Tag Archives: immersion

What the . . . ?

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date: Fri, Jan 16, 2009

subject:  2: La première semaine d’ecole c’est fini (pau)!
Oh my gosh, I thought I hit “DISCARD FOREVER” by mistake!
Everything I had written just disappeared. Poof! Pas du tout! Yes, everything.
All I could see was a new button I had never seen before . . . (the one with the devilish aforementioned title).
Thank goodness I’m not a complete moron and I had just hit “SEND” by mistake. Gott sei dank. Trust me, that’s exactly the right thing to say right now.
Whew . . . . okay, where was I?
Alors,
There was just enough room in the elevator for my suitcase–with it standing UP, not on its side!  I dragged it up the stairs, placed it inside the elevator, pushed the button, and très vite I closed the door. I held my breath for a minute and after what felt like 2 minutes it began to move.  The thought of either 1) dragging it up this tiny, tiny staircase made of the kind of stone which becomes incredibly beautiful after people have walked on it for over one hundred years and make a uniquely dimpled pattern or 2) climbing on top of my suitcase in the tiny elevator didn’t seem too appealing to me at the moment.  Maybe now, after a week’s rest  . . . . . . non, encorce non (not even now!).
La Madame met me at the top of the stairs huffing and puffing (moi was huffing & puffing, pas elle) just about when the elevator c’est arrivé. We dragged it into her appartement. Said hello. I took off my backpack, purse–which I had wrapped around my neck, coat and gloves; set them on a chair AND again we said our hellos. “Enchantée!”
Ecole Suisse de Langue à Lyon

First week of school stay pau.

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date:  Fri, Jan 15, 2009

subject:  La première semaine d’ecole c’est fini (pau)!
Bonjour mes amis,
I hope this note finds you all healthy and happy AND warm, because it’s been crazy cold here. Just today it’s gotten a bit warmer–meaning I’m just wearing one pair of silk long underwear and not two.  By the way, thank you Mom for that tip. You saved me a lot of uncomfortable hours shaking uncontrollably in the classroom (which is what I did on Monday since I didn’t think to put them on!).
Today is Friday the 15th of January and I’ve just finished my first week of school. It’s 3 p.m. and I’m sitting in an internet/telephone place where I’m hearing just as much Arabic as French. I found a place, which must be close to the university. I was happy to stumble past it this morning when I boldly decided to find another route to school.  I had found a chique shop right on la Saône (one of the 3 rivers, joke to follow), which I had passed most days as I took the 20 to 30 minute walk to school. It cost 2.50 euro an hour and this one is only two an hour . . . . okay, I’m watching my pennies (or centines, or something fairly close. . . .).
Okay, time to get on track. First of all, mahalo to the encouraging words which came my way, AND mahalo too to those who did not write.  When I use the ordi (short chique word for computer) I try to not be too piggish.  We are all wanting to check our email after all, (the universal umbilical cord these days, je pense).
The two-hour train ride to Lyon from Paris was pleasantly uneventful. 13:54 was a perfect time to depart.  I was able to sleep in a bit, get a free meal at the hotel (the guy who had checked me had said I’d have to pay 8 euro. That’s why I chose go next door that first morning; I figured that if I had to pay, why not go somewhere nice.  Not that the hotel wasn’t nice, but it’s full of you know, tourists like me.  Yep, it’s the ultimate hypocrisy to travel and then not be around tourist.)  Sooooo the last morning I decided to go for speed rather than style. Sure enough, I was crammed into a tiny room with a bunch of other loud obnoxious tourists (no, there weren’t any Americans there but Europeans have learned much from us too) and was given mediocre bread, croissant and instant decaf coffee (my choice).  But it did buy me time to have another pleasant hour wandering around the Sacre Coeur area.  Okay, I admit it.  It’s fun to pretend I’m Amelie . . . .
Back to the train. It was really cool actually. I was on a TGV, which means “train goes vite.”  And it really does, go fast that is. It was a double-decker and I got to be on top. I had the 2 seats facing backwards to myself.  It probably would have been a great place to watch the scenery if I hadn’t immediately fallen asleep after eating my wonderful sandwich (jambon et fromage dans un baguette).
Oh, and yet again did a confused tourist come to me for help.  I know what you’re thinking Hannah and Dwight, pourquoi toi?  It must be my très gentille visage.  (Okay WIT ladies, maybe next time I can play a mean femme and show you all that I can really act. AND alright Michele, I know what you’re thinking too . . . . but let’s not go there).  This Chinese woman who spoke beautiful French kept showing me her ticket and asking à Lyon? Oui, oui I replied.
You have to insert your train ticket in that little box before boarding; it stamps a time signature on it. If you don’t, the nice ticket person who later comes along and asks to see your ticket won’t be happy.  And why wouldn’t you want to make that person happy?
I’ll let you in on a little secret. After I got on the train and found my place, just to be sure, I turned to the wholesome looking French couple who were probably returning to their home in the country and asked, “À Lyon?”  “Oui, oui!” they replied.
Once at Part Dieu, Lyon’s main gare, it was pretty easy to find my way to my new home for six semaines.
Thanks to Tony, I yet again had a handy google map in hand.  The hour-long walk took me to le Rhone (the 2nd of the 3 rivers in Lyon).  Being Sunday afternoon and mostly sunny (but très, très froid!) there were lots of families out enjoying the cool parks along the river.
I halfway wanted to stop and slide down one of the stainless steel slides, which goes from the top level where the roadway is to the lower level where the river bank is, but I thought my suitcase might get stuck.  Plus, it was àè”&§ freezing!!!
Alors, then I crossed one of many, many bridges to get to the center part of Lyon. I kept on going and then crossed yet another river (la Saône, the first river I mentioned pages and pages ago). Now à droit along this river for bit until it was time to cross the street and chercher pour quai Pierre Scize/69005 Lyon. (hint, hint if you want to send ME une carte postale which I can show my classmates, send it c/o la Madame, merci beaucoup!)
Okay, Mister LeHoven had kindly taken me on a spin along google earth to see what quai Pierre Scize looked like.  We had been taken to the area but couldn’t find the exact appartement. I’ll be darned if the same thing didn’t happen to me! Alors, there’s a number that’s close, but where is Madame’s apartment? Could it possibly be this massive rock wall, which has a statue of something male and all in white?  No.  But fortunately this fool had at least enough wits about her to take a look at the building on the OTHER side of the rock wall; no, not behind the wall, but rather beside it. This massive, eight story, 100-year old building didn’t have a number (and why not I ask myself?); but at least it did have names with a little button to push beside each one. Voila, ca c’est la Madame.  “Je suis Susan.” “Vien à sixième étage.” “Quelle étage?”  “6th.” (mais non, pas en anglais, en francais, bien sur!)
Like most old buildings of this type, there is a foyer with mail boxes and such on the right. Toward the back and on the left are a couple of stairs, which lead to the smallest elevator in the world.
I kid you not.  There’s a très petite sign which says “tiniest elevator in the world®.” At least I think that’s what it says. I am a beginner after all.
There was just enough room in the elevator for my suitcase–with it standing UP, not on its side! I dragged it up the stairs, placed it inside the elevator, pushed 6, and très vite, closed the door. I held my breath for a minute
Ecole Suisse de Langue à Lyon

How old is YOUR father?

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Right off the bat I started doing extra stuff at the school. That’s what I was there for (learning French and doing new things) and I was really into it. This included doing exercises on the internet. What kind of exercises? Well, the kind where you insert the correct answer into a sentence, usually choosing from multiple choice answers. (No, it wasn’t rocket science; but it was a fast and fun way to learn or confirm what you already knew.)

While doing one of them, I had to crack up. I thought of my dear friend Mary Hunter and how she would crack up too. So I sent her the following email:

date: Thu, Jan 14, 2009

subject: I just had a Mary Hunter mement! [sic]
(It was supposed to be moment. Just TRY typing on an European keyboard!)

Bonjour mon amie!

I was just now doing an exercise for French on the computer where you choose the correct answer. Question was, “Mon père a . . . ans.” (My father is . . . years old.)

The answer was 50!!!!!

Feel it?

I felt you laugh with me!

besos,

Susan

And her reply . . .

date: Fri, Jan 15, 2009

subject Re: I just had a Mary Hunter mement!

ah oui!!
NY TIMES pictures of the day today (Friday) included one of two kids rolling a snowball in front of the Eiffel Tower, so I had a Susan mement! Hope you are warm enough…
how do you say “blessings”??…a bientot, mon amie! xxoo multi besos!

•••

I’m in my late 40’s. She’s in her early 50’s. Most of the “kids” at the school are between 19 and 21 years old.

Feel it?

C’est moi avec mon amie Mary Hunter.

Paris ice skating

I have arrived !

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date:  Sat, Jan 9, 2009

subject:  Je suis arrivée!!!!
Bon soir mon bon amis, mes bon amis?  What do I know? I just a beginner who’s only studied at home with a book and cassettes!  Yes, cassettes, not even CD’s,
So, let’s start over. Hello everyone.  I’m here in gay paree.  And wow, am I having fun.  Where to begin?  Well, first of all, I’m fortunate enough to have found an internet cafe with an American keyboard.  For those of you who haven’t ever used a European keyboard, just imagine typing on a board that just for fun throws out some of the oddest configurations.  Welcome in France!
Okay, again, where to begin?  The flights (and I do mean FLIGHTS) went smoothly.  Thank goodness and I went to sleep almost immediately upon sitting down in JFK.  It was 10 p.m. EST, 4 a.m. ala France.  I woke up 5.5 hours later for a semi-warm croissant and some pleasantly warm water (yes, I brought a tea bag, can’t remember the kind, just that it was exactly what I wanted).  I had just enough time on that final flight to enjoy a bit of the rat movie, oh shoots, the name escapes me. Oh yes, ratatouille.  It’s even funnier in French, whatever that means.  Seemed like the appropriate way to say bienvenue!
It was easy to find the train station.  Along the way I passed many good eateries.  Yes Mom, I’ll get there plenty early on the day I’m to meet you and dine at whichever one piques my fancy. A very nice young lady asked if I needed help with the ticket, I figured it out on my own but appreciated her help anyway.  Always nice to have a sweet young face smile at you encouragingly (don’t ask how I looked after 3 flights, each over 5.5 hours long!).
Thanks to my dear husband, I had my route laid out already for arrival at the hotel.  B train to Gard de Nord, # 4 line to the one with poison in the name and then only 2 stops on # 12. Easy!  Only thing was, the friendly Lamark stop had a spiral staircase to the top of the eiffel tower, okay, maybe not that high, but pretty darn high.  Thank goodness my triceps and biceps are still working for me. Once I was out in the fresh air of paree (cough) I had to look about to find the hotel.  After a short pass down the flat roadway I realized, yes, I’ve got to tote my suitcase up another flight of steps.  But they weren’t that far and guess what?  The hotel which my darling husband had booked for me was right at the top of those stairs, Hotel Roma Sacre Coeur, or something like that.

It’s a 2 star that’s really more like a 3 star.  I suppose the only difference with a 3 star is that breakfast is extra.  But the room is really nice. Okay, really nice to someone like me who’s a born optimist. But I think it’d even be nice to someone like say . . . I won’t say her name, but many of you know who I mean.  I have a private bath WITH a nice bathtub.  And two windows which look over THOSE stairs I trapsed up!  Pretty cool.  And 2 neat art deco yellow chairs.

Okay, so to the first day.  After finding the hotel and being told I couldn’t check in for all of 40 minutes (half French, half English . . . I seem to have a way of shaming them into still speaking French to me even though my skills are quite pitiful . . .) I set-off to find the Sacre Coeur (after leaving my suitcase behind OF COURSE!). I found it easily enough after having a nice chat (en Francais!) with a lovely lady with an even more lovely dog.  Yes, beautiful dogs are everywhere in the world.

I soaked in the gorgeous church (though somewhere I read that it doesn’t exactly fit a real prototype of a “perfect” church, but who cares!  I think it’s magnifique!)

Then back to the hotel to find my room (#205, a very audacious number don’t you think?) check out the toilet, slightly unpack (very slightly, I’m only here for 2 nights after all) and then head of to Gare de Nord (again!) to buy my ticket to Lyon.  It was a very pleasant walk via the Sacre Coeur (of course! plus it was on the way).  I made it in good time and managed to buy my ticket 10 minutes before they were closing for the day.  I managed to hack my way through completely in French until the lady rattled off in Olympic record spead, 1:54 or 2:54 p.m.????  Okay, I broke down and asked her to please write it down.  No writing! she replied, and just as quickly she switched to English (this lady has surely medaled in SOME Olympic sport of some kind!). Okay, 1:54 p.m. s’il vous plait.  Free with my one chore of the day done, I meandered down the main boulevards switching to a smaller one when it got really interesting (lots of shops and things . . ) until I found myself at Les Halles.  It was really cool looking since the afternoon light had hit that wonderful martini hour.  Wow, what’s that church over there?!  It was lit up so beautifully.

I boldly asked a man which church it was, he replied in French, well Notre Dame, of course! Notre Dame?  I took lots of pictures . . . . and wandered on over wondering why I hadn’t crossed a bridge yet to the Cite.

I happened upon a cool sculpture of a HUGE dome like rock of a face with an appropriately large hand on the side. Snap, snap.  Too good to pass up.  But is this Notre Dame?  doesn’t look like the one I remember?

I hele’d on down the road, found myself by the Louvre Place whatchamacallit.  Decided to cross Pont Neuf and voila, there was Notre Dame!

Was the man conning me or a tourist too?? Doesn’t matter. I sure enjoyed that first church and the magical light around it.  I proceeded to then find the street and address where Mom and I are going to stay in February (the original plan of my husband joining me after 4 weeks was nixed; I added 2 more weeks to my stay in Lyon and will be in France for the 8 weeks booked so long ago . . . ). My oh my, how did I find such a cool place???

By now it was 6 p.m. and I hadn’t eaten since the warm airplane croissant around 9:30 a.m.  I went for the cheapie 10 Euro dinner with french onion soup, pasta and an apple torte completed with a 13 euro half bottle of wine.  Sounded perfect to me!  The waiter was very friendly.  So friendly that he offered to show me around later in the evening.  I very politely but non-ambiguously said, “Merci, mais NON!”  He caught my drift but continued to be a decent waiter. Then I found the metro and voila, I was home to chez Roma Sacre Coeur whatchamallit room 205.

The next morning I woke raring to go at 4 a.m.  Yep, 4 a.m.  I decided to linger in bed a bit and watched some telly.  Found a bit of this and that (including Dallas ala 1980s, they still watch that???) and even a German promo show on how to buy something wonderful to make you look beautiful.  I figured that was cheating, so I switched back to some symphony.  Then that seemed like the perfect time to doze yet again.  So, from 5:30 a.m. to 8:30 a.m. I slept beautifully until the phone rang!  Yes, the phone rang! Who could that be?  Had to be Tony.  Who else has my number, unless they wanted to wake me up for the 8 euro breakfast (the way they’re all hurting these days for business, I wouldn’t put it pass them).  But there was NOTHING on the line. Darn.

Again, the phone rang.  Again, nothing.  Okay, must be time to get up and take a soak.  Please realize that I left home LONG ago and hadn’t bathed.  It WAS time.  I took a soak in tepid water thinking that tomorrow I must bathe much earlier before all the hot water is used up.  Slowly I got ready, walked to the cafe next door and had a loverly breakfast of bread, butter, jelly AND a croissant and TWO wonderful decaf coffees avec creme.

Then, the highlight of the day.  I took the metro to Hôtel de Ville to iceskate!  Remember Nancy telling us about this last June?  Well, they still do it.  I paid my 5 euros for the use of some very well-made patin and glissed for over 2 hours!  Yep, for over 2 hours.  It was just too darn much fun to stop, especially after the sun came out and lit up the entire rink.

I took lots of photos and a nice lady from the Philippines (yes! the Philippines) took my picture.  Her cute little boy grabbed my hand, so I grabbed it back.  He’s in the photo.
Hey, who’s not to want a cute little boy in your photo or in your life if only for a few minutes?  He skated by me many times and waved.  He was my pal for the next few hours . . . And then, to the marche to buy a towel for Lyon.  Seems that the French have something about using other people’s towels.  Something about sanitation.  And we lend our towels to people all the time???? Anyway, seems ALL of Paris was at THE grand shopping center by Hotel de Ville shopping.  SOLDES signs were everywhere.  I got my pretty blue towel and washcloth, a calendar for 2009 and even a little clinique for removing my makeup (now that was the ONLY conversation completely in French, either the lady didn’t know any French or was being polite, but I sure had fun getting her to understand what I wanted.  And yes, that WAS fun!).  Then it was time to head home, back on the metro to my cool pad for a bit of a repose.  Fortunately for me (and Tony) this is when Tony chose to try and call again. Yep, it was him the first time.  But this time I was dressed and ran downstairs to the reception desk.  Earlier I had told him, “Ma telephone ne marche pas.” I don’t think he believed me, but he did indulge me and forward the call to the hallway phone.  45 minutes later my lover and I had caught up on all the pressing news (Rocket Girl loves sleeping on the lazy boy!).
And now, it’s late at night 11:15 p.m. and hopefully I’ve done my bit to pacify the jetlag gods so that I’ll sleep till a decent hour.
Oh, but wait, I must tell you about my WONDERFUL dinner! I splurged and had St. Jacques (scallops ala magnifique!) l’agneau (lamb) and rose wine and then the kicker.  I asked for something chocolat. What’s your favorite I asked (in French even). But this one, of course! It comes warm.  That’s what I want, I replied.  And oh my, was it ever delicious!
So now my friends, bon nuit and wish me well as I venture tomorrow to Lyon and my hostess who lives on the river and had a chat très adorable and plus calin (who loves to be petted, I believe!)
And lastly, thank the typewriter gods that I was actually given a keyboard like those in the USA, otherwise my mistakes would have been MANY< many more.
Oh, and get this, a poor lady was lost and asked me “Bitte” for help. I thought she was German and asked if she spoke German, “A little,” she replied.  I then gave her directions in German to the closest metro! What is the world coming to when an American tells a French woman (for I think she was French after all) how to get to a metro station in her native country in her worst enemy’s language!!
Bon nuit mes bonnes amis!  (p.s. I’ll correct the grammar after I have some REAL classes)
Susan
p.s. happy late birthday Melissa, how cool to see you enroute to the airport!
Church in Paris

It’s off to France I go . . .

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In 1999 after taking a month long trip to Europe with my parents and oldest sister, I decided that I wanted to learn French.

Why?
Well, why not?
Before that trip with my family I did zero preparation in the language. Zero. I speak German and I know how much time it takes to learn a language. The thought of trying to learn just a little before the trip seemed ridiculous because I knew how much time it would take to learn something, to be able to have a back-and-forth with a French person. So I did zip. Nada.
After several weeks of not getting what we really wanted for breakfast (coffee, I’m talking the kind of coffee we really wanted), I took my sister’s phrase book and came up with something to use one morning in Annecy.  And it worked! For the first time on the trip we got large American-style coffees–black for everyone except me, cream and sugar for the youngest). “Now that’s more like it,” Dad had said.
Did I keep learning during that trip?
No. It just seemed pointless.
At first.
Then my little pea-sized brain started churning and thought, “Why not? Why not learn French?”
I had subconsciously checked “Learning a Language” off my list of things to do in life. I hadn’t even realized that I’d done that, but I had.
So, I put it back on the list and got busy. Well, sort of. In the midst of my “real” life I would manage to put in an hour here and hour there with my wonderful textbook which came with cassette tapes (a good thing, or I never would have gotten an inkling about the correct pronunciation. French pronunciation has nothing to do with how it’s spelt when you’re thinking as an English speaking person). Complete years would pass without me doing nary a thing to reach my goal of being able to speak French conversationally.
In June 2008 I realized that my “deadline” was approaching (in 1999 I’d set the mark of 10 years as my goal for being able to carry on a conversation in French) and that I needed to kick this learning program in the butt. I got on-line and found a school in Lyon that seemed perfect. I had a heart-to-heart with my husband and he said he’d support me 100% in reaching my goal (which meant that he’d be willing for me to go to France without him and that he’d carry on our business alone for that month). I booked 4 weeks in Lyon at this school starting in January 2009, set-up our flights using frequent flyer miles (Our? Yes, our. The plan was that I would study in Lyon for 4 weeks and then my husband and I would meet up somewhere in France where I could use my new found skills. We’d do a home exchange for another 4 weeks; surely we could find people who’d want to spend a month in Hawaii. Wouldn’t you want to spend a month in Hawaii?), wired the money and then couldn’t quite believe that it was really going to happen!
What comes next is the posting of many, many letters that I wrote to friends and family around the world during my stay in France. I didn’t even think about writing a blog at the time. My brain was too full with new French words and grammar for anything else. Also, there was a point when I wasn’t sure if I was even going to be able to do the trip . . . but you’ll have to read the earlier entries for the why of that. At the time, I was doing well to just keep it all together.
It was an incredible trip and I invite you to join me. I look forward to meeting you along the way.