Winter's Come and Gone, A Little Bird Told Me So

Both of my English teaching stints in Korea are unique, to say the least. Last year, the nationwide EPIK program placed me in a 5,000 person casino/resort town in the beautiful but often cold and bleak Gangwondo mountains. Sabuk is a special place, even warranting a documentary by a female Korean filmmaker. Its radical history correlates with the Gwangju Uprising, which is where I'm at now.

Back in September, I found out my position would not be renewed, which was followed by a frustrating but ultimately great decision to transfer to the Jeollanamdo Language Program. I was happy and grateful for the chance to go back to the States for 6 weeks in between contracts.

I left Korea on a high note, collecting chicken eggs and munching on fresh greenhouse strawberries at the always great Hansol Farm in Namyangju. It was nice to leave on March 1st, Independence Day - spring was proudly announcing its arrival after the long and harsh winter months.

Goats at Toluma Farms

The bridge on the way back to the city

Beans the fat cat

I came home to a week-long warm welcome from my Bay Area, California-based family: aunt, uncle, cousins with a baby on the way, cousin's grandparents and old Boston friends who had migrated to the bright and sunny West Coast. Delicious food, fat fuzzy cats, a hike in the Redwoods, revisiting the Mission and Oakland. The second week of March was a much less certain and secure endeavor: road trip from LA to Houston.

A Berkeley park at dusk

Redwoods hike

In the end, it went off with flying colors. I spent a surprisingly pleasant 4 days in LA - a city I didn't know at all - with my cousin's younger sister, her boyfriend and her adorable house dog and baby kitty. I roamed the pre summer heat LA streets, indulged in vegan food, the beauty of an enormous downtown public library, Venice Beach, Koreatown. Finally, instead of hitchhiking, I rode the train to near the end of the Eastern line and met up with a Craigslister who posted his almost too-good-to-be-true van ride offer from LA to Houston.

Venice Beach sunset

Venice Beach madness

Four days on the road before I was finally back in Houston. Grand Canyon, Albuquerque, Roswell, Carlsbad Caverns. I loved what I saw of the Southwest and would go back there in a heartbeat for an extended stint. Not least for the Navajo culture. That must be the Wild Wild West that still remains.

Route 66 sign at a gas station, somewhere between Cali and Arizona

Looking into the Canyon

Towards New Mexico

As we drove across the New Mexico/West Texas border at twilight, I caught the last glimpses of the magnificent mythical American desert. The trip was also my first introduction to US truck stop culture, complete with cheap showers and sleeping in parking lots. I will never forget my first return Texas meal at a West Texas truck stop restaurant.

Goodbye New Mexico

Hello Texas!

Houston - a place that refuses to get worse as I go back, but only better, more welcoming, more relaxing, more active. I wrote down my grandfather and father's life stories - these are men whom I disagree with on many things but their presence in my life is enriching. Austin - a few days of sunny catching up with an old friend and future travelling companion. The people I saw, the way I saw them, was exactly as what it was supposed to be and I was healed of much past trauma.

Renaissance Festival near Austin

Brother at The Orange Show, Southeast Houston

East Side Social Center bookstore and library, Houston

The night I landed back in California, instead of spending every moment I could with my family, I ended up in a screaming argument in the middle of the Mission District. But sometimes even the most interesting people need to be cut from life, if they are bent on destroying themselves and those around them. Back at the goat farm where a friend worked, with my family in tow, we milked goats, sheep, saw more than one placenta-covered hooved baby in the straw and indulged in deliciousness. I slept in my friend's trailer that night, we reminisced on where we came from, where we are and where we might be going. And then the bus took me to SFO airport and I was again flying far far away.

Even during those spacious 6 weeks, how many missed opportunities for real connections? How many conversations cut short for no reason? How many times I could have listened instead of talked and if I talked, only to ask questions? How many times I valued fleeting acquaintances over my own blood? Yet many said I was much better and I spread positive energy. Many people hugged me, many people enjoyed dancing and one-on-one adventures.

April 15,  I woke up in Korea again. Only to find out that the Boston Marathon was bombed. And so would start yet another series of tragic events all across the US, over which I could only hope to tear my hair out through the intangible Internet. What I wanted instead was to be there holding people, physically and emotionally, as we grieved and shouted and fought together.

I still want that and I wouldn't mind having it right now. But my new southwestern Korean life has taken some beautiful turns of its own.

May, June 2011 - Three Weeks of Greek Mountain Magic

At long last, I have found the courage to gather together my best photos from WWOOFing at Peliti. As I look back on them now, I definitely feel the magic in full force. I can also see things more clearly from distance and time and of course there's quite a bit of sadness. But also the realization that I was pretty self-centered and childish, even during this time. I like to think that I learned about love, generosity, patience and humility during these three weeks through the actions of others. I hope that my mistakes and inconsiderate behavior were not judged so harshly by the wonderful people I met, as I now judge them myself. In any case, I can still say this was (one of) the best experiences of my life, with awe-inspiring natural surroundings, spirituality, delicious food, truly great human beings, dogs, seeds, quiet village life. So so much.

May 16, 2011 I arrived in Mesohori, a tiny Northeastern Greek village in the Rhodope Mountains. 

Of course, it was not quite a smooth arrival, knowing me. I took a 3.5 train ride from Thessaloniki, somehow managed to not get off at the Paranesti station and ride all the way to Xanthi, the end of the train line. I managed to leave a message on my host's telephone and he did pick me up in the evening. I must have been quite busy and awestruck the first day or two, because I didn't start writing immediately. From my first journal entry: 

May 18, 2011
I'm afraid that I will leave this place before I am able to grasp the entire, immense beauty of it all. Today, we planted "Peliti," the Ponti dialect word for "oak tree." Just a few small pots with tiny oaks will grow to become gigantic trees over years and years. Amazing.

Today, we also got the bike going and I am determined to go as far as the thermal springs if I am allowed. 

I am starting to fill up my body with nutrients again - spinach and local rice, salad greens and raw milk. Honey and fruit and walnuts. I am eating just enough to keep me full - maybe I will actually trim down a bit after 3 weeks. 

There is no other time in my life when I will have the chance to live next to old Greek women with whom I can only communicate with short words and gestures.

May 2011 Paris-Sofia Bus Ride II

A stream of consciousness retrospective, from more journal scribbles.
May 9, 2011

9:30 a.m. They turn on a movie, subtitled in Bulgarian!
This is a nearly empty bus, I think I'm the only non-Bulgarian...
we are passing mostly boring countryside, racing eastward on an empty autoroute in France.
11:00 a.m.We start passing more beautiful greenery, less cleared farmland - when will we cross a border? Germany?? Lots of wind farms, I think they are ugly, even if they are "good for the environment" and are they?
249 km. to Strasbourg, so that means the border is still at least 2.5 hours away, putting us there around 2 p.m. This is a part of France I've never seen before, wow!
20 minutes stop around noon, we've now just made the same distance as Boston-NYC, barely a dent in the journey, but it's gone by fast and smooth
The weather is nice and the bus is not too hot, especially with so few people! Will more people get on?
12:30 p.m. We just entered a huge, fancy city! BOURGEOIS CENTRAL...is this Nancy? Metz?...METZ, so it turns out, we are making 4 or 5 stops in Germany/Austria before Sofia and the bus keeps going to Burgas! We're picking up people, but it's still a nearly empty bus for now...
Apparently, we're in Germany now, and it's only 1:30 p.m., though I have no clue where in the country. It's been far too long since I've looked at a map of Europe, I feel like I'm in open, unknown space...grateful for the ample amount of stops so far. The dark Bulgarian man next to me is listening to Eurotrash dance music on his laptop, without headphones. He just turned it up, looking to have a party with the beer he just bought. We're driving through some quaint German countryside now and my cell phone has yet to lose service. I am confused! I'm reading the bike journal I bought at the anarchist book store in Houston and it's really been worth the wait, making me determined to rent/borrow/cheaply buy a bike in the East. ça y est, the cell phone is MIA! The man is now taking video of his friends on their journey. Bulgarian seems to have the same intonation as Russian, yet it sounds different and I definitely can't understand it. If it takes (only?) 6 hours to get to the Western border of Germany from Paris, I wonder how long that bike ride would be?
German cities: Uberherrn, Ensdorf, Lisdorf
3:00 p.m. The signs are pointing towards Luxembourg and the dance music is slightly better, as well as the countryside. Suddenly, we're in a huge ass German city, super urban, I don't know where we are! There are tramlines here, that's pretty real...we've started with the American action movies again, subtitled in Bulgarian.
3:15 p.m. So now we are STUCK at this bus terminal of this still unknown German city and I don't have the courage to ask the Bulgarians where we are. We can't get out of the bus either and that's annoying. I'm not sure why we're standing with the bus still running.
3:45 p.m. We're on the road again and I switched seats with a Bulgarian family. I started speaking in French with the Bulgarian dance music man - he is nice and tells me that we may arrive earlier than expected tomorrow, around 19h. He speaks a bit of Russian, but since he has been living in Metz for 5 years, he has forgotten a lot of it.
4:30 p.m. Woohoo, another German bus terminal
5:30 p.m. I am now sitting next to the Bulgarian man, apparently his name is Tiundjel and he has a 17-year-old daughter named Shenay, who only sees on visits back home. Raia, my host in Sofia, later tells me that his name doesn't sound Bulgarian, he's probably Roma or Turkish. Sometimes we have a hard time communicating in French, since his language skills aren't stellar and I don't speak a goddamn word of Bulgarian, basically.
9:00 p.m. The sun is setting, pink and orange over the green landscape. I think we're still in Germany. The Bulgarians have informed me, the silly curious American girl, that we will also pass through Austria, Slovenia, Croatia and Serbia on our way to Sofia. It's nice to find out surprises on the road. The sign just pointed to Munchen and Aubsburg - I guess there will be invisible things in the night. I just finished the bike almanac - a lovely, inspirational read. I've made it through more than 12 hours on a bus, with a dance music and loud children. Maybe I could have avoided this in the front of the bus, but it's kind of funny to interact with these conventional-minded Bulgarians, one who offers me beer and speaks some French, so sits next to me and goes out of his way to be a gentleman.
10:30 p.m. We are in the MUNICH bus terminal! According to the bus placard, this is the last stop before Sofia, which is strange and maybe isn't true. I am watching the Munich metro go by behind the fence on my left. I want to go! There is something wearing about travelling alone long distances after a while. I think I sort of stand out, a lot more than I had expected. I seem to be the only young single female traveller. There is a young straight couple who boarded at the same time in Paris and the girl stares at me strangely, as though she doesn't really understand. Of course, the language barrier doesn't help things, so you can't really tell what people are thinking of sometimes trying to explain. Hand signals need to be read carefully and sometimes I am also not very good.
11:00 p.m. We're about to get moving again. I think if people would quiet down a bit, I could get some sleep with my earplugs, scarf over my eyes and the seat back. It's been awhile again since I've gotten proper sleep. I'm dreaming of 3 weeks of physical labor at Peliti, with restful nights. But I'm going to miss biking!

May 10, 2011
6:00 a.m. We're at the Croatian border! (NO BORDER) They took my passport to stamp it, LOL. For some reason, they check twice. This time, the lady cop come around with a stamp, though I already had one. I slept badly, as in barely at all. I'll try to continue sleeping through the morning. I just missed a photo of the "Welcome to Croatia" sign. It's a beautiful morning, with green hills in the distance.
9:50 a.m. Slovenian border, another document check. So many freakin' stamps in my passport. Now it seems that the bus driver is collecting IDs. Also, I am totally lame and didn't realize that Bulgaria isn't on the Euro, but has its own currency, the leva. Way to travel to a foreign country without knowing a goddamn thing!
10:00 a.m. So apparently, we bypassed Slovenia and now we're at the Serbian border. So many lady cops. You'd think that with all the non-feminist conventional cultures, there would be less women in these roles, but I guess they've increased. Lots of women join police forces - I wonder how they feel working alongside men, probably steeped in sexism? Guarding a border - a seemingly monotonous, bureaucratic job. Their faces are never kind, never someone you'd want to go out for a drink with. These are special kinds of cops, maybe the worst. Apparently the Bulgarian border is supposed to be really nasty.
11:30 a.m. It's still hot and sunny out, maybe it won't rain in Sofia as predicted. Where are my notes from Eastern European Politics Fall 2007 when I could use them? I don't remember the colorful details anymore. It was powerful to be in Prague Spring 2008, but now we're passing through former Yugoslavi and it's like some kind of surreal, alternate reality. We're coming up on Belgrade soon.
11:45 a.m. I asked Tiundjel what life was like for him under Communism and the only real answer I got to my actual question - what do you think of capitalism? - is that the crisis forced him to leave his family, his 17-year-old daughter behind to go to work in France.
According to his story, his wife also left him because of the distance. So I guess no wonder he was happy to talk with a female and to drink - I turned down his offer of a beer though. Sometimes he got slightly overbearing, but still a fascinating person to meet.
Because we don't have enough common language between us to talk much politics - and he says he's not good in this domain anyway - I'm not getting a whole lot of insight but I think he's happy to learn about me. He has never met an American before and he says that people in Bulgaria wouldn't believe him if he said he rode next to one on this bus. He's going home for a month with his small team of Bulgarian contract construction workers. He says he earns 2,000 euro/month in France and he doesn't pay for housing.
12:10 p.m. We are passing through an industrial part now, with Belgrade on our left. I want to go! I can't believe we're passing bu all these cities that I can't stop to visit. Tiundjel's friend can speak better Russian and wants me to meet his daughter, studying in Sofia, at the station. They've turned on another violent movie again, this time in Bulgarian.
15:30 p.m. "Face/Off", with Bulgarian voice-over. We're by Nis and we just passed a sign that points straight ahead to Thessaloniki and Sofia to the East. There are lots of mountains to the right and hills to the left. Nis is a huge, red-tiled roof city at the base of these mountains. It seems to be expanding ever further outwards. Now we've passed the city and entered into more farmland (Stara Plenina).
16:00 p.m. Such beautiful views, everyone gets up to look and I take a video. Really amazing cliffs, a rolling river and train tracks. Tiny villages, farmland, the most beautiful views so far, makes you want to get out of the bus! Signs point continuously to Sofia. Red-tiled slums now or rather poor farmers. Now it's all green plains and hillsides all around - I think we're nearing the Bulgarian border.
17:00 p.m. REPUBLIC OF BULGARIA! Another lady border cop! I guess it's more pleasant to have a good-looking woman walk down the aisle of the bus. She was surprised by my American passport - maybe the only one, or one of few, that she has seen here. I don't see any rainclouds - looks like I get lucky with a nice night.
17:20 p.m. To get across the Bulgarian border, everyone had to get out of the bus and walk through the border patrol. They asked me questions and maybe entered something into the computer - real or just to show their authority? Now I'm wondering if I'll actually be harassed at the French border, but I guess I will deal with that later (yeah, there's no French border back in, but they were quite puzzled with my visa when I was LEAVING France for the last time to go to England. Oh, Europe.) Anyway, the sign said 57 km. to Sofia, so we're getting in a bit early. The placard pointed to Athens and Istanbul - those are really far! We still have beautiful greenery here by the train tracks. The sun is really beating down, casting shadows on the forest. Now it's opening up into a sparsely populated valley on the right. Sofia - 36 km, the first part of the journey is coming to an end.
19h - 19h15 - it's actually an hour ahead here. We're in Sofia. THE END.

Raia met me at the bus station, after my dumb ass spent 15 minutes getting oriented to where I actually was. I was nearly ecstatic to be in Sofia, but I was so tired I couldn't really fully feel it. I had wanted to visit this city for years and as we took a cab down to the center and south, I knew I had finally arrived. I wanted to say goodbye and thank you to Tiundjel, for having chatted with me and let me use his cell phone to text Raia, but I couldn't find him again :( Here's to you, Tiundjel, wherever you are. I am really grateful for your kindness, as everyone else's I've met along the way. I hope I didn't come off as the careless American who just left, but mostly, I wish you the best of luck in your life. It's hard. You don't deserve it. May it get better for you and others like you.

March 2011 - Mint Tea Memories and Souvlaki Imaginings

Marrakech Market

It is now the end of March. My last day of work is April 15. On May 16, I am supposed to start a 3-week long WWOOFing stint in Northern Greece. Afterwards, I would like to WWOOF in Bulgaria until the end of June, at which point I would like to come back to France for a Lille to Paris bike ride, culminating in the beginning of July. Then, the idea is to fly through Iceland to Boston and figure out what to do next in my life.

Essaouira Sunset

    So yes, it's a whirlwind. Morocco was quite the  

    adventure. I traveled with my friend Kristin, a 

    fellow American assistant and she made a good 

    companion, which was important. We got back on        March 3 after 10 days, but it seems like forever ago      now. It was a wonderful trip - what makes a place 

    great is the people and the Moroccans we met are 

    some of the most open, friendly and hospitable 

    folks around. In short, a welcome change from the 

    somewhat reserved coldness of France, though I 

    don't want to down the great people I've been 

    fortunate to get to know in Lille.

We passed through dreary, chilly Paris on Sunday, February 20. We saw the Pompidou Center, ate some delicious falafel (in preparation for Morocco, I guess) and generally got overwhelmed by the constant craziness of this city which I personally can't take for much more than a few days. We spent the night in a charming, family-owned inn in Beauvais, near the tiny airport. We were met at the train station by the family and we really enjoyed the short stint in the country.

In retrospect, I would have hitchhiked or carpooled to Paris, saving a lot of money, if not as much time. I didn't think too hard about this at the time, though, and you have to make compromises/practical decisions when you are travelling in a pair.

Bright and early Monday morning, we rushed to finish our fresh bread breakfast and hurried into the van that drove us through the rain and fog to the tiny airport - resembles a train station. We crammed onto the RyanAir plane and settled in for a not-so-long flight. I talked to nobody, but Kristin sat next to a French-Moroccan woman and her little son, so they somewhat kept her company.

We landed in Marrakech before we knew it, happy to see sunshine and mountains. In France, the controllers barely glance at your passport, but they like to take their sweet time in Morocco so that coupled with exchanging money and waiting for my ridiculously huge backpack put us into the afternoon when we got out into the parking lot. We were met by Abdoul Bouasria, the short, gray and bespectacled father of my Moroccan friend in Lille  - quite the personality! He was our chauffeur for the duration of the Marrakech stint. I really enjoyed the ride from the airport to their house, complete with Arabic radio music, warm sun streaming through the windows and witnessing the insane Marrakech convergence of cars, bikes, motorcycles, pedestrians and everyone in between. This is a very modern city, with all the noise and pollution that one can imagine.

Our three days with the Bouasrias in Marrakech and the vicinity included highlights such as an unofficial tour through the Jewish Quarter, a hike in the High Atlas mountains, a traditional women-only hammam and clandestinely hanging out with 18-year-old Ali and his friends. I say clandestinely because the parents like to keep a tight lid on their son, so he can successfully finish high school and go to university in France. They don't entirely succeed in this aspect, but the dynamic still persists. Personally, despite the delicious food, comfortable bed, free chauffeur and tour guide services, towards the end I felt sort of stifled by these two retired science professors and looked forward to escaping to Essaouira, the blue-tinged Western port.

And escape we did - on a Moroccan, read: non-tourist bus with no AC and random stops on the roadside, on a hot late afternoon. Essaouira is cooler and more relaxed, though certainly not free of hassle by the locals getting in our faces. In fact, we were pursued more doggedly here because we were
no longer accompanied by a Moroccan male so we really faced the gauntlet of men, boys and women trying to sell us everything from housing to cakes to restaurants. Two white females traveling alone - not so much an outright risk as an open invitation to harassment. However, I enjoyed the freedom of
planning our own schedule, which we were sort of deprived of in Marrakech. We stayed two nights in a hidden hostel, a renovated riyadh. The guard who works there is an extremely sketchy-looking Moroccan man, who speaks nothing but Arabic (possibly Berber?) but who was also very sweet and hospitable. I felt bad, as he seemed to be picked up off the street to spend his time roaming around this place and sleeping on a couch. The hostel was halfway empty for some reason, though it was dirt cheap for pretty good accommodation. We were able to spend one full day and two nights exploring Essaouira, taking in a gorgeous sunset over the sea, not-too-hot weather and authentic Argan products from a women's cooperative in the area.

I didn't like fending off the horribly disrespectful men, especially the one who got in my face with selling his cookies and telling me to go back to France, while I was taking pictures of the clear sunset with the seagulls. Kristin didn't believe that I experienced - maybe I was looking extra feminine, with my dress.
 
We left the coast early Saturday morning, spending an entire day in transit. We went back to Marrakech on a tourist bus and from there hopped a train up north to the imperial city of Meknès. After much needless worrying, we were met by Jamel, his friend Adel and Adel's Couchsurfer Christina, another American. We spent a wonderful two nights with these two guys, staying with Jamel's family and being further impressed by Moroccan hospitality. Meknès' medina is maybe not as interesting as Marrakech's but it has plenty of other things to offer. Our first night, we went out with the guys and tried Meknès wine, all while being thoroughly hypnotized by live Berber music. The drumbeats, droning guitar-like sounds and wailing female vocals will never leave my mind. The second night, we smoked quite a bit of chicha at a café and enjoyed existential rants with the guys, while laughing at Lebanese pop videos and saying goodbye to Christina, who left for the desert that very night.

Monday afternoon, we again felt sad to leave but very much looking forward to Fès, only an hour away by train and I believe the crowning achievement of our trip. Northern Morocco is lush, the opposite of the Southern desert, and hills and mountains surround this beautiful imperial city, truly a jewel of this country from what I can tell. We were hosted last minute by Said, whom we only saw at the end of our first evening. We spent the day getting thoroughly lost and frustrated near the medina, searching for and finally finding the Jewish quarter, with its huge cemetery looking over the mountains. I enjoyed walking through it at sunset, with the shining colors lighting up the white tombs and blue doors. We didn't like being ripped off by the cemetery guard, though. What can I say about Fès? Well, just look at the photos. A fascinating, mazelike medina and again, wonderful people. We spent some time with the Polish girlfriend of Said's cousin, who is studying in Spain. A truly multicultural encounter.

Said was kind enough to call his cousin in Tangier, where we spent our last night in Morocco. We were very proud of our ability to hail down a "grand taxi" to the airport the next morning. And just like that, in no time at all, we were back in Paris. Of course, we still had to wait for an hour-long train up north to Lille. As I say, this all seems like ages go. Yet writing about it now brings it back, in all its colorful, mint-tea flavored glory.

If I were to regret something, it would be to not have met anyone involved in the social movement in Morocco, specifically the February 20 uprising. The king came to Marrakech and he was welcomed with essentially a parade in the streets, but that's not the whole picture. There is still burgeoning discontent in this least revolutionary of the Northern African countries and it can't be buried. It is a crime to speak out against the king in public, there's no real social security and women with no jobs have virtually zero protection if they are abandoned by their men, so they end up in the streets - often with their kids. I also liked meeting Adil and Jamel's friend Nabil, an older, soft-spoken, dapper, Western/English-style gentlemen wearing a hat and sports jacket. 

Back in Lille, I have just three weeks left of teaching. I've realized now, towards the end, that I really love my kids. Not that they don't make a mess in my classroom on a regular basis - they sure do. Not because I think I've helped them improve their English - I'm not so sure about that. I guess it's the way their crazy energy and excitement to see me can light up my day, and how their innocence is so outside of the world I inhabit. No doubt about it, I learn as much if not more from them than they do from me and frequently, I wish I could drop the authority figure role and just hang out with them. It's hilarious how the same 15-year old kids who literally get up and walk around my classroom, throwing pens and paper and shouting, still walk up to me and make me laugh outside of class. And I'll never forget Nina, the girl adopted from central Africa who enjoys speaking to me in her brilliant English and who seems to appreciate my presence the most.

The makeshift Food Not Bombs Lille project is on a roll, with Thursday afternoons and evenings dedicated to open-air market leftovers, bread pickup, organic and supermarket chain dumpster diving. Friday is usually cooking day and late Saturday morning/afternoon I find myself in a lively group of five to seven folks, traipsing through the city on foot and on bike, with loads of soup and bread to distribute to people we find in the street. The idea seems to be taken up by other French acquaintances, with added talks of a new squat that might host a "cantine populaire" and perhaps joining forces with an alternative cafe to hold a meal outside its door. All in all, I'm extremely pleased with the progress we've made, which started with an innocent chat over a beer with my friend Marine. I've learned of many other social justice projects here and I continue to go out and get to know as many people as possible. Building a network and integrating oneself into a community is not the easiest thing in the world, but when I think that I've only spent five months total in Lille - with vacation cutting down the time - I can't help but feel like I'm jumping forward in leaps and bounds. 

I've learned SO much, from my housemates, environmentalists, anarchists, feminists, musicians, teachers, students - everybody I've met. I would very much like to come back to Lille this fall, but I haven't been able to find a guaranteed way to do so. I'm looking into a Master's in Linguistics at the local public university, but I'm not sure whether I'll be able to fill out all the dossier requirements on time. It seems that the most I can do is to aggressively pursue assistant renewal, which is definitely not guaranteed. I am trying to keep my head up and look at other possibilities, such as teaching English in Asia, with the view of maybe coming back here next year at the very worst. I figure that everything must happen for a reason and if it works out to stay here, great. If not, something just as wonderful will find its way into my life.

Speaking of wonderful things, I am super looking forward to Greece and Bulgaria this summer. I honestly think it will be a lovely experience for me, which will hopefully push me further in my agricultural/food justice work. I'm sorry to say that I haven't taken out my video camera at all this whole time, though I've collected many still photos. Marine reminded me of this recently and so I say, now is the time. Starting this week, I will start filming the life around me, as I see it. We had absolutely incredible spring weather here this week and I spent some magical moments sleeping and digging in my big garden. Working in the earth is one of the beautiful tangible joys of life and I intend to continue with it for the rest of mine.

 

Holidays 2010 - Four Hilltops and a Spanish New Year

From December 17 - January 1, I traveled to Greece and Spain. I reconnected with and met some amazing folks, saw and learned so many more things than I could possible express in one email. I've tried to express it out loud and it also doesn't seem to work. Suffice it to say, I had no real expectations for this trip and it really went above and beyond what I thought possible.

I was really lucky because I happened to come to Athens the day after two consecutive general strikes which grounded flights. I also missed the heavy blizzards that messed up travel plans in other parts of Europe, especially France. 

Originally, I wasn't sure how long I would stay in Athens and I was thinking of going to Thessaloniki. In the end, however, I stayed because I had so much more to discover and I was incredibly fortunate to have the opportunity to spend Christmas with a Greek family. I ate delicious food, including (vegetarian) souvlaki, chickpeas, homemade Crete salad, cheese pie, etc. I really enjoyed hearing the Greek language for the first time and it may sound crazy but I hope to continue learning! 

Unfortunately, Greece is going through a really hard time, as you all have probably gathered from the news. People, especially those my age, aren't happy to live there because a lot of them feel they have invested time and money into their work and/or education and there's nothing to show 

for it because the job situation is so bad. They want to work and live abroad, also difficult to achieve because that requires money and then they have to leave their families. The austerity measures continue to wreak havoc on ordinary people's salaries and work prospects. That's just one of the many 

things I learned. Of course, none of this stops the Greeks I met from being warm, friendly and fun-loving people - even in Athens, a sprawling metropolis. There is a lot of discontent in daily life, though, and it definitely manifests itself in violent uprisings. I didn't see this in real life, but I saw after effects. The city is covered in political graffitti, more so than I've seen in many other places. There was another general strike and I did go to a demonstration in front of Parliament with someone I CouchSurfed with, but it was not a large gathering. For me, it's just another sign of the failure of the structure of capitalism and modern society, and sadly, it really hurts such a beautiful people and country.

Anyway, my most vivid memories of Athens include stray dogs and cats everywhere, views of the city from four hilltops, long nights out on the town, riding on a motorcycle for the first time, and the beautiful weather...yeah, thanks global warming! :/ ;)

Sort of last minute before the trip, I decided to spend the week after Christmas, including New Year's Eve, at home with my Spanish assistant friend from Lille. Her family lives in Vigo, Galicia, a big port city near the northern Portugeuse border. Before we got there, though, we spent a couple days in the magical middle-of-nowhere Spanish countryside. Her grandmother lives in a village with 400 inhabitants. My first day in Spain went like this: I slept from 5 to 6:30 in the morning in Athens because we stayed out late, I rushed to the airport, boarded a 9 a.m. flight to Madrid, got to Madrid at noon, scrambled to find a bus to Salamanca, found an Australian high schooler who took the bus with me, got to Salamanca around 5:30 p.m., saw some of Salamanca, drove down pitchblack country roads to the village and went out stargazing! The stars are totally clear there, that was really a treat :)

Spain is not doing that much better than Greece, honestly, and on the drive from the central West Spain to Galicia, I got an earful about the Spanish Civil War and a bunch of other history that was super powerful and interesting, from my friend's father. I also saw landscapes unlike any other and I didn't catch them on camera, but they're stuck in my mind. I actually saw more different regions and towns in Spain than Greece, so it was slightly more overwhelming because it was all in one week. I feel extremely fortunate to have gotten this tour and I feel that I got somewhat more comfortable with Spanish! 

New Year's Eve consisted of dinner with the whole family in Vigo, complete with 12 grapes at midnight, watching homemade fireworks and club-hopping until 6 in the morning. I finished by dancing madly to "Common People," which seems to me a really positive start to 2011 :)

I flew back to Lille from Porto on the 1st and by that time, I just couldn't handle Portugeuse, a third language...

Back in Lille, I'm back to work and seeing friends. I already feel better about teaching and making plans for this year. I definitely want to try to renew my contract, but before then, I am committed to WWOOFING, working on an organic farm, this summer. Perhaps Greece so I can continue with Greek! In any case, my main goal this year is to be open to the same level of magic that I got during this 15-day trip and look at everything as a positive opportunity. Whether in France, Spain, Greece, the States, Asia, or wherever, good things can and will happen!

December 2010 - A Northern France Winter

December 2, 2010 

I'm sitting wrapped under a huge comforter in my big, nearly empty room, watching small flakes of snow cover the city of Lille outside my window. For some reason, I felt like listening to Pink Floyd's "The Wall" this morning. I'm supposed to be at an assistants' orientation meeting, but it's normally my day off from work, so I have better things to do. Like plan lessons. So here I am!

I can't believe winter is here already and that the year 2010 is drawing to a close. This has honestly been the most intense, challenging, rewarding and in some ways, most joyous year I've ever had. I remember how it started - in Boston, the snow having fallen all day long on New Year's Eve. (I had arrived just the night before from Houston and it was strangely warm.) An early morning walk to the liquor store, through the nearly silent falling snow. Staying in, cooking and chatting. And then later hopping from apartment to apartment, finally ending up on Litchfield St. in Lower Allston and staying up until 4 in the morning with loads of random and not-so random people. At the time, I was still living in the Cambridgeport house, trying to build up the courage to get the hell out. It was right in the middle of the drama. But, it was a NEW YEAR with new possibilities and I was on a high. I think we listened to Simon and Garfunkel's "Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme" on vinyl. Beautiful.  

And I still had NO IDEA about all the unbelievable, overwhelming things that 2010 would bring. I didn't know that I would finally get the courage to come to a Sunday Food Not Bombs meal in Central Square, in the dead of winter. I had no idea that on a boring day in February, where I didn't leave the house at all, I would fill out the application that would lead to me moving into the Cambridge Coop in May. I didn't even know that my mother would get remarried that month. And that I would see my father get remarried and start a new family at the end of July. That I would get the crushing "waitlisted" email from the teaching assistant program in the beginning of April, forcing me to live in the present in Boston. That I would grow to love my job at Filmmakers' Collaborative so much and stay there right up until the end of August, just a few weeks before leaving for France. 

That I would have an AMAZING 3.5 months at the Cambridge Coop, transforming my life completely. That I would meet people that I may never have met otherwise. That I would become a regular Food Not Bombs volunteer and see the group put on a beautiful festival in the Boston Common at the end of May. That I would go to an anarchist conference and dance through the streets. That I would bike all the way to Walden Pond and swim there three times this summer. And finally, that getting the "you are accepted to the Academy of Lille" email at the end of June would tear me in half and force me to choose...when back after 2009 graduation, I was 100% sure that I wanted to leave Boston.

And now, I'm in France and I have no regrets at all. I did have a bout of homesickness in November, which is always a hard month for me. So many things have gone down in the past 1.5 month, some of which I can't write about here. Some wonderful, some painful, all unforgettable. Over Toussaint vacation, I spent three lovely, spontaneous days in Brussels with another assistant. Brussels is a city worth visiting, worth discovering the secrets hidden behind the EU big ugly building façade. There's Arabic and African neighborhoods, with delicious food and jazz cafes. There is also a cinematheque that shows silent slapstick comedies with live piano accompaniment for 3 euros. There is a GIGANTIC comics museum - seriously, this place is intense. Also, people speak an interesting mix of Nederlander, French and English, all of which are heard in the metros. 

I also went to Paris, which I happily realized is too intense for me. I did finally see the permanent Cinematheque exhibit though, dedicated to Henri Langlois. The weather was beautiful and I enjoyed spending time with Ratasha, her cousin and friend. I even spent some time with my current housemate Patricia, her boyfriend Hervé and his friend - it was funny to go to the Rodin museum for the 3rd time because for them, it was the 1st time!

Back in Lille, I've begun to settle into the teaching regime. It's more challenging than I thought because I have 12 hrs of totally separate classes - some of which I take on by myself - and I spend a lot of time planning lessons, as well as hopping from one school to another, sometimes in one day. One of my goals for the New Year is to become a more effective lesson planner because once I get into the classroom with at least *something* prepared, it usually works out OK. The 3éme 14-15 year olds are pretty tough to rein in - they're ready to get outta there, so they don't want to focus or pay attention to anything you throw at them. The 6éme 11-12 year olds and 4éme 13 year olds are better. Levels of English vary from class to class. For example, I recently saw a 3éme class that knows NOTHING, less than the youngest kids. Makes me wonder about the quality of teaching they're getting ;) What I don't like about taking on small classes by myself is never knowing when to speak French, getting laughed at for my accent/mistakes, and dealing with discipline. Also, at one school, I constantly have to remember when to pick up the kids from outside, when to get them from Study Hall, when they come meet me and which half of the class I'm taking. My schedule varies from week to week and it's difficult to keep track of all the kids, even with the lists I have. Even though I like most of the kids, I prefer the second school where I can concentrate on just teaching the lessons I prepare, which is challenging enough. My referring teacher agrees with me - that system works better. However, now that I'm getting the hang of it, hopefully I can start really improving.

I'm already thinking about renewing my contract next year, but of course, that's not up to me. And I can never be guaranteed a spot in Lille either. There are just so many things that I want to keep doing here - I want to work onstarting a Food Not Bombs chapter, volunteer at a cinema, work on an organic farm in the summer, keep practicing French, etc. etc. Even though it's far off, I can't imagine going back to the States in May and leaving everything hanging in the air. That's what's so tough about constantly moving around like I do: every time I start getting attached to a place/people, I get up and go on to the next place. I would like to actually build a community in Lille, if possible, and as a new person and especially as a foreigner, that really takes time. So I don't have illusions, but I'm trying to be as engaged as I can. Sometimes the assistantship actually gets in the way of that and sometimes I end up spending hours in my house. Which is not all that bad, because I do get to interact with my housemates, but they are out doing their own thing as well. So I plan on spending more time working at a local cafe, which my assistant friend and I just realized has free WIFI! It's a great little alternative coffeehouse/bar, with four floors and tons of events/flyers/fun people hanging around. Even though it can be discouraging, it usually pays off to go out as much as possible and put myself out there - eventually someone responds! 

Christmas Break is coming up in just 2 weeks! First I'm going to visit Ratasha in Athens and then.....????? I can't make up my mind on whether I want to go to Sofia, Bulgaria and then to Spain to stay with another assistant. Or come back to Lille for New Year's? Hopefully I can make a decision soon. In any case, it will be nice to travel again and see some warmer weather for a little while! Who knows what other crazy things this last month of 2010 will bring! :) 

Meanwhile, tonight I'm going to see a concert for free. One of my housemates talked me into joining a "montévideo," which takes a small group of people less than 26 and older than 55 and gets them into shows at the big venue called Aeronef. We get interviewed on camera and it's posted on the website - I'll send a link soon. I have to speak French and it's kind of intimidating, but also fun. The live music scene is alive and well in Lille and that's definitely a picker-upper during these cold winter months. The Vaselines, an old Scottish group, are coming at the end of January!