Much ado, much ado - not a lot of time to blog! Good sign. Though its a lot of busy work, schmoozing, maintaining the Lyon hub.
My excellent teacher-friend Agnes called today to tell me that i can see the alpes "On peut voir les alpes!" from my school b/c she's cool like that. Seriously, she is cool. I was on the bus when I got her call - which means a rooster starts crowing from my purse. But I'm standing in the middle of this accordion long-bus thing...it was like being on a really not fun carnival ride - me and the old french lady were like, j'ai peur! = I'm scared! and I really could just not answer, as I was trying to balance I giant Tower Grove Market bag (that I bought from a guy who knew Mr. McCallie! Points to him/the market) full of wine and little bacon flavored cheetos that you're supposed to have before dinner if you're french for "l'aperatif." Anyway, I got to school after there were millions of scary, debatably sanitary - but full of potential nonetheless... ganas! I channel my inner Jaime Escalante, always - schoolchildren running in and out of the bus (I wouldn't be suprised if some were underneath it) and there they were - ALPES! V. exciting for this lady. So I texted Agnes, "j'ai vu les ALPES - HOURRAH" minus any exclamation point, not because I wasn't exclaiming, but because my phone doesn't have exclamation point capability. Its cool though. Guess where I learned "hourrah"??
Bridget Jones in french of course! I'm pausing on Bridge for a bit though to finish The Rise of the Creative Class by Richard Florida. I'm particularly inspired to read this book b/c france's educational system is so contrary to this book, whose concepts sing a lovely song of love to my heart and mind pretty much. Anyway, the Australian teacher here who teaches english agrees. He was like, yeah, I went to school for engineering, was a banker, then I went to get a degree in music, did composition at a school in paris, taught music there and now I'm an english teacher. I was like, hold on - I need a minutem b/c you are too cool for me to absorb all at once, mate! French kids can check out to secretary school at like 13 years old and there's no turning back -- that's the thing dudes. So if you're struggling with your useless degree - at least you could actually get to do whatever it is (outside of atomic physics/brain surgery, yuk yuk yuk) you want to do if you just like, get an internship.
Oh the french school system. A place for everything and everything in its place. Is that good? Don't fence me in - that's what I say.
So I've been talking about organic/free-trade farming vs. whatever else there is. I actually brought up the phrase "happy chickens" today in class. I like to imagine that these children are benefitting from my quirky-urban-farmgirl-mississippi-river-east-coast-intellectual-pom-pon perspective (and that maybe they can learn that it is possible to live in many dimensions?)...but the teacher said they were hungover and they are after all, in something like DeVry over france. Not to hate, but I am keeping it real for now. These kids (the post BAC kids at least -- meaning they've graduated and are technical training kids) have checked OUT - or france did the checking out for them? I think even the kids still in high school don't even have like, AP-takin' kids to look up to/hate/compare themselves to/talk about behind their backs.
On the one hand, if you are a genius magoo, you get to go to private-school level school for free I think, but if you take one year to slack off, suddenly you're on a track to become a lab technician the rest of your life. Not that that's not good. And you DEF cannot get a CompLit degree and then go into cool branding/Marketing like I wanna do. Oh it shocks them, my interdisciplenariness. I hope they think it is VERY american.
Speaking of americannness my friend Becky and I are in the beginning stages of shooting a mocumentary here in lyon. Its going to be funnyyyy, and if we are fo-real, it might just get entered in Cannes. I'm going to attempt to write it, but unfortunately for me I was not involved with SCTV, much less Eugene Levy - like Christopher Guest - so I'm a little behind. And I'm not thinking its going ot be improved, though we did meet a totally flaming french dude who's a member of an acting troupe. Do you do improvised satire, french actors? Rather not take a chance. We'll see.
I'm posting comments to my flickr pictures, get excited! I see the pictures, they are lovely and then I see all the graffiti - there's waaaaaaay more, and uglier than in that picture -- rowr...I will remember to take a photo of the graffiti that I think says, "The vikings vacation in the winter." b/c even I can appreciate the absurdity of its pretty cursive silly message.
I gotta attempt to find something to love in merit-less graffiti that has no street value whatsoever. I'd rather it were easier, like if graffiti were legit. This is a city of murals, hellooo! Someone needs to get Lyon a tag-wall, and some proper manners, stat. Even the riverside's tagging is in no way artful (not counting the vikings). And it would be COOL if it were like St. Louis' tag wall, that I think got shut down, but whatever! (wish I could find some better pictures of it - its cool! represent. )
Anyway, after our aperatif tonight, Me and the ladies (pictures coming of all the ladies, soon) will be going to "Le Fish" - which is some dance boat free for ladies before 11. Yeah, we'll just see!
Did I mention I hung out w 17 year old bakers (boulangers, and they were proud) last tuesday or so? And that soem guy grabbed my mexican friend - she is so awesomely firey...why not meeee? -- and she told him something bad about his mother in spanish and then my other friend screamed somethign totally scary and german while I just drifted into the background, west-philly street-smarts style. That boy was up to no good, for sure.
Anyway, french people distracted drunk grabber man by saying, "what is this!?" a lot and then DGM peed in some doorway and peaced out, but not without a bit of yelling.
It was exciting, and luckily I had trained the girls with meredith's lifeguard training to call for help specifically - "hey yellow shirt!help!" to avoid sad, altrusiticless crowd mentality.
Anyway, said bar where we met was called "WALLACE" (where they have a lot of whisky - anyone feel like researching just what the heck kind of whiskey is in a Senator? Which senaor, you ask? well, its not a joke. not really...hehehe. Though now that I'm thinking of it, i wonde what kind of whiskey can be found in what senator's well-fed belly? Hm. Tabletop book anyone?) I always think this bar is called, "WHISKEY" and that's probably just b/c I'm a tough broad and the like. Anyway, there's a pub crawl going on there on monday, and my friends from "La Martin" are all gonna go - though only a few dare to buy the 7 drinks it takes to get a t-shirt, and yes I am one who dares. That could be my indian name. One-who-dares. My buddy EbConn back in school (all of a year ago) nicknames me "girl who leans" -- as a result of a comedienne who said everyone their first week of college gets an indian name.
Its true, think about it.
I'm going to get that tshirt. Yes, yes I am. Even if my friends have to swear in multiple languages to get it for my 7-drink "plein comme un oeuf" (means "stewed to the eyeballs" which means, drunk) self.
Ok, this was really only meant to be a "hey, I'm commenting on my pictures" announcement! But like so many things, its turned into something else entirely.
I'm going to start reading "A year in the Merde" - if you'd like to join my book-club, I'm starting it soon! We can discuss the book, and then you can all tell me how much I am/am not like Oprah.
Peace.
p.s. I'm going to Barcelona with Emilie at the end of this month, yay!
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