In which the spirit of Thanksgiving can pierce even the most cynical of shells.

This week it became clear that whoever is the prominent god here in Bordeaux decided there was no need for autumn this year. On Wednesday 23rd November summer was still in full swing, and then on Thursday winter fell. I'm serious, the temperature dropped by about 15 degrees overnight. It had been a little disconcerting to find myself walking down the main street in Bordeaux watching Christmas decorations being hung whilst wearing a sundress and sunglasses, but, thankfully for the Bordeaux city council, this day-after-tomorrow-style climate change coincided nicely with the switching on of their Christmas lights. So, the mist has fallen, the gloves and scarves have come out of the suitcase they went into in September, and Bordeaux has started to sparkle. One Bordelaise man, who may or may not have overindulged in the vin rouge department, was so excited to see my ugg boots out of their summer hibernation that he felt the need to lean over and stroke them at the tram stop. I think its definitely a sign that I've truly acclimatised to my life here that this event didn't even really concern me. D'accord. Along with this new weather has come potential for staffroom small talk. I don't know who it was that decided that its a specifically British trait to talk about the weather, but let me tell you, the French love that stuff. I would say pretty much every teacher I spoke to on Thursday opened with 'Hey, you're from England, I bet you're loving this weather! Is this what its like in England? Is this normal for you?' When I reply with 'Yeah, I think at home this has pretty much been going on since September,' it genuinely blows their minds. 

So yes, lessons for this week - the French love weather talk, and they also love when I tell them about the differences between our countries. 

Its a little awkward when they ask me about the differences between our education systems, another hot lunchtime topic, since my only resource for information on how a state primary school works is my own memory, and since I was 8 when I left I can't help but think that my knowledge is perhaps not entirely accurate. I was, though, able to tell one teacher with confidence that his method of rolling up a magazine and whacking children on the head when they leap up from their chair instead of putting their hands up to answer a question would probably not go down that well. This caused outrage in the staffroom. 'What? But how do they get them to sit back down?' he asked. If any primary school teachers are reading this, he's still waiting for an answer. On a more serious note, I have realised that here in France primary schools are shockingly illequipped for dealing with the 'problem children' in their classrooms. There's at least one child in every class who clearly falls somewhere along the autistic spectrum, but rather than have classroom assistants and special needs teachers to help them they are just left to be headaches for their teachers and a distraction for their peers. I can't say I'm an expert on the system in England but I don't think this is the case at home. Its something which the teachers here complain about a lot and I'm sure needs changing at some point when we don't have a recession to climb out of. Maybe I'll write to Sarkosy and let him know.

Next on the agenda, I don't know whether its the cold weather, but all of a sudden its feeling very Christmassy around here. There is a big Christmas market which has opened up, and there are lights everywhere. Some of them are really high-tech as well. For example, there are lights on all of the trees lining one of the big central avenues which flash in a way which makes them look like snowflakes falling through the branches. Given the french tendency towards drink-driving - apparently it was next to 'smoking all the time', 'closing all our businesses on Sundays' and 'stroking strangers shoes' on the page which fell out of the book called 'Welcome to the 21st Century: Things We Don't Do Anymore' when it was handed over to the french nation - I don't really think these lights are a great idea, but only time will tell how many pileups they will cause. Also adding to the Christmassy vibes have been a symphony concert that I went to with some other assistants - my dad was almost proud until I confidently told him on the phone that I'd been to a Tchaikovsky concert where they played a concerto called Pyotr Ilyich (which is his first name, I read the programme wrong) - and two Thanksgiving dinners. Not having Thanksgiving at home, this is the part where I wrote something mean about not having massacred a whole race who'd just helped us through the winter in their country but then I deleted it when I remembered Britain's shady track record for humanitarianism, I wasn't sure what to expect, but it turns out Thanksgiving is basically just an excuse to eat Christmas dinner when its not Christmas, a cause that I am happy to get behind. Both my Thanksgivings were feasts, so thank you to everyone who contributed to this extra roll that has arrived around my waist. I was genuinely surprised by how many great cooks we have here in Bordeaux! The group of assistants here is fantastic; we are such a melting pot of nationalities and languages and interests but we all have a great time together and its making me feel much better about living in a foreign country! Anyone who spoke to me before I left will know I spent the whole of September panicking that I'd never meet anyone and spend the whole 7 months just wishing I could come home, so I am more thankful than I could possibly even say that we all found each other. You see, that's what you do at Thanksgiving, after you've eaten too much pie and watched cheesy films and played football (ok so we didn't do that but we talked about it), you have to sit and think about what you're really thankful for. Once I got past my default layer of cynicism, I think it was around the time that two incredible assistants whipped out their guitars and we started singing 'Don't Look Back in Anger' (oh, yes, we went there), I realised that that's actually a really nice thing to celebrate. So, here goes, brace yourselves, maybe take a shot or something because its going to get American up in hurr. I think it helps if you read this part in an American accent because its super cheesy y'all. I am thankful for all of the assistants here who have made my life in France better than I thought it was going to be. I'm thankful for the family who have let me into their home and who put up with my interesting grammar on a daily basis. I'm thankful for all the children who actually pay attention when I teach them English, and the ones who don't but at least spend their time making me presents instead. I'm thankful that I have my wonderful family waiting for me at home. I'm thankful for the crazy citizens of Bordeaux who can transform even the most mundane daily routines into bizarre and hilarious events. Thank you, merci, gracias, شكرا , спасибо and go raibh maith agat. I think that covers everyone! 

Onwards and upwards. A tout. 

Correction.

I wrote 'Bordeaux never ceases to disappoint' last time where obviously what I meant was 'never ceases to deliver.' 


I told you I was forgetting my mother tongue. 


Thanks Dad. 

And another thing.

You remember how there are now 300 children in my life.

Well that's 300 birthdays.

Which means 300 renditions of Happy Birthday.

And 300 slices of 300 cakes. 

I was going to complain about how I had to eat 2 pieces of cake at school today when I'd already eaten a huge lunch, but then I reevaluated my life and realised that its great.

Ceci n'est pas juste un fromage.

Well today I inadvertently agreed to accompanying one of my CP (Year 2) teachers on an overnight trip up the Mèdoc -  its a place where they grow wine, not a euphemism - with her boyfriend without realising until afterwards that that is what I'd agreed to. This time it worked out pretty well since I really want to go exploring around there and who better to do it with than some vrai français but I really do need to stop just agreeing emphatically when people tell me things I don't understand. 

I also finally confessed to being in possession of my primary school photographs, complete with uniform and fringe. I haven't actually brought them in yet, but I don't think I can back out now. 

Funniest conversation of the day came from another 'Very Hungry Catepillar' session with a CE2 (Year 4). When we got to Saturday - I'm sure you remember, the caterpillar goes mental and starts eating cakes - I pointed to the slice of cheese and asked them what it was. Shrugs and mutters. 'Ok', I said, 'its cheese'. Everyone repeated back 'shees'. 'What does that mean in French, children?' More shrugs and mutters. 'Seriously?' I asked. 'Nobody can tell me what the French word for this is?' I wondered whether my French was wrong. Finally a brave girl stuck up her hand. '*Urrrr... est-ce qu'il le comté?' she suggested. 'Non!!' a boy immediately shot her down. 'Regardes les trous! C'est pas comté!!' 'Mais la couleur!' '...Gruyère?' someone added to the table. Oh lord, I thought. What have I started? 'Fromage! I wanted fromage! You're 8!'. 'Ohhh le fromage!.. Juste le fromage?' In the end we decided it was probably an Emmental with a strangely coloured rind. Note to self - when drawing cheese for French children you cannot just get away with a yellow slab.  

Speaking of cheese, my second favourite conversation was one which I know another primary school assistant has already had - a CE1 (Year 3) class asked me to sit and tell them about primary school in England. I explained that at their age I used to start at 9 and finish at 3.15. Cries of '*Non!' C'est pas juste!!' 'Vite! Il faut grèver!' (Ok so I made that last one up but we all know they were thinking it) were abound until I explained that they probably did the same amount of work hours, its just that the English children don't insist on taking 2 hours out of the day to eat their sandwiches. We all agreed that really you could get a lot more done with the day if you just got rid of all the cheese courses.

Oh, les français. 

P.S. Thank you all so much for actually reading this.. I can't get over how many people do and it means a lot to me!! 

P.P.S *Is is compté? 'No! Look at the holes! That's not a compté!' But what about the colour!!'

** No! Its not fair!! Quick! We must strike!

Update.

The last posts I did on here were during the half term holiday, and although it was nice to have some time to go home and to do a little exploring, what I've realised this week is that I do really enjoy going to work. I can deal with the early starts and the traffic and the feeling that not one single muscle will ever work again when I get home at night, because I know that I have such a good time at school. It makes sense really. I had a great time at primary school the first time around, and this time is pretty similar, with the added bonus that I get to eat my lunch in the staffroom where there are less projectiles. At work is where my French is really put to the test as all of my interactions with my fellow teachers are in French and I can feel it becoming easier and easier each week. There are still obstacles, but everyone is really friendly and even if I make mistakes they don't make me feel as stupid as I probably look. Teaching is also becoming a little easier now that I have just about figured out what it is that is required of me, and the teachers for their part have realised what I require of them. Its still a little shaky but we're getting there. Last week I fully capitalised on 'The Very Hungry Caterpillar' and used it in almost every class. With a little imagination you can use the same page of a book to ask a 6 year old to point out the different colours, a 7 year old to use a sentence to say what colour something it is, an 8 year old to remember the names of all the different fruits and a 9 year old to say whether or not they like to eat said fruit. The teachers are helping me to make those connections as well, so I'm not alone! I'm constantly impressed by my CM2s, or Year 6s to you, and maybe I'm just remembering wrong but I'm sure the things I'm doing with them we didn't do until our GCSEs. For example, last week I had to get them to think up all the words they associated with living in a town and living in a countryside, and then talk about the differences between the two. I'm pretty sure I remember doing that in a GSCE French lesson! I'm fairly certain in Year 6 French all we did was say 'mmm c'est bon, ça!' whilst pointing at flash cards of foods. Anyone who was also in 6GB will be pleased to hear that I have in fact used the phrase c'est bon, ça! - I missed out the 'mmm' but I think that was optional - whilst tasting a cèpe (a wild mushroom and a regional delicacy - they can fetch up to 50€/kg) my housemate Valere found in the countryside and it seemed to go down well. So thanks, Mrs Barnett. 

Unfortunately, my new found love of the working life happens to have coincided with the realisation that for the people of France going to work is something which they approach much in the same way as a 14 year old girl approaches the idea of a school swimming lesson. Its not so much that they don't like doing it, but it is somewhat inconvenient, and there are so many possible ways to get out of it if you only stop and think about it that it would seem defeatist to ever actually do it. Thinking up excuses for jour feriés or bank holidays is something of a national pastime and so its only on the off-chance that one of my three work days falls on a date with absolutely no significance to the past 1000 years of French history that I get to actually go.
On the other hand, this means that I do get lots of time to explore what Bordeaux has to offer, and it never fails to disappoint. With Valere's help the other assistants and I have discovered an authentic French bar where karaoke no longer means drunken renditions of 'Total Eclipse of the Heart' but rather all-out accordion playing, skinny jeans, striped t-shirt and trilby hat wearing performances of 'Aux Champs Elysees!' and androgynous women singing jazz. We have managed a little French conversation there, and are working up the courage to take over the mic - I'll keep you posted! Yesterday we went to the beach again and this time scaled the largest sand dune in Europe. I wasn't quite sure what to expect, but it was enormous! Sensibly, we ran all the way to the bottom of it 'to see the sea', before realising that what goes down must, of course, go up, and having to trek all the way back to the top. Still, it was a beautiful view and I wore a sundress on the beach in November so I can't really complain. Also checked off the list of 'experiences' has been accidentally stumbling across a bar full of drag queens, one of whom I actually had a great conversation with in the queue for the ladies toilet (which also answered that question) eating more than my fair share of pastries and realising that Bordeaux feels a lot bigger when the trams have stopped running - thanks again, jour ferié. People watching continues to be an enjoyable experience, although like Ella I have noticed that people really do like to shout out the phrases they were taught in primary school when they overhear you talking on the tram. When I get home I'm going to have to start lurking on the tube listening out for attractive French tourists and then shouting 'OU EST LA GARE?' 'QUEL EST LE DATE DE TON ANNIVERSAIRE??' 'EST-CE QUE JE PEUX AVOIR UNE BAGUETTE???' because apparently that's how to pull. 
Anyway, I'm sorry that I'm so bad at keeping in touch - to all my family: I'm alive, I'm well, I'm keeping safe! 
Lots of love and à la prochaine fois. 

The Post Blog.

Ok so I've shamelessly stolen this from Ella's Facebook, but this made me laugh far more than it should because its SO TRUE.

In other news, by contrary, all goes well in France, she myself pleases a lot. I hope that all goes well with you, I have haste for with you to speak. At all the hour, Emily.

Stolen Property.

I stole this from Emily who came with me to play on the beach with the other 10 year olds. We frolicked in the sea until she got engulfed by a wave. Then we saw a jellyfish and though we tried to dissuade it by serenading it with Adele's 'I won't let you close enough to hurt meeeee' I don't think he understood. Good day though!

A Personal Opinion.

Some people may say that France's best contribution to the world has been the spirit of revolt. Some may say it has been the great thoughts of the Enlightenment, or perhaps the dresses designed by Coco Chanel. Others would argue its been a well ripened camembert, a love of pastry, or the deep rooted desire to wear hats indoors. 


My personal opinion is that whilst all of the above have been fine French successes, the thing they should be the most proud of is a particularly jolly snack which has got me through many a breakfast, lunch and dinner in this country. Where else can your breakfast wink at you before you eat it? And don't say Japan.


So here it is, lets all sing the song and rejoice in the power of the BN.