A whole nother language

I did some typing today at the internship. Typing, and lots of squinting at French handwriting. Handwriting seems to be more important to people here: getting the contract for my internship ready to be faxed to the university, the director yelled for someone with good handwriting to do a cover page. Guillène the secretary wrote it, with lots of flourishes. Handwriting, then, but also writing by hand. I guess I was a little surprised when there wasn't a computer at every desk here, and lots of things seem to get written up by hand before they are typed--like the "bilan" I typed up today.

I'm not quite sure what a "bilan" is. Maybe a summary. Or a survey. Walking around today, I saw an ad for a free "bilan" of you body (trying to sell some weight loss product). Another kind of mysterious word here is "stage." I am on a stage--an internship--but francophones seem to be on stages all the time. The word seems to apply to internships, but also to in-service training, to conferences, to workshops, to traffic school--so when I tell someone I'm here for a stage (thinking I'm saying "internship") it really isn't that specific at all. They all ask, what kind of stage? Trying to figure out what exactly "stage" meant, I actually thought, "it's like a whole different language!" Well.... I guess it isn't just a language, but a culture you have to translate. Soon after I arrived in Switzerland, someone asked me how you said "bon appétit" in English. Someone with me said you didn't really say it in English, but I said, no, you say "bon appétit." But the other person was right--here, as in Switzerland, you don't eat until someone wishes you bon appétit.

Also in Switzerland, I bought some shoes. Some black leather shoes, to go with the gray pants I brought. They are leather, but I declined the water proofing that I was offered at the store. "They won't really get wet," I told myself.

Right.

Je préfère la Suisse.

I went to Paris yesterday.

Monday was sort of a holiday in France. The schools were out, but the post offices were in. The city buses were running, but the town-to-town buses were not--which meant I couldn't get to my internship. I called in to the office, and the director said, well, see you tomorrow. So I went to Paris.

And I didn't really like Paris. I feel terrible for admitting this--it's Paris after all. Maybe I just caught Paris on a bad day. It started in Rouen, though, at the train station, where some guy sat down next to me and told me I was very pretty, and would like to know my name and get my number and buy me a drink. I tried "Je ne parle le français" with the worst accent I could offer, but he just switched to English. I can't really do very good apologies in French, nor nice thank-you's, and rejections fall into the same category: "That's very kind; no." This was when I moved my ring to my left hand.

I ended up sitting next to someone else on the train. A sailor who works on the Seine. He warned me about bag-snatchers in Paris and told me he thought Alabama was the state with the largest racial tension. He said he didn't think France was ready for a woman to be president and told me what Roosevelt did to ease the Great Depression. He got off two stops before Paris.

It rained a lot once I got there. I walked around for awhile trying to find a place to eat, and got overcharged with what I finally settled on. This made me really mad. I'm still kind of mad.

So, I walked around for a bit. I got a crepe. It was underdone. I went to the Musée d'Orsay. It was closed. It rained some more. It was certainly an adventure, at least. They're always adventures, things like this.

WeeFee

Some of the words I have had the hardest time with in French are the ones that have North American origins. PowerPoint, for example, "PowerPoint" in French, is a particularly difficult word to pronounce. Similar dificulties are presented by proper nouns such as "Johnny Depp" (which I didn't realize were so globally ubiquitous). WiFi, "WiFi" in French, also offered confustion at the beginning, although I nailed "Granny Smith" on the first try.

Whether you say it wy-fy or wee-fee, however, the important thing is that I'm all hooked up.

This weekend, Weston, another student from my university in France for an internship, and I did some sightseeing together in Rouen:

I got stuck in the old stuff at the Musée des Beaux Arts--which never happens to me in art museums. I can usually get through the period pretty quickly. But I was so struck by the pristine samples they have at the museum--and by how the theme of the art of this era is consistently Christ and those around him. Being in Europe, visiting cathedrals, seeing artwork like this makes me realize that the reach of what and where and who Christ has touched is so much bigger than Utah and the things I know--which makes that reach and Christ's love all the more astounding. And genuine.

Later, we visited the Musée Jeanne d'Arc, where we appreciated the dying art of dioramas.

Lame

Okay, so I personally think that blogs without pictures are pretty lame. Sorry. And this is a short one, too--but that just means it's a consumable size.

One thing that has amazed me about France is how (especially if I keep my mouth shut) people think I'm French. This is extraordinary, because I have my own American image of the French being very fasionable (and being able to spell?), romantic, and so on, and so on. So when someone at MJC Duclair, after explaining the programs she directs, said, wait, you're American? I was blown away. I was again when I was walking around and someone handed me a political flyer and told me why I should vote for their candidate. But then I guess in the US, walking around being American is pretty normal, actually, so why wouldn't it be just-plain-vanilla to be French in France?

And back to the keeping-my-mouth-shut thing. Some days people tell me I barely have an accent, and others, I ask for something at a store and they have no idea what I'm saying. And people don't realize how my language is limited until I start trying to use it--which isn't incentive to use it. I finally realized, though, that I wouldn't get any better at speaking French if I didn't ever speak it while I'm here.

A First

My first impression of France was that it had a serious case of seventies architecture. When I got picked up from the airport on Monday and we got on our way, I finally just stopped looking out the window—at sound walls and awful buildings—and started reading my book. Things got much better, though, once we got out of the city (and its congestion). Even though sparkling water isn’t a thing here, and even though I don’t have an internet connection in my room, I’m starting to like France.

I wasn’t really sure where we were going after I got picked up from the airport—I didn’t know if, or where, Alliance Française had found me a host family. It turns out they did, though—a family in Rouen. Noriko sleeps in the bedroom down from mine. She is here learning French with the Alliance Française so she can go to a baking school in Rouen. She is from Japan, where, she explained to me, you eat rice, not bread. But bread has charmed her, and she is here to follow her dream.

And I am here to follow my own, I guess—speaking French. We have both been displaced, then, because home can do a lot of things, but it can’t teach Noriko how to bake world-class bread, and it can’t teach me how to speak French.

Tuesday I got driven to Duclair (a town of 4,000 about a half hour from Rouen) and introduced to the people at the office of the MJC, where I will be doing my internship. And then for the next two days I hung out with a group of Ukrainian kids who are here to perform in Duclair’s theater festival. After a day and a half of hanging around and waiting for stuff, I realized where I was:

and I savored the irony of how I came to France for an internship because I didn’t want to go anywhere near a tour bus while I was in Europe.

During the last few days, I have also wandered around Rouen. There is plenty to see, and so far I’ve been to l’Église Sainte Jeanne d’Arc and the surrounding square full of half-timbered houses and chic shops and the Cathedral de Rouen, and a museum dedicated to works in iron that is housed in an old church. The old and the new all end up together here—because I guess, no matter what, everything has to end up in the present. Please enjoy this fine example of palimpsest:

According to Christine Rolland, the half-timber with x's date in the fifteenth century. Beyond, are buildings from the eighteenth or ninteenth century, and in the background, you can see the ninteenth-century steeple of the tenth-century Cathedral of Rouen. To the left, the church of Saint Joan of Arc, which was completed in 1979, and in the foreground, chairs and tables that are used every day and stored in the ruins of...a really old church.

Every morning I wake up and I think, so, I’m in France. That’s cool. There is lots of French here. And lots of really old stuff to see. And I guess it’s all part of it—even hanging out on the Ukrainian’s tour bus.

A Last

Last day in Geneva (hopefully not for forever). It rained today, but I went out anyway to find a little more cash to get me to the airport and to deposit my old shoes in a clothes-donation box downtown. I took one last walk along the Rhone, where I took these pictures. Like I mentioned before, there is lots of grafitti along here, and I was rather partial to the mural in the photo.

I had lunch with Simone, and am now gathering up the last things to pack. I hope it all fits.

Today, Monica and I went to the highest point in Geneva. You see France beyond.

You can see France from pretty much anywhere here, but it doesn't stop amazing me--oh yes, that hill over there, that's a different country. You know, here is neutral territory and hasn't been touched for hundreds of years, but over there, all sorts of nasty things happened like a Nazi occupation. Yes, and they sing a different national song and have a different flag. They have a whole different culture, different heritage and government and history. It's just another country. No big deal.

Today was really lovely again. I went to church this morning, where I met an American who is currently living in Taiwan where she was born so she can connect with her heritage. She works for a newspaper there and is in Geneva for a conference. Some of the Relief Society sisters came and talked to me as well and had remembered me from the week before. I wish I wasn't as shy and that I could more easily connect with these people, wherever I find them.

The Real Reason I Came to Geneva

Geneva is home not just to the world's tallest fountain, the Jet d'Eau, but also to the world's longest bench, which does not have a name as far as I know. I saw both today. I believe I am a more complete person for it.

I spent the whole day in the city today. It was warm and sunny and beautiful. In the morning I walked around the Old Town and saw the Tavel House, the oldest house in Geneva that has been transformed into a museum. I met up with Dyvia in the afternoon and we had lunch together and talked about diplomacy (not so much policy as skills). I walked around by the lake and through the Botanical Garden, which was absoulutely beautiful. A warm, sunny day makes for a perfect evening.

My House

This is not Switzerland.

However, through the wonders of modern technology, I get to see what is happening at home. I have provided, for your viewing pleasure, pictures of the home I left and pictures of what my home has become.

Things are wrapping up in Switzerland. Yesterday, I went to a watch museum downtown. I went on my own, which meant it took me a long time to find it. I like it when I have other people to navigate for me. I also spent about five minutes in a museum of modern art. Very modern art. I was the only person there, besides the guard who was sitting eating a sandwitch. The whole combination--silent images projected onto big screens, dark rooms, strange smell, some guy sitting in the dark watching me--meant the overall effect was: creepy. I left.

I turned down the chance to go to an elementary school language fair (I think) this morning and I've been working on the paper. Not the most exciting thing ever, but I've been a little overwhelmed lately with being in unfamiliar situations, with strangers, in a foreign language. It is enlarging and enlightening, and I am glad I am here outside of the familiar, but it is fatiguing.

I Hate French Tonight

Good heavens, what's the point of learning another language? It's really tiring to listen to other people speak it and it's really tiring for other people to try to understand me speak it.

Tonight, Dyvia cooked Indian food and invited two of the neighbors to come eat with us. Dyvia is studying French but won't speak it generally, so a lot of the conversation was in English (in addition to French and German). We sat around and talked for a long time after dinner, this almost entirely in English. I love having a native language. It feels good to be able to use all the words I want to use and to be able to say what I want to say. Dyvia talked about the caste system in India (lower castes and "Other Backward Castes" currently receive monitary and other benefits from the government--affirmative action) and the discussion turned to religious beliefs.

We ended up going around the table, and each person told their view of who God is or if there is a God--their view on the force greater than ourselves. Dyvia said within the last couple of years she started believing there was a God when she started praying for little things and they would happen. Madame La Voisine said she believed there was something greather than us, though she didn't believe there was a God. I told how I believe there is a God, and he has a body, and he created us, and we are here to learn and to become better. Monica said she didn't believe there was a God, but believed in the Buddhist idea of eventually being able to thing of the world and other people not in terms of yourself and others, but in terms of everything being part of one universe--so no us and them, no you and me, just one (I liked this--and I've certainly been taught that we are all equal). Emmanuel said there is definately a higher force, but it doesn't matter what you call it--Jehova, or God, or Shiva.

The pictures: Geneva street art, The University of Geneva, and Lake Neuchatel. I went and talked to a councilor at the University of Geneva today about a master's program, and then Monica and I went to a really long meeting (the word in French for "meeting" in this case being "séance," which I found somewhat ironic) in Neuchatel about how the different cantons are implementing the European Language Portfolio. On the train back I tried to interview a teacher who uses the ELP. It was all a lot of French. Getting to use English tonight made me feel better.

You're the kind of girl that fits into my world

I didn't take any pictures today, though I did observe a French as a second language class and an English class. I talked to the French teacher about Silent Way methodology and misspelled "femme" in front of the class. I talked to the English teacher about autonomous learning and learned how to conjugate "have got" (as in, "I've got a bike, you can ride it if you like it's got a basket, a bell that rings and things to make it look good." Their English texts are based on British English).

I spent the afternoon working on actual evidence of this adventure (hence the picture), and I went to the little zoo in the park with Simone.

There are pictures I wish I could post, but that I never took. I wish I could post a picture of walking along the river yesterday, and one of the elementary school I visited today. The school looked like it was designed by Ikea. But I didn't have my camera.

Yesterday I went to church. It was a beautiful morning, and it was lovely making my way there and back. It felt good to be there--church meetings are something very familiar, even in other languages. I was suprised to find that a good fraction of the ward is composed of Spanish speakers. Hearing Spanish also made things feel more familiar!

After church and some lunch with Dyvia (I finally found out the correct way to write her name) and some reading, I went on a nice long walk. It was still a wonderful day. I ended up down by the river (which, I discovered looking at a map today, is the Rhone). Geneva doesn't seem to even try to erase graffiti, and so I saw some pretty impresive street art, too.

This morning I ended up talking to the Spanish-speaking house keeper for a long time before going off to observe a French as a second language class and visiting the elementary school. It was just recently built, and it is amazing--a glass cube, with colorful shades pulled down behind the windows. Inside, the desks and chairs are light-colored wood and everything was airy and bright--really, think Ikea. The students take their shoes off and put on slippers before entering the classroom.

This afternoon, I went shopping downtown with Simone. I bought a pair of sunglasses--at Claire's.

Geneva (finally)

I've been in Geneva for almost a week now, and today I finally went downtown. Divya, a young woman from India who is also staying with Monica, went with me downtown this afternoon, and gave me a lovely walking tour. We went through the Old Town, where the church of the photo is (I climbed the tower and Divya waited for me at the bottom), and stopped at one of Geneva's famous coffee shops (where the hot chocolate was lovely). Each drink was served with a square of chocolate. An old woman sitting next to us gave hers to us.

We also walked around the buildings of the UN (the second photo is around here) and the botanical garden that is also right there. The Russian mission was having a party. They were blasting techno music from behind their barbed-wire-topped fences, and we saw the gate open for a silver BMW to drive out.

Taking pictures in cemeteries is not allowed

I didn't know it wasn't allowed, but I got told. I walked away, though, with a bunch of them. I hope I'm not haunted.

This morning I blew my blow dryer. In the prep class before I left, someone mentioned that it was easy to do this to blow dryers, which made me really nervous, not as much for ruining the blow dryer as the actual event. Well, here's what happens (no fear of the unknown, right?): there is a flash and a pop and a slightly smokey smell and the lights go out for about thirty seconds. So no big deal.

I got the chance to go to a mall today, though, where I finally got a hold of some Swiss Francs and where I bought a new, blue, sleek, and very small European blow dryer that will not blow out anything except my hair. I also listened to some music at the electronics store and found some replacements for the headphones I stepped on last night. They are also blue. I hope they work.

I kept working on research stuff today (at the middle school in the picture), until at one point my eyes simply wouldn't..stay...open....

Another unexpected: Google is in German, as is the Blogspot website. How do they know where I am?