There is a girl in one of my classes named Chlésia and all I can think of when her name is said is Chlamydia.
Today in one of my classes, I decided to do the traditional, "let's make turkeys out of your hands!" that every American kid had to suffer through every year from age five to ten. Well, my kids liked it anyway, but they love anything that has to do with coloriage. Afterwards, I told them that the drawings were for them to keep and take home. And lo and behold, about seven gave me their drawings for me to keep and take home! lol.
On Thursday, I have my inspection, or... observation. I don't know. Willy is going to come by and watch me and that's not nerve-wracking at all! Not a bit.
I woke up this morning to a fine layer of snow blanketing my windowsill and the sidewalks and roads outside. And for once, I had a nice, interesting conversation with a French person that consisted of more than just, "Oui," and "Okay." Kévin (a sort of teaching assistant - he helps the "challenged" kids) drove me to the train station after work (it's another town over) and it was nice to talk to someone who wasn't twice my age. For once, I was bringing up subjects and actually answering questions. I know my French isn't horrible but a lot of times it just feels inadequate. But hey, everyone understands me and I've gotten really lucky with my school in that all the teachers are nice and accommodating and they seem genuinely happy to have an English assistant (it's the school's first year). But I've actually heard that all of the people in my département are happy with their schools (by département, I mean the nine of us teaching primary school in the Pas-de-Calais region), and I think it has a lot to do with Willy, who really does care, hence why he's coming out to do inspections and give us some tips.
I'm really glad for my situation, and after looking on the forums (god, people complain a lot), I think maybe they don't appreciate it as much as I do. There are plenty of people that didn't get to come who would gladly take one of those complainers places. As for me, I'm happy just where I am.
A week after the worldwide release and two days after the French release, I finally saw Harry Potter et les reliques de morts, or the Deathly Hallows. I spent my last few euros to go into Lille and see it in English at the UGC cine cite theater.
Given that I am a huge Harry Potter fan, and have read all the books a lot (I seriously couldn't tell you how many times as I lost track back in 8th grade), and a lot of my friends I've met because of Harry Potter, I obviously have very strong opinions on how the movies should go. Of course, I have been disappointed every time, and every time, my expectations have dropped a little farther so that, by the time we reach the seventh movie, my expectations are low enough that I can almost finally enjoy the movies.
HP7 was the best so far. Most definitely. It was the truest to the book and THANK GOD the actors finally learned how to act. It only took them six movies. The writers finally learned how to write, and the actors learned how to cry. For the first time in six movies, I actually believed Emma Watson when she said her lines. It's no secret I've had big issues with her acting, and Dan's for that matter.
My favorite parts were the Tale of the Three Brothers. The animation was a nice cut from the rest of the film. My other favorite part was the return of Ron and his story about the ball of light. Not gonna lie, I cried. For the first time ever in a Harry Potter movie, I felt like the movie did real justice to a scene. Rupert added emotion behind the words to a point where it certainly needed it.
My biggest issues were the random dropping of information. I understand the need (because they've forgotten to do it the last 6 movies. come on.) but it's still annoying. "Hey, they're Snatchers." "I'm Bill." "He's Mundungus." P.S., where the hell has Kreacher been for the past three movies? Apparently he's just been snuffling around cupboards in the Black house since Sirius died.
My other issue was Wormtail. He didn't die. What exactly happened to him anyway? I was confused there. Also, the reintroduction of Dobby in the beginning. I was sitting there thinking, "Man, he's annoying, and I'm supposed to be sad later when he dies." - Dobby's death was the single time I cried while reading the entire HP saga. Oh, and Voldemort. My god, is he in love with Snape or something? I swear, at the party meeting, Voldemort was like, "Snapey-poo, where have you been, darling? Come sit, I saved you a place right near me so that I may pet your greasy hair as I speak."
But overall, it was good. Even from the first scene with Hermione and her parents, I thought Emma somehow reigned herself in and did a good job. She stopped acting with her eyebrows and her overdramatics finally came in useful. Rupert was brilliant, as always, and I wish the writers would stop acting like he's only there for comic relief. It's too late now, but still. He never gets enough credit. Dan... was better. I didn't cringe in the theater at his acting, so I count it a success.
And Draco, my lovely Draco. Only two lines. Someday you'll have your revenge.
Joyeuse Action de Grace! Or rather, Happy Thanksgiving.
I woke up this morning at 7AM as usual for a Thursday, went to work, explained cranberries to children of varying ages ("It's like a cherry but smaller and not sweet") - the teacher went on to explain that they have cranberry juice in France, and around noon (while revising "I like playing football") it started snowing.
The first snow of the season on Thanksgiving day. How awesome. Me, I love snow although snow in France is a definite step-up from snow in China. At the very least, we have heat here. It didn't last long and the ground was too wet for it to stick, but there's more in the forecast later this week.
At lunch, I ate something I didn't bother to ask what it was. As long as you don't tell me, I'm much more likely to try it. Turns out I ate veal the other day (first time, very glad I didn't know at the time). I also ate mussels for the first time (although those were pretty obvious what they were) - they're a very traditional northern dish. Mussles and fries.
Afterwards, I miraculously forgot the word for "food" after using it numerous times that week and even that day. It was just a blank moment. The teacher mentioned Obama pardoning the Turkeys, who of course will be sent to Disneyland.
The Happiest Turkeys on Earth
My big plans for Thanksgiving involve nothing more interesting than watching TV. Compared to last year, when us 12 Americans got together for chicken, sweet potatoes, and various desserts (both appetizing and not, lol).
On a more random note, whenever I put quotations around my words as I speak in French, I'm reminded of high school French class where we decided that we should do the French quotations << oui ! >> with our arms in that shape. Six years later, it's still in my head. Happy Thanksgiving!
In order to survive in France, there are some simple words and phrases one must know. They may seem simple to you, but really, they are the essentials!
The List:
Oui
Ca va (say twice for emphasis)
Okay
D'accord
Ca y est? (this basically means, it was okay?)
Ca y était? (same as above)
Je fais rien
Et beeennnnn oui
Beeeennnn oui, je crois
(you can combine any number of these whenever you feel like your answer needs more padding)
The most confusing on that list are definitely, "Ca y est?" and "Ca y était?" Why? Because you never know what they're referring to. Are they talking about this morning? This afternoon? The forty-five minutes you spent trying to make kids remember that green and grey are not the same color? Or that you do pronounce the H in hello, horse, he, here? I just want to say, "I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN." So, instead, I just nod and say, "Oui."
That's the extent of my vocabulary in France. However, my word of the month is "une punition" (yes, it is what it sounds like, a punishment). French teachers are quite fond of giving these out to students who do anything wrong. I don't give them out, but threatening to send them to the Maitresse for one gets them to shut up for at least a few seconds.
Students are particularly wild on Thursdays for some reason. I haven't fathomed why yet. I was supposed to read them Brown Bear and every single time a page was turned, they went into a frenzy. Seriously? It's Brown Bear. He's a bear, who's brown. Not real exciting. But I suppose when you're eight years old, a purple cat can really excite the senses. Ah, to be young again.
Date: November 10th, 2010
Location: London, the UK
Mission: Stalk the Red Carpet premiere of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Meet the stars. See JK Rowling. Be a complete and utter nerd.
10:30PM
On arriving in Leicester Square, the wind was sharp, the air was cold, and the tents were already up. Some people (those diehard fans who, I hate to say, are possibly more hardcore than me? - is that even possible? I was told by several people this weekend that I was more hardcore than they were even... and I don't even go on mugglenet. crazy!) had been set up since "teatime." The line wound halfway around the square already.
12:00AM
I finally took my place in line, near the end, and the security guard who probably thought we were just as crazy as everyone else divided us up into groups of ten and moved us along the fence. He sat us down near a gate and said, "Sit there and don't move." And don't move we did... for the next nine hours. I made friends with my neighbors, from America, Mexico, and Wales. It turns out that probably about 80% of the crazies camped out overnight were Americans. I suppose most of us saw it as our last chance, and really, it is. There's only one more premiere left and if we don't go now, we miss out on something all of Britain has had for the past six movies.
2:00AM
The cold had set in and I could no longer feel my fingers or toes. We sang songs from A Very Potter Musical/Sequel, drew up ridiculous posters that eventually never made it out of the bag, and huddled together under thin blankets and sweatshirts. A few people managed to sleep under umbrella-made shelter from the wind, and I had to stand up just to get the feeling back in my toes. The drunk hecklers stumbled out of the surrounding clubs, slurringly asking what we were doing, one guy pissing on umbrellas, and a girl, barefoot and stumbling, shouting, "Don't you feel stupid?" Honestly, not compared to you.
3:00AM
A woman from a British radio station I've never heard of came out and interview me and another Australian girl I met there. The questions were standard - How long have you been out here for? Who do you want to see the most? What does Harry Potter mean to you? - My answers were easy - about four hours, Rupert Grint, and I came out here and am sitting in freezing cold because it's my last chance and the end of Harry Potter means the end of my childhood which is depressing when you think about it, and I've been thinking about it far too much lately. She also asked what I would do if I got to meet Rupert, and my answer was something like, "Probably say something stupid because that's what I always do when I meet people like that."
5:00AM
The rain begins. The umbrellas go up. People began to arise and rub the feeling back into their limbs. New (idiotic) security guys arrive and are apparently not briefed on anything. Those not-so-dedicated fans show up and try to cut in line. We send them to the back with only a few snapped words, attempting to be polite after seven hours of waiting already.
8:00AM
The line begins to move. The groups ahead of us were moved up and we were left with a flippant, "Someone will be along," and a person who never showed. We asked the guy in the yellow vest. He knew nothing. He bumbled about different gates. Someone from the group ahead of us came back to tell us people were attempting to shove in ahead. Eventually, Dumb Yellow-Vest guy tells us we were right, and we should move up. We push out the cutters and take our rightful places.
9:00AM
We are finally allowed to enter the all hallowed ground of Leicester Square and get squashed in with little red stamps on the backs of our hands. And then we wait.
And wait.
And wait.
2:00PM
The rain decides to dump everything it's got on us. Umbrellas are squashed together and dripping on everything and everyone is wet and cold and tired, but no one leaves. We discuss how amazing it will be to see everyone, how utterly unbelievable it would be to meet JK Rowling. We discuss the books and characters. We are dorks to the max. It is awesome. We wait.
4:30PM
The red carpet is finally assembled! The press begins to arrive, video cameras tell people to scream over and over again, giving us false hope each time.
5:00PM
It begins.
6:00PM
An hour after the announcement that a star has arrived, they finally enter the red carpet area and it begins for real. The crowd is screaming and squishing and shoving autograph books and papers in front of people who we don't even know at times. My spot is directly behind the interview stage and I get to see Emma Watson, Dan Radcliffe, and Tom Felton way up close. I saw "Neville," "Luna," "Dean," and people who play Padma (or Parvati? Still not sure on that), Jason Isaacs, and new actress who plays Gabrielle.
7:00PM
It ends. We're all exhausted, exhilarated, thrilled, tired, so happy. Nineteen hours later and I don't regret a single thing, well, except perhaps the lack of a tent or sleeping bag.
Would I do it again? YES. Do you even need to ask?
The gauntlet has been thrown. The proverbial glove has come off the hand and been smacked across a cheek, leaving a smarting red print behind. The flags have been flown. And only one can come in the winner.
I have been challenged by a friend to the Battle of NaNoWriMo 2010.
I accept this challenge.
50k Words. 30 Days. 1 Insane Month.
This will be my fourth year participating in National Novel Writing Month. Last year I wrote two novels. The year before, I self-published my novel. This year... people have placed very high expectations on my head. I'm not sure I can meet them all.
Last night was the official NaNoWriMo kick-off party at La Cantine in Paris. It lasted from 8PM on October 31st, noveling beginning precisely at midnight, and ended at 8AM November 1st. In that span of eight hours of noveling, I wrote a whopping two thousand words. Not a very impressive start. However, it has long been proven that I do my best writing during the mid-afternoon.
As to the Battle of NaNoWriMo, no set prizes have been designated yet. But I have been officially slapped with the white, silk glove. That's not to say I don't fully expect my other NaNo buddies to keep up with me as well as my challenger. Those I have dragged into NaNo with me over the years should do well to remember that it is I who holds the glove now, and a challenge could be waiting to smack you just around the corner.
