OFII oopsies

         I am officially legal in France! I passed vers le medecin this morning in Annecy at the OFII office. It started snowing while I was on the train. Not ideal for my bizarre, full-length North Face coat paired with black flats situation. I got there early and indulged in several mini chocolate croissants (which obviously don't count as one normal size chocolate croissant) and coffee. My ridiculous shoewear trapped me inside the mall all day as I waited for my appointments. I didn't think going to a medical visit with hypothermic toes was prudent.
         In any case, OFII stands for Office Français de l'Immigration et de l'Intégration. Visas come from the French Embassy, but long term stays are regulated by the OFII. They process students to au pairs to asylum seekers. Everyone coming to France for more than three months, and who is not an EU citizen, is required to get medical approval for their long term stay. I wouldn't have been allowed to leave the Schengen Zone for Christmas break had I not had my appointment...
        My appointment was at 2:30. I'd been in Annecy since 8:30 because I had to get pulmonary x-rays done first. The train back to the 'ville was at 3:30, and if I missed it, I'd have to wait until 5:30. I went to my appointment 45 minutes early to see if I'd be able to get out in time. The receptionist was very sweet and said she'd try. This unfortunately meant that I cut several people in line, which I apologized profusely for. The doctor taught me all the French names for the standard examinations he was doing. I had an interesting chat with the immigration officer about asylum seekers and immigrants in France. I came out of the appointment to find a hysterical girl crying because she now couldn't go home for Christmas. Apparently she was a Canadian au pair and she'd forgetton her passport, missed her appointment, and now had to rush to pick up the kids from school. I helped her translate her situation to the receptionist, which seemed nice and turned out to be a horrible idea. The receptionist and immigration officials got so mad, explaining that she had missed her appointment and they cannot make exceptions. Except I was standing there, translating, and I had had my own appointment moved. Unfortunately, they realized this and redirected their frustration at me. Didn't I have a train to catch, they demanded? Yes, I did, but since they kindly pushed me through, I had time to help translate before I had to catch my train. This brought further grumbling so I scurried out, guiltily. Le oops.
         In other self-absorbed news, I am not quite certain whether the doctor was making a joke about me having scoliosis or whether I do actually have it. That probably would have been a good thing to confirm. However, another French doctor casually told someone that they have heart problems... When I don't know a French word, I often say the English word in a French accent. This rarely works but it did work with "hypochondriac" the other day...in any case my Kaiser appointment at home is officially booked!

Tricked by a Ten Year Old

          Although I can "can a can as canner can can a can", I can also get fooled by a ten year old. Today, a student asked me if I could count to ten. Obviously, I was offended that she thought I couldn't count in French. To be fair, I probably mispronounce even my numbers. I started counting, trying to sound as French as possible. She said I failed. I didn't start with zero.
          Also, warning parents: I had the students dictate their telephone numbers to one another to practice numbers. I did the example with the teacher and gave my own house number. I immediately realized that may not have been smart, so I quickly erased a 9 and wrote an 8. The entire class immediately got out pieces of paper and pens and wrote down the number. Then they asked if they could call. I told them it was expensive. Thirty nine year olds are apparently planning on using all their piggy bank money to prank call California. I pity whoever's phone number is one 8 off out of my house phone.

Turkeytime

          Ten tricky two-toed turkeys trotted on the table...now say that five times fast! This was our warm-up tongue twister for the day. Every time I teach, I'm amazed by the number of little things I don't anticipate. I thought this was just a funny tongue twister, but it led to a discussion of how turkeys walk and how many toes they have, if any. We talked about Thanksgiving today. The students wanted to know how many people were on the Mayflower, how turkey tasted different from chicken, why Americans ate all day long, why it was on a Thursday, why pumpkin pie was first (it wasn't, I misarranged my flashcards and so they are now convinced Americans eat dessert before dinner), why the Englishpeople left England ("for religious reasons like persecution" didn't suffice for them), why the ship was called the Mayflower, what sort of things did they do with the first people, and many, many other questions. The only answer that satisfied them was that we say "first people" or "Native Americans" and not "Indians", but only because they found that so obvious. Silly Americans.
           In other classroom news, today a student, cutting the feathers for her turkey, lamented "Oh my God." In perfect English, with a roll of the eyes. I burst out laughing and, of course, the entire class repeated it. Not sure how that comports with the religion ban in the classroom but it was absolutely hilarious.
            In the next class, again, cutting feathers out, a girl asked me for help. Her seatmate shook his head and told her "You aren't the queen of the classroom. Don't you think she [me] has other people to help? Do it yourself. Is cutting a piece of paper that hard?" He had, by this point, cut off one of his feathers and I was in the midst of giving him another sheet of paper. She responded, "Be quiet [nice of her not to say shut up, wasn't it?]. You're not the king of Saudi Arabia. I want my feathers to be perfect." First of all, I am glad to be acknowledged as an expert with safety scissors. Secondly, the conversation proceeded into a fight about who was older and therefore could be king or queen. I accidentally cut off her feathers, too, in eavesdropping.

Hitting All the Wrong Notes

           Kat and I had a busy week. We started off with choir on Monday night...or rather, she had choir, and I had a prime standing spot in the back of the soprano group where I learned how to say lip sync in French (le playback). She has a solo and she is fantastic! I tried to reposition myself so as to be associated with her melodious voice, but got the raised eyebrow sending me scurrying back to the very back.
            On Tuesday, I had JumpFit. My jump rope abilities are marginally improving, thanks to the very direct advice from the 8 year olds I've been practicing with at recess. The music the instructor plays is great - I recommended 8tracks.com to him and I hear he's been using it!
            Wednesday has turned into movie night. This week, we watched "Les Intouchables" or, "The Untouchables". It gets all the rotten tomatoes. Truly superb film. It's touching without being sappy and has a dynamic plot line. Watch it in French with subtitles!
            Kat and I attended a talk on the state of the economy in France, with a particular focus on the debt crisis. I'll blissfully pretend I could coherently explain the lecturers' thesis...
            Friday, we went to a big ole French bar in the mountains with Kat's teacher and her work colleagues. An eighties cover band was playing and I loved it.
            Encouraged by my attempts at singing on Friday, I went to our choir's concert on Saturday. Kat had a solo and I thought I would attend, post it in the back as usual, and sing softly. I went to get my sash when the choir directly worriedly asked me if I was planning to sing. I explained my plan. She grimaced. I joked that I could just do "playback" and she didn't laugh. I got out my camera and said I'd just take pictures. And then she smiled. I clearly looked like a choir reject, too, because I matched them in all black. I am not taking their hints nor getting discouraged...it's back to choir on Monday! The town hall was hosting the show and it was an arts, crafts, and music affair. Complete with regional champagne and cheese platters. We went to a cute resto in Bonneville afterwards and then watched "Les Petits Mouchoirs" - another great film. It's so helpful to have subtitles because I find myself learning new vocabulary and figuring out proper pronunciation.

Chamoni(x)

          Kat, Laura, et moi popped off to Chamonix this week. Having a world-renowned ski resort a mere 45 minute train away is quite the life. Chamonix looks like the Olympic Village at Squaw but a truly posh version of it. Example: there is a Chanel boutique. My photos turned out horribly so here is a stolen one:

Chamoni(x)

         When we arrived at the hostel, we had one of those semi-awkward, owner is clearly British, but we are in France so do we speak French or English conversations...which ended up being in everyone's favorite Franglish. Chamonix is clearly the most international of endroits we've toured thus far. All the waiters spoke English and I think I heard more English than French. Makes me grateful we usually get to practice so much French!
          We spend the afternoon meandering. One of my teachers came up to meet us and we had drinks with her - love speaking French with someone who is bilingual. I bombarded the poor girl with "Can I say this...does that make sense...how do I pronounce" - she merited her mulled wine! Can't wait to come back and ski!
          Parentheses explanation: In Haute-Savoie, if you are chic, you don't pronounce the "x" in Chamonix. You'd say "cham-on-ee" while Parisians would say "cham-on-eeks". Remember that when you come visit me on a fabulous ski holiday.

I thought London Bridge was Falling Down

           I'll start with explaining my corny title. As I have oft-lamented, I am terrified of heights. In London, I decided I would try for the umpteenth fois to master heights. By crossing the Millennium Bridge by myself. I started off confidently. But when I made a wheelchair swerve because I refused to budge from my straight path along the stones and narrowly avoided knocking a child's camera off the edge and into the sparking clean Thames (sarcasm aside, the number of trash barges collecting waste in the river is incredible!), I decided to stop feigning bravery. In order to avoid fatalities, I am going to maintain my no-more-than-two-feet-above-ground stance.
           Anywoo, I was in London! I invited myself to stay with Sarah (college best friend who has admitted numerous times that she does not read my blog) for a week!
           Highlights included seeing the Christmas windows at Harrods, afternoon tea at the Wolseley, ambling around Notting Hill, the Tate Modern, the National Portrait Gallery, and drinks with Sarah's work friends!

Christmas windows at Harrods!

Notting Hill

           We attempted to stalk the Made in Chelsea stars at Bluebird. I almost gave myself whiplash every time I thought I spotted one of the stars. If you don't know what Made in Chelsea is, please don't look it up because you'll judge me. Suffice it to say that it is a British TV programme about young, wealthy socialites in London (but if you love shows like this, tell me and we can gossip about it!).
           We also saw Argo, the new Ben Affleck movie. Although I felt terribly culturally uniformed throughout the film, it was excellent. Its plotline progresses swiftly and it was truly exhilarating to watch. On a lighter (not calorie-wise) note, British theaters have both sweet and salty popcorn. Sarah ordered us a large bag, salty on top, sweet on bottom - clearly she goes to movies a lot.
          London was fabulously fun!

Lisburn and Lavery's

         Belfast today! Laura's grandma lives just outside Belfast, in Lisburn. We drove an hour-ish to her house, picking up Laura's uni friends along the way. Laura and her friends gave me a tour of Belfast. Queen's University is gorgeous. It's funny how we often forget the beauty and charm of a place when its part of our quotidian life. The girls were surprised at how lovely I found Belfast but as a tourist, Queen's campus and the city of Belfast are much easier to aesthetically appreciate. Belfast struck me as an approachable city. It's bustling but walkable. Cafes and shops line the cobblestone streets. Lovely place to spend the afternoon!
         We went to a popular Queen's favorite, Lavery's, at night. We ran into all the girls' friends from university and had a great time.
          It's been wonderful relaxing at Laura's house and I'll miss the homecooking and Irish banter with her parents but I'm excited for London tomorrow!

The Craic in Northern Ireland

          Hellos from Limavady, Northern Ireland! Here's the craic: I'm visiting Laura's family here for the week. Her parents are absolutely lovely. They've been giving me history lessons - both ancient and modern. It's a treat being somewhere old enough to have ancient and modern history. The Irish countryside is just as picturesque as I thought: quaint, brick and stone homes nestled amidst rolling, green hills.

Green, green, green from the grass to the gables.

           In Ireland, Halloween is celebrated with parades and fireworks. Limavady is close to Derry, so we headed to its 13th century walls and the brand new Peace Bridge to watch. Derry is a City of Culture for 2013 (along with San Francisco!) so I'm feeling ahead of the times on this visit. 

'Twas quite chilly but here's Laura, her friend Laura, Laura's mum and dad, and me on Halloween in Derry! We were not dressed up. Although I was pretending to be Irish.

          I feel quite at home here. Mostly because the immigration officers looked at my customs form and said, "Welcome to Ireland, Mairead." I was so shocked to hear my name pronounced properly I'm pretty sure I said "Merci" in response. And then I met Laura's parents. And we met neighbors and townspeople and Laura's friends. And everyone knows how to say my name. No "it rhymes with parade", no "don't worry, I know it's hard to pronounce", no "you can just call me Margaret", no "actually my parents didn't make up my name, it's Gaelic." Just "Mairead."

          And I've converted...into a tea-aholic, that is. English breakfast tea, to be precise. For years, I've snubbed my nose at the flavorless, watery concoction I thought to be tea. 

          Cate, as if I'm not inhaling traditional Irish shepherd's pies, and non-traditional, but equally delicious, curries, I've been nibbling on Irish cheddar. It's much better here.