Very very early tomorrow morning I am hopping on a plane to Krakow. I will spend four days/three nights there, and then take the night train to Budapest. I'll have six days in Hungary, that I'll split between Budapest, Eger, and maybe Sopron.
This is my first long trip since last February, when I went to Andalusia. I've been wanting to go do Krakow and Budapest for years now, so I'm pretty excited. I'm a bit nervous about the weather, cause it's supposedly very very cold for the season, but there's not much I can do about that. If there's sun, it'll be fine, but the Krakow forecast is for rain with highs in the low 50s. Eek!
While in Krakow I'll spend a day at Auschwitz, which I expect to be pretty difficult. I have no idea how I'll react once there, but I know it's something I really want to do, no matter how hard it is.
I'm also going to visit Wieliczka Salt Mines, which I've been wanting to see since reading the excellent book Salt: A World History last year.
I have two guide books for Krakow, one French and one American, but welcome any and all suggestions for places to eat, visit, shop, etc. I'll be there October 25th in the morning to October 28th at night, when I leave for Hungary. Let me know if you have tips!
Why is birth control called birth control, and not pregnancy control?
I’m nearing the end of my first week of teaching at Lycée A, and so far, so good. This is the fourth school I've worked at, since my second year teaching I was assigned to two collèges. Out of the four, this is by far my favorite. I don’t want to jinx myself by breathing a huge sigh of relief, but the past three days have been really enjoyable.
A huge part of this happiness is my awesome commute. Assuming that one were to wake up on time, one could walk to Lycée A from my apartment in about 12 minutes. If one were to, say, shut off one’s alarm without actually getting out of bed two mornings in a row and then spend too long catching up on one’s blog roll on the third morning, one would still not be screwed. There just happens to be a bus that runs directly between one’s house and the door of the school that shaves five minutes off the normal seven-minute trip. So, one has not yet been late to work.
Okay, back to the first person.
My students are universally respectful in class, and the majority is interested and participates. Some of them have a truly abysmal level of English, considering the number of years they’ve been taking English class, but they do seem interested in improving.
I’ve had some really funny moments so far this week, too. During the first lesson I say something like, “My name is Sophie, I’ve lived in Paris for three years, I love to travel, I like to go to the marché, and I hate to get up early.” And then I ask them to introduce themselves. I get a lot of, “My name is Laurent, I’m 16, I have 2 sisters and I like music.” But this one girl, one of the not-so-interested ones, said her name and then just looked at me. I said, “okay, what do you like, what do you not like, what do you do on the weekends?” and she just replied, “I have no passion” in a completely monotone voice. It took a lot of will to not laugh, although I couldn't quite stop myself from blurting out, “that’s sad!”
Another kid, Akim, forgot to turn off his cell phone in class. Normally I would have chastised him, but his ring tone was the theme song to the Fresh Prince of Bel Air, so I just burst out laughing. Akim is memorable for other reasons, too. When introducing himself, he said that he loves his girlfriend of two years. He then proceeded to hit on me THE ENTIRE CLASS. He was very charming about it, and obviously joking, but when it was time for the kids to practice their question skills, Akim’s questions were: How long have you had a boyfriend? How far is your apartment? Do you have a roommate? How big is it? Big enough for me to come over? Oh, Akim.
A nice bonus of teaching in the same arrondissement as the two collèges from 2007-2008 is that I’ve seen several of my old students. While setting up my desk for Akim’s class, Antoine, whom I taught when he was in 4ème (or 8th grade) came up to my desk and timidly said, “Madame?” When I looked up I was so happy to see him. He was part of a class of all 8th grade boys. You’d think that would have been a nightmare, but we always had a great time, perhaps because I hated their English teacher even more than they did, and didn’t hide it. He said he remembered me, and even remembered my last name, and that he was really happy at Lycée A even though no one else from his collège class ended up there. He had always been a kind of stuttering, shy kid, and now seemed much more confident. It was nice to see.
Also nice to see was Pauline, a girl from my favorite-ever class. She stopped in the hallway and said “je la connais!/I know her!” which is not very elegant, but it got my attention. We didn’t have a chance to talk, because the bell rang so we both had to get to class, but I really hope I see her again soon. The school’s not that big, so I’m sure I will. I adored that class, and really want to find out how everyone is. They wrote me the nicest letters at the end of the year, and we always laughed a lot.
My private lessons are going well, too. Tonight was my first lesson with a great Franco-American family with five kids. I’ll tutor three of them, ages 9, 7, and 4. The two little girls (ages 7 and 4) sent me out the door with hugs and kisses and at one point Caroline actually got down on her knees and bowed to me.
So, I’m happy. Financially completely insecure, but happy.
Look how pretty:
While walking home from the market just now, I'm pretty sure I witnessed a candid camera shooting. I noticed a very upset older Chinese woman shrieking "non! non!" at a man. He had two large containers of lighter fluid resting by his feet. At least, I assume it was lighter fluid or something of the sort, because of the large flammable icons. The man was exaggeratedly miming lighting a cigarette, which obviously freaked out this woman.
I was wondering what the hell was going on, because it seemed very fake. If the guy was going to light his cigarette, why on earth was he taking so long to do it? It seemed like he was taunting the woman. And if she was having such a hard time getting him to understand her, why didn't she just run away before the firestorm?
I figured it was a rehearsal for some sort of comedy show, although it wasn't very funny and certainly in an odd location. I walked right by, assuming no one was in danger, and then I heard applause and laughter. A man jumped out of a nearby parked van and the cigarette-lighting man hugged the frantic woman. I'm pretty sure it was some sort of cruel candid camera-type show.
So if you ever see this skit, and notice a woman walking right by the action in a bright red sweater, holding a large package of toilet paper, that's me. I promise I'm not that callous, I'm just a New Yorker.
There are several projects that I'd love to take care of around the house: covering my headboard in a pretty fabric, hiding the food in my kitchen island, and painting the back of my bookshelf, for starters. But all of these are new ideas, or at least new to this apartment. I've been talking about refinishing my wooden stool for almost a year now.
I got it when I moved into my place in the 14th, where my landlord found it in his garage. Plain varnished wood, spotted with white paint here and there, it was serviceable but not very attractive. I've been meaning to do something about it forever. I finally went to Castorama and got the supplies this August, when I found myself with so much extra time on my hands. I did the sanding in the courtyard of my building, and the painting in my place, on a newspaper-covered floor. I'm really happy with how it turned out!I know it's not a big deal, but this is my first ever refinishing job, and I'm proud of myself.
