hincks is too much to bear. Then I told them about myself and went around the room and got them to tell me about themselves, to see how their English was. Most of the students are 18-20, but I have some older ones, too. Most are from in and around Rennes, with one woman in her thirties from Kenya, and a youngster from Madagascar. Very cool.
Many people warned me about first years - that they are misbehaved and disrespectful. I thought they were wonderful. They all filed in and sat in the back. I made them all come to the front. I told them about Canada and Toronto and set some rules for the class. I also dressed like a grade 1 teacher and even carried a briefcase! It was so fun. I absolutely loved it. I told them that I was happy to help them with anything or answer any questions. More than half of them stuck around after class with various questions, which was nice.
I have a budget for the year, which I plan on spending on treats for the end of six week party. A theme party, no doubt.
At the end of the class, when I asked if there were any questions, one young man asked me to speak French so he could hear how a Canadian sounds. I did, and they all laughed a bit. But I didn't mind.
After class, I went to my office and got ready for the rest of the week. Then I met Cynthia at the train station. I was happy to see her. We went to the .. place where the mayor works, because we heard there was a welcome package for new Rennais! We went, showed some proof, and got a huge presie from the city - free stuff galore. And an invitation to a party! It's an historic tour of Rennes, followed by a reception at City Hall with the mayor, and then hearing the Opera. What fun. Thanks, Rennes. I already RSVPed. I love parties.
Gah! I have so much more I want to write, but I fear this is getting too long.....
I should sign off before I lose valued subscribers...
Thinking of you all. Much love sent to the true North, strong, and free.
Hincks.
An eventful few days.. This will either be very long, or very compact with info. Probably the first.. Standart.
Okay. So Saturday night was fine.. The lecteurs and I (keep in mind Cynthia is still in the US for med school interviews) went to Thirsty Street and then I did my best to drag them dancing. Some petered out, but three of us (the three who live in the projects) went. It was okay. We were home pretty early. The highlights included:
1. Meeting a teen who worked at a summer camp near TO (Hollows Camp) and who was obsessed with Canada. He said, in English, with the thickest accent you can imagine, "My large dream in this life is to be a fireman ... in Canada!" Go for it, tiger.
2. There was a man beside our table who had a pet rat with him. Loanne would have passed out. Deeks would have shot it. It was this giant white rat that was running around the inside of this clothes - up and down his arms, his pants, his head.. Hilarious. Then the rat came on our table and was licking the sides of our glasses. I thought it was so funny and took a thousand photos. I'll put them on here latron.
Yesterday I had a great day to myself. I did laundry and very inventfully hung it to dry in my room. (I would like to talk about the environment later on, FYI.) Then I took off on an adventure walk down the river. I saw yet another fisherman and chatted with him for awhile. He does catch fish, but throws them back. He had three rods going, but hadn't caught anything yet. He also had a nice dog named Lion (yes, it was 'L' year) and I told him I had a friend named Lion (kind of..) and then we talked about Africa. I also read some of my book and wrote out what I would do in the next few classes.
In the evening, I did some writing on my compy and then met P-A and Thelma for some field and forest discovery. We poked around for hours, getting lost in the backwoods of Rennes, watching Thelma swim in the river, crossing small foot bridges, walking through tall grasses... This city has everything, and I'm in love with it.
This morning I had to get up very early for my medical examination. It was kind of far away, so I bought a day pass on the metro. For about $3.25, you can ride all day. It was a very efficient examination, but took a long time. First, I had a kind of interview with a nurse, who asked me a ton of questions. Allergies, family history, vaccination history, what my brothers do for a living, how people die in my family, etc.. That went on for over twenty minutes and some of the questions were very bizarre. Then I went into a very small closet with doors on both sides. No, not Narnia, but close. The instructions were written on the wall in French and English. The English ones read as follows:
1. Please Off Your Top
2. Wait for Doctor to Take You
Hmm... Sounds a little sketchy to me. So I offed my top and waited a few minutes for the doctor to take me. After a few minutes, the doctor opens the opposite door and leads me into this hallway. I'm told to leave my stuff in the Narnia closet, along with all my stuff.. I care more about leaving my passport than my clothes, so put it in my back pocket. Then I walk, offed top, down the hall, passing other doctors who bonjour me, and into this little room. Then I have to get into this thing that looks like a Time Machine and press my offed top onto what feels like a block of ice. I have to put my head through this guillotine hole and breathe in and hold my breath. I thought they were going to kill me, half naked, but it was over quickly. Then I get out and have to walk back to the Narnia closet alone, passing more peeps, and re-dress. Weirdest thing of my life. Then I have to sit on a chair for a minute, until the doctor comes and gives me my lung x-ray. I take it into this other room, where a different doctor makes me take a vision test. Then another doctor, in another room, looks in my mouth and touches my teeth. Then yet another one makes me off top (again!) and takes my heart rate, pulse, etc etc. Finally, I sign a thousand pieces of paper and am finished. I asked if I could keep my x-ray and they said yes. So now I have a very large x-ray of my insides. And an experience I will never, ever forget.
After that extremely overwhelming and foreign experience, I had to bust a move to campus to get to my first class. Most of my classes are quite different from each other, so perhaps it will be easiest, and shortest, to explain each day that I have a new class, how it went.
First of all, the university system is (obviously) quite different here. A degree is only three years. My university (and most) are public, which means that they cost very little ($500 or so) and if you passed high school, you can be admitted. This means that in first year at least, there may be a huge difference between the best and the worst students. It also means that in a department like English, where the students did not have to write a test or even get good marks to get in, the levels will be all over the place.
So today I taught a first-year class. This was there first day of university ever, and since it was in the morning, it was also all of their first class! How this class works, is that I have the students (there are 21) for the first six weeks, and then a legit prof has them for the second six weeks, at which point I'll take the students he has right now. At the end of the semester, we'll conference together to give them each a mark. It will likely be the average of my mark for a particular student, and his, although since he is a professor, he'll have more say. I don't, however, link up with the prof until the end of the semester.
None of my classes are linked with another class, so it is not like being a TA who has the lab or tutorial part of a larger course. This is a class they have selected and the mark is entirely based on the time with me, and then with the prof. What happens in the class is really up to me, though there are some general guidelines. By the end of the first six weeks, they need to know how to do a certain number of things before going to the other guy. This is mostly an oral class, as there are other classes for writing, though I can give them whatever homeworks I want.
The overarching plan is mostly to either bring everyone to the same level, or to filter out those students who maybe shouldn't be in the program.. So for this class, by the end of the first six weeks, some of the goals include:
-being able to interpret and describe images, graphs, paintings, etc.
-good pronunciation, analysis and interpretation of texts
-discussion and debate of a political issue
Stuff like that.
Other than that, it's up to me what we do on a weekly basis so they reach those goals. They have a reading list, and I know what they'll be doing in some of their other classes, so I can integrate that if I want. And I'll assign weekly homework.
I was a bit nervous going in, as can be expected, but very excited. I started by drawing a big Canadian leaf on the board and writing my name in it. When I said good morning, I got a very enthusiastic, "Good morning, Mlle. Ank!" I told them to call me Emily. The botching of Hincks is too much to bear. Then I told them about myself and went around the room and got them to tell me about themselves, to see how their English was. Most of the students are 18-20, but I have some older ones, too. Most are from in and around Rennes, with one woman in her thirties from Kenya, and a youngster from Madagascar. Very cool.
Many people warned me about first years - that they are misbehaved and disrespectful. I thought they were wonderful. They all filed in and sat in the back. I made them all come to the front. I told them about Canada and Toronto and set some rules for the class. I also dressed like a grade 1 teacher and even carried a briefcase! It was so fun. I absolutely loved it. I told them that I was happy to help them with anything or answer any questions. More than half of them stuck around after class with various questions, which was nice.
I have a budget for the year, which I plan on spending on treats for the end of six week party. A theme party, no doubt.
At the end of the class, when I asked if there were any questions, one young man asked me to speak French so he could hear how a Canadian sounds. I did, and they all laughed a bit. But I didn't mind.
After class, I went to my office and got ready for the rest of the week. Then I met Cynthia at the train station. I was happy to see her. We went to the .. place where the mayor works, because we heard there was a welcome package for new Rennais! We went, showed some proof, and got a huge presie from the city - free stuff galore. And an invitation to a party! It's an historic tour of Rennes, followed by a reception at City Hall with the mayor, and then hearing the Opera. What fun. Thanks, Rennes. I already RSVPed. I love parties.
Gah! I have so much more I want to write, but I fear this is getting too long.....
I should sign off before I lose valued subscribers...
Thinking of you all. Much love sent to the true North, strong, and free.
Hincks.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Chapter 14: Satur-hooray
nerd blog post #15
I think Saturday is my favourite day of the week here in Rennes. I met the other lecteurs this morning and we walked through the market. I call today Marche Day (marsh-ay day). I love the market. I did some shopping for Hossoen before - some veggies for his sandwich, and he made me an espresso for my hard work. He also invited me to his house for dinner sometime. His wife speaks five languages and is an English prof at the private university here. And he has three teen sons. (!)
For lunch, the girls and I got galettes, which are a traditional Breton meal. They're crepes (also invented here) but saltier, and normally have ham, cheese, or egg inside. I had a cheese one. To complete the Breton meal, we bought a little bottle of Breton cider (they cost about $2 a bottle) and enjoyed our little feast on the cobblestone street. It was delicious.
Last night P-A and I had champagne like it ain't no thange and watched a French movie. Champagne here is cheaper than cheap wine in Ontario, and is very tasty. He was very surprised to hear that for us, champagne is for New Year's, weddings, and other big occasions. Unless you're a baller, I guess..
I'm looking forward to Cynthia's return on Monday. In the evening, we're all going to her roommates favourite place - O'Connell's - which is an Irish pub with English speaking peeps. I don't really need to practice my English, but she's getting married today, and so we're having a bit of a post-wedding bachelorette party for her.
Also Monday, I teach my first class. But before that, I have to go for my examinations so I can continue the process of getting the rest of my visa. I can't eat or drink anything that morning because I'm getting a chest x-ray.. Weird.
Today, someone stopped me on the street, asking me for directions. She started by asking me if I was from the neighbourhood. I said yes, and then gave her the directions she needed. After I thought about it, and it may have been weird that I said I was from that neighbourhood. I always say I'm from Toronto, but I wasn't born there. I'm definitely not (or at least don't feel as though I am) from Peterborough, where I was born. I also don't really feel as though I'm from the Beaches, as I haven't really lived there in five years. Sometimes I feel as though I'm from Kingston, since those were such important years.. And this past year, downtown TO was definitely my home. And then there's obviously a huge part of me that's rooted in Lesotho. I'm a confused young lady. I don't know where I'm from. What I do know, though, is that I'm fortunate to be able to adjust quickly, and whether I'm from a place or not, I can quickly make it home. Which is what I think I meant when I told her I was from here..
And so I ask you (for 4 points each, no doubt) the following:
1. Where am I from?
2. Where are you from?
3. Would you like fries with that?
No post tomorrow as everything is closed. And so, until Monday.
With love,
Hincks.
I think Saturday is my favourite day of the week here in Rennes. I met the other lecteurs this morning and we walked through the market. I call today Marche Day (marsh-ay day). I love the market. I did some shopping for Hossoen before - some veggies for his sandwich, and he made me an espresso for my hard work. He also invited me to his house for dinner sometime. His wife speaks five languages and is an English prof at the private university here. And he has three teen sons. (!)
For lunch, the girls and I got galettes, which are a traditional Breton meal. They're crepes (also invented here) but saltier, and normally have ham, cheese, or egg inside. I had a cheese one. To complete the Breton meal, we bought a little bottle of Breton cider (they cost about $2 a bottle) and enjoyed our little feast on the cobblestone street. It was delicious.
Last night P-A and I had champagne like it ain't no thange and watched a French movie. Champagne here is cheaper than cheap wine in Ontario, and is very tasty. He was very surprised to hear that for us, champagne is for New Year's, weddings, and other big occasions. Unless you're a baller, I guess..
I'm looking forward to Cynthia's return on Monday. In the evening, we're all going to her roommates favourite place - O'Connell's - which is an Irish pub with English speaking peeps. I don't really need to practice my English, but she's getting married today, and so we're having a bit of a post-wedding bachelorette party for her.
Also Monday, I teach my first class. But before that, I have to go for my examinations so I can continue the process of getting the rest of my visa. I can't eat or drink anything that morning because I'm getting a chest x-ray.. Weird.
Today, someone stopped me on the street, asking me for directions. She started by asking me if I was from the neighbourhood. I said yes, and then gave her the directions she needed. After I thought about it, and it may have been weird that I said I was from that neighbourhood. I always say I'm from Toronto, but I wasn't born there. I'm definitely not (or at least don't feel as though I am) from Peterborough, where I was born. I also don't really feel as though I'm from the Beaches, as I haven't really lived there in five years. Sometimes I feel as though I'm from Kingston, since those were such important years.. And this past year, downtown TO was definitely my home. And then there's obviously a huge part of me that's rooted in Lesotho. I'm a confused young lady. I don't know where I'm from. What I do know, though, is that I'm fortunate to be able to adjust quickly, and whether I'm from a place or not, I can quickly make it home. Which is what I think I meant when I told her I was from here..
And so I ask you (for 4 points each, no doubt) the following:
1. Where am I from?
2. Where are you from?
3. Would you like fries with that?
No post tomorrow as everything is closed. And so, until Monday.
With love,
Hincks.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Chapter 13: Working Nine to Five
post #14
The past couple of days have been busy, sunny, and exciting. Just the way I like 'em!
Wednesday was my last day before work, so I decided that I would, afterall, borrow a bike from the slum motel and ride forever. I packed a micmic lunch, along with my book, some writing stuff, a blankie, and bike lights JUST in case I got lost or needed to investigate something with more light. When I went to Maud to rent a bike, she took me into this sketchy room with weird things in it. She had told me there were four bikes to rent, but that two were broken. Meaning there are two bikes to rent, really, and they were both taken. I asked when they'd be back and after consulting her book, she told me one would be back Monday, and the other on October 1st. Perfect. Thanks, Maud. I'll just wait on the front step for them.
Instead, I went on an epic walk. I walked for almost two hours and ended up so far into the country that even the runners and cyclists had stopped passing me. The river becomes more and more beautiful the further you go, and I was very happy. I eventually stopped and ate my lunch and read Hemingway and then sunbathed a bit. The sun was hot. Then I took a small snooze and returned to the projects to dump my stuff back. OH! I also saw a fisherman! I was excited to talk to him to see if there were, in fact, fish in the river. He told me that he was fishing for a wife. Great, convo, man. I continued back.
Later in the afternoon I met some of the other lecteurs for coffee and then wrote a postcard. In the evening, I went to Pierre-Antoine's and we hung out. He is really great for practicing my French. He speaks quickly like young people tend to. He also doesn't speak English, and since he's never learned a second language, I don't think he thinks about using simpler words or speaking slowly. Not that that needs to be the reason to do either of those things, but just that, unlike many other people I've met, he talks to me as he'd talk to any French person. You know? Anyways.. This week-end I'm going to Saint-Malo and Dinard (the nieghbouring town) with him in his Peugeot. We'll sight-see and go swimming in the sea. Should be nice.
Yesterday I went to work to meet with everyone at the university. Sort of an orientation/training for what we'll be doing. All of us have different things to do and it's kind of hard to explain all of the different jobs we have because the system is different. But some lecteurs will give classes for the Applied Foreign Language department, which is for students studying more than one language. So any of those students, for example, would not be a part of the English department at all, even if English is one of the languages they're studying. That department uses a couple of our lecteurs though.. They asked me to be the link with the Faulkner Institute, which is downtown, and provide classes in speech giving and oral readings.. They also do some drama. Since I have a theatre background, they picked me. This posh-accented British girl will have to record some things.. Etc. It was an overwhelming afternoon. We met a dozen or so of the profs, were given our schedules, explained our positions, and then sent off. They met with us individually as well, to ask about certain extra things, like the Faulkner Institute, and to explain why we're assigned to certain things. There is also, of course, regular English department teaching as well.
My schedule is great. I work seven hours a week this semester, with Tuesdays and Fridays off. Next semester is heavier, with a whopping fifteen hours, and Monday and Friday off. With Doctor being in Amsterdam, I suspect a few 4-day week-end getaways to visit him...
Last night we had a pre-jam in the slum motel before hitting Thirsty Street. Fact: In the States, they call pre-jams, or pre-drinking (which, certain readers, is to enjoy cocktail before going out) pre-gaming. To pre-game. I like it. Anyways, we invited some other lecteurs from other departments. Hossoen (the artist formerly known as Osson) told me that Thursdays are the craziest night on Thirsty Street because most students go home for the week-end. Every night is busy, though. By midnight, it looked like Aberdeen on Homecoming. The good thing is that it is a pedestrian-only street, so activities such as car-flipping are trickier. And people are better behaved, no doubt.
Today I went back to the university to get keys to the department, classrooms and my office. Complete with wifi and a coffee maker, I'm ready to camp out there for awhile. I share it with a prof from the States who came as a lecteur many years ago, did his PhD in France, and has been at Rennes since. The office is big enough for six, and has big windows and is well-lit. It's in the building right next to the one the English Department is in, which is great.
This afternoon, I cleaned my room and started doing some lesson planning. We can have someone else do our photocopying (like the P&CC) and just have to drop it off with a couple of days for them to do it. I want to get weeks two and three done before Doc gets here so we can really relax. I'll spend my not Saint-Malo day doing that.
Yes, life in Rennes is very nice. The people say hi to one another on the street just like in the opening scene of Beauty and the Beast. Getting a coffee "to go" is unheard of, because no one is going anywhere. Just chill and drink it at the cafe. And whether they hate Americans or love Canadians, they have been more than welcoming to me, and I feel very lucky..
There's so much more I want to write, but I feel as though I should spread it out so I don't lose valued readers.
And so, happy Friday. And love sent your way.
Signing off,
Dolly Parton
The past couple of days have been busy, sunny, and exciting. Just the way I like 'em!
Wednesday was my last day before work, so I decided that I would, afterall, borrow a bike from the slum motel and ride forever. I packed a micmic lunch, along with my book, some writing stuff, a blankie, and bike lights JUST in case I got lost or needed to investigate something with more light. When I went to Maud to rent a bike, she took me into this sketchy room with weird things in it. She had told me there were four bikes to rent, but that two were broken. Meaning there are two bikes to rent, really, and they were both taken. I asked when they'd be back and after consulting her book, she told me one would be back Monday, and the other on October 1st. Perfect. Thanks, Maud. I'll just wait on the front step for them.
Instead, I went on an epic walk. I walked for almost two hours and ended up so far into the country that even the runners and cyclists had stopped passing me. The river becomes more and more beautiful the further you go, and I was very happy. I eventually stopped and ate my lunch and read Hemingway and then sunbathed a bit. The sun was hot. Then I took a small snooze and returned to the projects to dump my stuff back. OH! I also saw a fisherman! I was excited to talk to him to see if there were, in fact, fish in the river. He told me that he was fishing for a wife. Great, convo, man. I continued back.
Later in the afternoon I met some of the other lecteurs for coffee and then wrote a postcard. In the evening, I went to Pierre-Antoine's and we hung out. He is really great for practicing my French. He speaks quickly like young people tend to. He also doesn't speak English, and since he's never learned a second language, I don't think he thinks about using simpler words or speaking slowly. Not that that needs to be the reason to do either of those things, but just that, unlike many other people I've met, he talks to me as he'd talk to any French person. You know? Anyways.. This week-end I'm going to Saint-Malo and Dinard (the nieghbouring town) with him in his Peugeot. We'll sight-see and go swimming in the sea. Should be nice.
Yesterday I went to work to meet with everyone at the university. Sort of an orientation/training for what we'll be doing. All of us have different things to do and it's kind of hard to explain all of the different jobs we have because the system is different. But some lecteurs will give classes for the Applied Foreign Language department, which is for students studying more than one language. So any of those students, for example, would not be a part of the English department at all, even if English is one of the languages they're studying. That department uses a couple of our lecteurs though.. They asked me to be the link with the Faulkner Institute, which is downtown, and provide classes in speech giving and oral readings.. They also do some drama. Since I have a theatre background, they picked me. This posh-accented British girl will have to record some things.. Etc. It was an overwhelming afternoon. We met a dozen or so of the profs, were given our schedules, explained our positions, and then sent off. They met with us individually as well, to ask about certain extra things, like the Faulkner Institute, and to explain why we're assigned to certain things. There is also, of course, regular English department teaching as well.
My schedule is great. I work seven hours a week this semester, with Tuesdays and Fridays off. Next semester is heavier, with a whopping fifteen hours, and Monday and Friday off. With Doctor being in Amsterdam, I suspect a few 4-day week-end getaways to visit him...
Last night we had a pre-jam in the slum motel before hitting Thirsty Street. Fact: In the States, they call pre-jams, or pre-drinking (which, certain readers, is to enjoy cocktail before going out) pre-gaming. To pre-game. I like it. Anyways, we invited some other lecteurs from other departments. Hossoen (the artist formerly known as Osson) told me that Thursdays are the craziest night on Thirsty Street because most students go home for the week-end. Every night is busy, though. By midnight, it looked like Aberdeen on Homecoming. The good thing is that it is a pedestrian-only street, so activities such as car-flipping are trickier. And people are better behaved, no doubt.
Today I went back to the university to get keys to the department, classrooms and my office. Complete with wifi and a coffee maker, I'm ready to camp out there for awhile. I share it with a prof from the States who came as a lecteur many years ago, did his PhD in France, and has been at Rennes since. The office is big enough for six, and has big windows and is well-lit. It's in the building right next to the one the English Department is in, which is great.
This afternoon, I cleaned my room and started doing some lesson planning. We can have someone else do our photocopying (like the P&CC) and just have to drop it off with a couple of days for them to do it. I want to get weeks two and three done before Doc gets here so we can really relax. I'll spend my not Saint-Malo day doing that.
Yes, life in Rennes is very nice. The people say hi to one another on the street just like in the opening scene of Beauty and the Beast. Getting a coffee "to go" is unheard of, because no one is going anywhere. Just chill and drink it at the cafe. And whether they hate Americans or love Canadians, they have been more than welcoming to me, and I feel very lucky..
There's so much more I want to write, but I feel as though I should spread it out so I don't lose valued readers.
And so, happy Friday. And love sent your way.
Signing off,
Dolly Parton
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Chapter 12: Thelma
mitochondria watch that plasma nerd blog post #13
Sooo yesterday I met Merrill, another lecteur in my department at the train station. I walked there. It's on the other side of town and took only 30 minutes. I love how everything is so close. I took her to the slum motel and she got a room. That makes 3 out of 5 in the English department who now live there. Hilarious.
At 2pm I was to meet my French date, Pierre-Antoine. This story is chock full of typical Hinckster awkwardness.. Get ready. Pascal's advice was to be late. I guess that's fashionable? I took his advice, but am really bad at being late, so was there at about 2:03. Which is late. No P-A. I waited. 2:10. I'm getting annoyed. 10 minutes late for a first date? For me, that's kind of unacceptable. I decided that the best idea was to hide around a corner and wait for him to get there so that I would be the later one. Okay, so we were meeting in this big square called Champs Jacquet at the big statue of the famous man. When I met P-A on Saturday, I learned that he lived just around the corner from the slum, so I knew which way he would be coming. From around the corner, I could stand on this store window ledge (a foot off the ground or so) and peek through that window, and then through another, to have a good view of both the statue AND the road he should have walked down. Good idea? Nope. Busted. "Emilie?" He was right behind me. He asked what I was doing.. Waiting, I said. Hiding, he asked? Umm... Busted. I had nothing.
We went to a restaurant/cafe place. He ordered so fast that I didn't understand. I didn't know if he had ordered a beer, or a sandwich, or a coffee.. I didn't want to order a giant pint if he was to receive a little OJ. So I said the same. A double espresso came. The first thing I did was to cross my legs under the table, which knocked the table and his piping hot coffee all over his trendy pants and white shirt... Oopsies. He got another one. It was kind of bad.
The awkwardness basically ends there. We had a good chat and then, after talking about his dog (!) for a long time, went to meet the dog. This dog is a giant, all white beauty. I love dogs. We chilled at his place, and had another coffee. He offered me yet another one. No! A double espresso AND a cup of coffee is enough, Pierre-Antoine! What are you thinking? I had H2O. Then we took the dog for a walk. We went this back way out of his building which is right on the Vilaine. It was really pretty - not next to a road at all, but just like the country. It led to a huge field with tall grass, and then into a forest. Very cool. Then back along the river and looped around back to his place. A nice, long walk. With dog.
The dog's name? Thelma. I thought that was totally bizarre. Thelma is a grandma's name. Not a huge white dog. So strange, Pierre-Antoine.
After that, I went to Cynthia's and read over her med school essay. She studied genetics and French at the University of Rochester and is applying to med school for next September. She left today, actually, to return to Texas (her home state) for 2 interviews, and will be back Monday.
Then her roommate came by and we went for dinner to this nice Italian place. It was pricey, which I hate, but sucked it up as I knew we were to talk about the apartment. Since she has already paid the rent for September, she said she'd move out slowly over the rest of the month and that I could take over officially on October 1st. Great news! It's a great place and I'm excited to live there. She offered that I can stay there whenever I like, and take my stuff in when I like. I'd like to start next week so that Doctor can stay there with me when he's here, if she doesn't mind. There's more space and it's nicer.. Since I'll still kind of be at the slum motel, he'll definitely get to see it. Which is good, too. Someone has to see my pad there.. This girl is really nice. My age, from Indiana, went to Rochester, and had our job last year. She's great for telling us about the job and the city. And is really happy that a Torontonian is taking her room - she says she loves Canadians. Obvi. Then she paid for the whole dinner as a welcome presie! I couldn't believe it. So nice.
After that, we met the other lecteurs on Thirsty Street for a bevvie and then I went home and to bed.
I'm not sure what I'll do today. I might get a bike and do the epic ride I wanted to do Sunday. I have no administrative things to do, and I start work tomorrow. With Cynthia gone, I look forward to a day by myself. But with two other lecteurs in my building, eager to hang, I might see them a bit, too. I don't know yet.
I would just like to say how much I love being Canadian. I really do. Most people guess I'm American. I always say, "NON!" really loudly, as if I'm offended (I'm not) and then, with a big smile, "Je suis canadienne!" They always laugh and become much more at ease.. They love Canadians. Everyone knows someone who moved to Canada and never came back, which I guess is proof that it's good. They also think I'm brave for handling the winters there since it never snows here. More than a couple of people have said that my parents must be nice people. They are, but weird comment! They also know that most of Canada is English-speaking, so they like that I embrace the Quebec side of Canada. And Toronto is a famous city, so they like to ask about the big buildings there. Basically, by saying, "Je suis canadienne," I win a free smile, conversation, and immediate respect. Plus, a difference in saying it in French than in English, is that in one short sentence I include both my nationality and my gender. So really there's no confusion anywhere. I see the difference it makes being Canadian when I'm with Cynthia. They ask her which state, she says Texas, they call her a cowboy (this has happened almost every time), all parties laugh, and then they just want to talk about Canada. It makes me really proud. I wouldn't trade it for anything.
With Canadianne pride,
Hincks.
Sooo yesterday I met Merrill, another lecteur in my department at the train station. I walked there. It's on the other side of town and took only 30 minutes. I love how everything is so close. I took her to the slum motel and she got a room. That makes 3 out of 5 in the English department who now live there. Hilarious.
At 2pm I was to meet my French date, Pierre-Antoine. This story is chock full of typical Hinckster awkwardness.. Get ready. Pascal's advice was to be late. I guess that's fashionable? I took his advice, but am really bad at being late, so was there at about 2:03. Which is late. No P-A. I waited. 2:10. I'm getting annoyed. 10 minutes late for a first date? For me, that's kind of unacceptable. I decided that the best idea was to hide around a corner and wait for him to get there so that I would be the later one. Okay, so we were meeting in this big square called Champs Jacquet at the big statue of the famous man. When I met P-A on Saturday, I learned that he lived just around the corner from the slum, so I knew which way he would be coming. From around the corner, I could stand on this store window ledge (a foot off the ground or so) and peek through that window, and then through another, to have a good view of both the statue AND the road he should have walked down. Good idea? Nope. Busted. "Emilie?" He was right behind me. He asked what I was doing.. Waiting, I said. Hiding, he asked? Umm... Busted. I had nothing.
We went to a restaurant/cafe place. He ordered so fast that I didn't understand. I didn't know if he had ordered a beer, or a sandwich, or a coffee.. I didn't want to order a giant pint if he was to receive a little OJ. So I said the same. A double espresso came. The first thing I did was to cross my legs under the table, which knocked the table and his piping hot coffee all over his trendy pants and white shirt... Oopsies. He got another one. It was kind of bad.
The awkwardness basically ends there. We had a good chat and then, after talking about his dog (!) for a long time, went to meet the dog. This dog is a giant, all white beauty. I love dogs. We chilled at his place, and had another coffee. He offered me yet another one. No! A double espresso AND a cup of coffee is enough, Pierre-Antoine! What are you thinking? I had H2O. Then we took the dog for a walk. We went this back way out of his building which is right on the Vilaine. It was really pretty - not next to a road at all, but just like the country. It led to a huge field with tall grass, and then into a forest. Very cool. Then back along the river and looped around back to his place. A nice, long walk. With dog.
The dog's name? Thelma. I thought that was totally bizarre. Thelma is a grandma's name. Not a huge white dog. So strange, Pierre-Antoine.
After that, I went to Cynthia's and read over her med school essay. She studied genetics and French at the University of Rochester and is applying to med school for next September. She left today, actually, to return to Texas (her home state) for 2 interviews, and will be back Monday.
Then her roommate came by and we went for dinner to this nice Italian place. It was pricey, which I hate, but sucked it up as I knew we were to talk about the apartment. Since she has already paid the rent for September, she said she'd move out slowly over the rest of the month and that I could take over officially on October 1st. Great news! It's a great place and I'm excited to live there. She offered that I can stay there whenever I like, and take my stuff in when I like. I'd like to start next week so that Doctor can stay there with me when he's here, if she doesn't mind. There's more space and it's nicer.. Since I'll still kind of be at the slum motel, he'll definitely get to see it. Which is good, too. Someone has to see my pad there.. This girl is really nice. My age, from Indiana, went to Rochester, and had our job last year. She's great for telling us about the job and the city. And is really happy that a Torontonian is taking her room - she says she loves Canadians. Obvi. Then she paid for the whole dinner as a welcome presie! I couldn't believe it. So nice.
After that, we met the other lecteurs on Thirsty Street for a bevvie and then I went home and to bed.
I'm not sure what I'll do today. I might get a bike and do the epic ride I wanted to do Sunday. I have no administrative things to do, and I start work tomorrow. With Cynthia gone, I look forward to a day by myself. But with two other lecteurs in my building, eager to hang, I might see them a bit, too. I don't know yet.
I would just like to say how much I love being Canadian. I really do. Most people guess I'm American. I always say, "NON!" really loudly, as if I'm offended (I'm not) and then, with a big smile, "Je suis canadienne!" They always laugh and become much more at ease.. They love Canadians. Everyone knows someone who moved to Canada and never came back, which I guess is proof that it's good. They also think I'm brave for handling the winters there since it never snows here. More than a couple of people have said that my parents must be nice people. They are, but weird comment! They also know that most of Canada is English-speaking, so they like that I embrace the Quebec side of Canada. And Toronto is a famous city, so they like to ask about the big buildings there. Basically, by saying, "Je suis canadienne," I win a free smile, conversation, and immediate respect. Plus, a difference in saying it in French than in English, is that in one short sentence I include both my nationality and my gender. So really there's no confusion anywhere. I see the difference it makes being Canadian when I'm with Cynthia. They ask her which state, she says Texas, they call her a cowboy (this has happened almost every time), all parties laugh, and then they just want to talk about Canada. It makes me really proud. I wouldn't trade it for anything.
With Canadianne pride,
Hincks.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Chapter 11: Facts and Fun
calculators1000 post #11
Yesterday was another good day. Went to the university and explored it with NO. Her real name is Cynthia. (Due to growing Canadian concern, I will no longer post about B or R unless it's all very nice.) So yes, we explored, and then went for a long walk downtown and she met Osson (who spells it Hossoen) and Pascal. Then we went to the grocery store and bought ingredients for a delicious dindin. We had cheese and shrimp on baguette, with wine. Very nice. Super cheap. Thanks, France.
After dins, we went toThirsty Street and met up with the other two lecteurs, and a new one who is from Spain and is a lecteur in the Spanish department. She was really nice, and doesn't speak English, so we all spoke French. I hope she continues to hang with us, because it's better for the French. All of the pubs there are really cool - old and interesting. This one was called 1929, and had all stone interior and dates back hundreds of years. It was cool.
Today I have a busy day. I'm going to the train station to pick up another lecteur from the States who will move into the slum motel for the month as well. Then I meet a Frenchman named Pierre-Antoine for a coffee date at 2pm. Dinner will be with Cynthia and her soon-to-be-married rooommate to discuss the apartment and the possibility of me moving in. Tonight, all the lecteurs will finally be here, so we'll all get together. There's an Italian one, too, our only guy, and he'll come too.
And now, some fun facts:
1. A bouncer is called 'un videur' which kind of means an emptier! I thought that was a bit funny.
2. Saint-Malo, the town I want to visit, is the one Jacques Cartier set off from to discover our beautiful Canada.
3. Everytime I see an exit sign, I want to take spray paint and change it to "Sorbie." Yes, I think of her every time I leave a place. Sortie and Sorbie are so close..
4. The comic book Asterix and Obelix is set here in Brittany!
5. The legend of King Arthur is supposedly set in a forest right close to Rennes, and tourists like to visit it.
6. re: Brittany:
Brittany was the last province (or region, here) to join France, and it has a Quebec-like pride in its uniqueness. They also have their own language - Bretonne - which is still spoken in more rural areas, and certain words are used everyday here in Rennes. "Cheers" for example, isn't "sante" here, but a Bretonne word (that I've forgotten..) and there are others. Bretonne is not a dying language, but actually a growing one, as the youth are trying to revitalize it to preserve Brittany's history. It's a popular major at the university. Brittany only joined France 200 years ago. Before that, it was ruled by a duchess. In fear of having Brittany taken over by force by the French king, she married him to preserve the culture. She apparently hated him, but did it as a sacrifice for Brittany, and is therefore a heroine..
7. The two rivers that pass through Rennes are called Ille and Vilaine. Brittany is split into departments (sort of like counties) and the one Rennes is in is called L'Ille et Vilaine, named after the two rivers.
8. Rennes is the capital of Brittany, and is a very big city, by French standards. It's population is mainly made up of people from Brittany, as opposed to peeps from the rest of France. The 60,000 university students are mostly from the province, too. They go home on week-ends. Rennes is the smallest city in the world to have a subway.
No more facts for today.
Love to Canada.
Hincks.
Yesterday was another good day. Went to the university and explored it with NO. Her real name is Cynthia. (Due to growing Canadian concern, I will no longer post about B or R unless it's all very nice.) So yes, we explored, and then went for a long walk downtown and she met Osson (who spells it Hossoen) and Pascal. Then we went to the grocery store and bought ingredients for a delicious dindin. We had cheese and shrimp on baguette, with wine. Very nice. Super cheap. Thanks, France.
After dins, we went toThirsty Street and met up with the other two lecteurs, and a new one who is from Spain and is a lecteur in the Spanish department. She was really nice, and doesn't speak English, so we all spoke French. I hope she continues to hang with us, because it's better for the French. All of the pubs there are really cool - old and interesting. This one was called 1929, and had all stone interior and dates back hundreds of years. It was cool.
Today I have a busy day. I'm going to the train station to pick up another lecteur from the States who will move into the slum motel for the month as well. Then I meet a Frenchman named Pierre-Antoine for a coffee date at 2pm. Dinner will be with Cynthia and her soon-to-be-married rooommate to discuss the apartment and the possibility of me moving in. Tonight, all the lecteurs will finally be here, so we'll all get together. There's an Italian one, too, our only guy, and he'll come too.
And now, some fun facts:
1. A bouncer is called 'un videur' which kind of means an emptier! I thought that was a bit funny.
2. Saint-Malo, the town I want to visit, is the one Jacques Cartier set off from to discover our beautiful Canada.
3. Everytime I see an exit sign, I want to take spray paint and change it to "Sorbie." Yes, I think of her every time I leave a place. Sortie and Sorbie are so close..
4. The comic book Asterix and Obelix is set here in Brittany!
5. The legend of King Arthur is supposedly set in a forest right close to Rennes, and tourists like to visit it.
6. re: Brittany:
Brittany was the last province (or region, here) to join France, and it has a Quebec-like pride in its uniqueness. They also have their own language - Bretonne - which is still spoken in more rural areas, and certain words are used everyday here in Rennes. "Cheers" for example, isn't "sante" here, but a Bretonne word (that I've forgotten..) and there are others. Bretonne is not a dying language, but actually a growing one, as the youth are trying to revitalize it to preserve Brittany's history. It's a popular major at the university. Brittany only joined France 200 years ago. Before that, it was ruled by a duchess. In fear of having Brittany taken over by force by the French king, she married him to preserve the culture. She apparently hated him, but did it as a sacrifice for Brittany, and is therefore a heroine..
7. The two rivers that pass through Rennes are called Ille and Vilaine. Brittany is split into departments (sort of like counties) and the one Rennes is in is called L'Ille et Vilaine, named after the two rivers.
8. Rennes is the capital of Brittany, and is a very big city, by French standards. It's population is mainly made up of people from Brittany, as opposed to peeps from the rest of France. The 60,000 university students are mostly from the province, too. They go home on week-ends. Rennes is the smallest city in the world to have a subway.
No more facts for today.
Love to Canada.
Hincks.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)