Final Post (Finally!)

I meant to make my big final post long before this, but London was very hectic, and then I didn't have internet for a few days, and so on and so forth, so I apologize for the delay.
I left Montpellier at seven o'clock in the morning on Saturday, the 11th. My host mom brought me to the station, and waited with me until the train arrived. I was very grateful for this, because I had been stressed about the possibility of having to navigate the train station by myself. I was going to have to do enough of that as it was.
I managed to get myself to Lille and then across the British border without too much trouble, and before long I was back in London. It was weird. It felt like I had just left.
Suddenly being around a lot of people who were speaking English was weird enough, but I found that actually speaking English was even more bizarre. The words felt strange in my mouth. The fact was that, apart from a few short conversations with my parents via Skype, and the occasional English demonstration for my host mom, I had spoken nothing but French for over two months. Which was a really amazing thought.
My dad met me at St. Pancras train station, and we proceeded to spend three whirlwind days in London, running all over the place and seeing as much as we possibly could. It was a city that I had longed to see for years- to the point where I felt as though I had already been there. It looked... different than I had imagined, probably because I had been imagining some Victorian-age city with castles, and maybe some wizards.  But it was nice, and I need to go back. Three days is a disgraceful amount of time to spend anywhere, especially in London.
Here are some pictures, because I took a lot and geez, it's London.

It rained every day. And I didn't mind. In fact, I think I would have felt cheated if it hadn't.

If you like standing around in a crowd of tourists while being ordered about by cops, go to the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. This was about all I saw.








We also went to the Natural History Museum. It was awesome. I'd explain why it was awesome, but here's a video instead.

Also this.

And this.

This is Kensington Palace. I was here for the gardens, for reasons I'll explain later, but the palace was actually really great too. It featured an extensive exhibit on Queen Victoria, who I mainly know for 1. living forever, 2. being ridiculously obsessed with her husband, and 3. giving hemophilia to most of the ruling families of Europe (most notably Russia's).
So it was nice to learn a little more about her.



I'm a lifelong, die-hard Peter Pan fan (not counting the animated Disney movie. Ew.) so when I learned I would be going to London, my first priority was visiting Kensington Gardens, which is where Peter lived before traveling to Neverland. That was literally all I knew about the gardens. I didn't even know there was a palace there. And I also didn't know that there was actually a Peter Pan statue there- for which I am eternally proud of London. Good job, guys. Five thumbs up.
Unfortunately, when we left the palace it was raining, and grey, and miserable, and completely unsuitable for taking a nice stroll through the gardens. But the thought of leaving London without seeing the Peter Pan statue was out of the question. So I dragged my dad around the park in the rain and, though it took some serious looking, we finally found it. And it was worth every second of the effort.

This is the British Museum. It's basically a huge storage shed for all of the various items the British Empire has... erm... acquired over the centuries. And we were only able to spend about and hour-and-a-half there. This was a bad plan. Chaos ensued.

While in the midst of a sensory overload (and what basically amounted to a history nerd version of a sugar rush), I was somehow able to get some decent pictures.

THE ROSETTA STONE!

THE SPHINX'S BEARD!

A GOOGLY-EYED HORUS FALCON!

PERSIAN ARROWHEADS FROM THE BATTLE OF MARATHON!!!

NEREIDS!

THESE ARE TOKENS THAT ATHENIAN CITIZENS WOULD PUT IN THIS BIG SORTING MACHINE THING TO DETERMINE WHETHER OR NOT THEY GOT TO BE PART OF A JURY. ISN'T THAT COOL?

FIGURES FROM THE WEST PEDIMENT OF THE PARTHENON, DEPICTING THE CONTEST BETWEEN ATHENA AND POSEIDON FOR PATRONAGE OF ATHENS!

THESE SHOULD REALLY BE IN THE ACROPOLIS MUSEUM IN ATHENS, BUT OH WELL.

PERIKLEEEEEEEES!

















After my dad dragged me out of the museum, and I stopped freaking out, we went to Westminster Abbey.

This isn't Westminster Abbey. This is the obligatory picture of Big Ben.

This is Westminster Abbey. It's the church where all of the coronations take place, and where most of the UK's influential people are buried. I found the graves of a lot of really famous people, including Darwin, Elgar, Newton, Chaucer, Dickens, and a whole bunch of royalty. I would have taken pictures, but I wasn't allowed to.

This is Trafalgar Square, featuring Nelson's Column, which I only know because of that one quote in The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

So this was second on my list of must-visits, after Kensington Gardens. Forbidden Planet is a big fantasy/sci-fi/book/comics store, which already would have made it a prime destination for me, but what's really special about it is that it's the store where Douglas Adams had his first book signing ever. The year was 1979 (the year after the store opened) and the book was The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. I think they should put up a plaque or something, but eh. Can't be too picky.

In addition to that, it's a really awesome store, and I could have happily spent several days in there. As luck would have it, we were there the day they were compiling their stock, so parts of the store were closed off, but there was still plenty to see. I ended up buying a Hawkeye trade paperback, and (fittingly enough) a signed copy of And Another Thing... by Eoin Colfer, which is the sixth and final book in the Hitchhiker's trilogy.

And then we rode on a double-decker bus, which was just like riding on a normal bus, but higher up.

The next day we went to the Tower of London, which isn't really a tower at all. It's a fortress, made up of a collection of buildings from different time periods. It used to be a prison for high-profile criminals. Now it's where England stores its crown jewels and ravens.

This is a rack, which is one of the torture devices that they used here. I was sad they didn't have any for sale in the gift shop.

The last person to be executed in the tower was a German spy, during World War II. Apparently he broke his ankle when he parachuted into British territory, so they let him sit in this chair when they killed him.

Then we went to the Globe- a reconstruction of Shakespeare's theater. It's that white building.

The lighting in the picture is terrible, but the building really is a very nice reconstruction.

And here's the real Globe. It's buried under an apartment building.

Yeah. The actual Globe theater hasn't
even been excavated, because of lack of funding. They figured out it was under this building, and they put a nice label on the ground to keep track of it, but that's all.

The Rose theater, a slightly older theater in the same neighborhood, had an only slightly better fate. It was partly excavated, and then the government put an office building on top of it.

And for dinner, we went to a pub. Actually, we ate at pubs most nights. They were really nice, but all of the food was ridiculously heavy.

And then we left the next day, with one flight into Washington, DC and then another one home.

It was, as always happens after long trips like this, very surreal to be back, because it simultaneously felt as though I had been gone for a long time, and as if I had never left.







    I realize this blog has been very sparse, and I feel kind of bad about that. It's partly been laziness, I'll admit, but it's mostly been the nature of this trip, as I think I mentioned before. A lot of my time in France was spent following a repeating routine, and was very rooted in my family- which I'm not going to go into too much detail about on the Internet, out of respect for their privacy. But I do feel like I need to say something about my experience living with them.

 


Left to right: my host sister, my host mom's boyfriend's son, my host mom's boyfriend, my host mom, and my host mom's ex-husband.










     This was my first time living with a host family for an extended period of time, and I soon realized that this type of arrangement had very definite positives and negatives. It meant I got to know them fairly well, and I had their support, and a home-like environment. It provided optimum immersion. There were cats. On the other hand, it created a really bizarre paradox- as I was both a "part of the family", at least temporarily, and at the same time I was a guest enjoying their hospitality. In other words, I was supposed to treat their house as my own, but not really. This put a kind of awkward social pressure on me that I wasn't sure how to deal with, and frequently caused me to hide in my room for a little while, to escape from it. This wasn't my family's fault- it was just the nature of the situation.
I also found that living for this long with strangers created other kinds of tensions. I occasionally felt resentful toward my family- for not paying enough attention to me, for not doing things the way I was used to them being done- and this was just another symptom of the situation. A psychological effect of being away from home for an extended period of time, and dealing with a new environment.
     I did really like my family, though, and am going to try to keep in touch. My host mom was maybe the same age as my actual mom, or maybe a little bit older, and she was very nice. She was easy to talk to- both figuratively and literally. She had a very slow, clear way of speaking that made her very easy to understand. She is an athlete, who rock climbs and hikes and scuba dives, and she loves the outdoors and is very environmentally conscious. She only bought meat that she knew came from well-treated animals, and only bought fruits and vegetables that were grown close to home. She takes issue with society's obsession with buying things, and doesn't have a TV. She is very interested in Buddhism, and tries to live her life in a way that makes her happy.
    She is also, as I think I mentioned, a nanny, and has been for eleven years- which shows just how patient and tolerant she is, considering the fact that I was sick of crying babies after the first week of being there with them. Some of the older (relatively speaking) kids, though, I got to know fairly well, and it was really great for me to have them to hang out with. In the beginning I had an impossible time understanding them, because of mumbling and baby-talk (most of them were still learning French themselves) but as time went on, I got better and better at figuring out what they were saying.
     I also learned a lot of child-care and bodily function-related vocabulary, which is good, I guess.
     I also had a host sister, and the first thing that struck me about her was how similar she was to my actual sister. They're about the same age, they're both artists, they're both very friendly and outgoing... They even have the same foot problem. I really, really liked my host sister, but I didn't get to spend much time with her. She was, as I mentioned, very friendly, and almost instantly seemed comfortable chatting with me, and sharing insights into her life. She has a great sense of humor and a very funny, animated way of speaking. She has a very relaxed attitude toward life and toward school- the latter of which frustrates her mom a bit.
But as I mentioned, I didn't see her nearly as much as I wanted to, and this was because she doesn't really get along with her mom's boyfriend. She would frequently go over to her boyfriend's house, or the houses of various friends, just to get out of the house. I don't blame her for this at all. I just wish I had gotten to know her a little better.
      My host mom's boyfriend actually wasn't around much either. He's a wine consultant (yes, apparently that's a job) and he spends most of his time traveling around the world uh... looking at vineyards and stuff, I guess. In any case, he was interesting in that he knew a lot of random trivia and spoke very good English, but I didn't spend much time with him, and I didn't really mind that.
     The other main people I hung out with were two of my host mom's neighbors, who would come over occasionally to talk and have tea and play Scrabble. They were both extremely nice, and I really enjoyed talking with them. I also learned, shortly before the end of my stay, that one of them is the descent of a Russian aristocrat who had managed to flee the empire before the 1918 revolution. I didn't really have a chance to ask her more about that, and about her family, which I'm really sad about.
      And finally (finally!) you will notice that I called this blog "Teaching(-ish) in Montpellier". This ended up being much more accurate than I'd anticipated, since I did very little teaching. My host mom would often ask me about words and phrases, and I would help as much as I could, and I enjoyed it, but she had a very busy life, and endless things to deal with, and in the end, learning English went to the bottom of the priority list. And my host sister had no interest whatsoever. I tried speaking English with her, but she refused to participate. She wasn't mean about it. She just didn't want to, and there wasn't much I could do to force her.
    So there you have it. Not much teaching, but I did learn a lot- about myself, about France, about people and human nature... and I think my French might have even improved a bit too. It was a good trip, and I'm glad I went, and I'm glad to be home. And I regret nothing.

Leaving

Today was my last day in Montpellier. As always, it was very surreal. My family made a nice little parting dinner for me, and I finished packing. Tomorrow I have to get up ridiculously early to catch the train back to Lille, and then to London, where my dad will be meeting me.
I'm going to do a longer post where I'll reflect a bit on my experiences, but for now, I need to go to sleep. Good night!

The Hitchhiker's Guide to Montpellier

I'M ALIVE!
It figures that, two days before I'm set to leave, I would have one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. The one upshot to a situation that still has me shaking is the fact that I can now check hitchhiking off my bucket list.
Today, I had decided, was going to be my last day in the city center. I felt like I had to take at least one more stroll around all the streets that I'd gotten to know so well over the past few months, and to say goodbye to some of my favorite places, like the bakeries and the comic book store where I had provided such good business.
I set out for the bus stop at around two o'clock, and waited. The bus was half an hour late. I realize now that I probably should have thought a little more about that.
I had a nice time in town, though it was very crowded- clearly the tourists were now arriving in full force. I can only imagine what it might be like in the July or August. A bunch of the shops that I wanted to visit were closed- another sign that I should have paid more attention to- and though it wasn't that sunny, it was very humid. I paid one last visit to the comic book store, and bought myself some macarons from my favorite bakery.
I headed out at around five o'clock, just as it was beginning to drizzle. My host mom had mentioned that there was an extreme sports exposition taking place this week just a few tram stops away, and had suggested that I go check it out. I've never seen extreme sports up close, and so wasn't about to pass up the opportunity.
It was really cool, and really crowded, and people did crazy tricks on bikes and, amazingly, no one died. And I stayed a bit longer than I should have. I wasn't too worried, because I knew the buses ran until nine o'clock, but eventually I told myself that I really needed to go. I took the tram back into the city, then caught another that took me to the bus stop.
It was around eight o'clock at this point, and I knew that this late in the day, the buses only ran once per hour. I checked the schedule, and was dismayed to see that the next bus- the last bas- ran at exactly nine o'clock, meaning I had a long, lonely wait ahead of me.
There were a few other people at the bus station with me, but eventually they all left, and as time passed, I grew more and more worried. What if the bus didn't come? It was, after all, the last bus of the day. And it was getting late. And I was the only person at the bus stop. What if the driver just decided it wasn't worth the effort to stop by and see if anyone needed a ride?
I waited. And I waited. I ate the macarons I had bought earlier. And nine o'clock came and went. And the bus didn't arrive.
At this point it was getting dark, and I was getting really scared. I began to seriously consider whether or not I could survive spending the night by myself at the bus stop. I wondered if there was any way I could walk to the house, before dismissing that as ridiculous. It was much too far (maybe a fifteen minute bus ride), and I didn't know the way. I searched through my backpack, but didn't find my phone. It was back at the house. And I didn't know my host mom's phone number, so even if I could find someone else and borrow their phone, it wouldn't do any good.
I wondered if my host mom had returned to the house yet (she had been at the hospital all day with my host sister, who had a kidney infection) and would wonder where I was, and come looking for me. I wondered how long that would take. The night before, she hadn't returned home until around eleven. Could I sit here by myself in the dark for two more hours, or possibly longer? I began to consider the likelihood of being kidnapped or mugged or worse.
I'm a big Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy fan, and the best piece of advice I've gained from that is: Don't panic. I tried not to panic. It was difficult. I was frightened, and I was helpless. There was literally nothing I could do, and that is one of the most terrifying realizations a person can have. I could panic. I could cry. I could lose it completely. But even then, my situation would not change. So I didn't actually cry. I just waited as it got later and colder, and I wondered if I was capable of hitchhiking. The fact that I even considered this option shows how desperate I was, because strangers frighten me. I trust no one. But I walked up to the side of the road and meekly stuck out my thumb.
No one stopped. I was caught between disappointment and relief.
And then, at maybe 9:20, the tram came by, and a man got off and joined me at the bus stop. He was youngish and dressed in black, and he asked if I had a lighter. I said no. I asked him if there was a bus. He said no. He said that it was a something (I didn't recognize the word) day, and the buses didn't run as late.
I had begun to suspect as much. I allowed myself, finally, to press my hands against my face and acknowledge the fact that I was royally screwed- or at least, I would be, if I didn't do something a little bit reckless.
He asked me where I was going. I told him the name of the village. He said he lived in the next village over. And so, in uncomfortable, broken French, I asked if he could give me a ride.
He said he would have to ask the friend who was coming to pick him up, but that he thought so.
And so we waited for the friend to arrive. The man was very pleasant- he asked me where I was from, and how I liked Montpellier. He told me he was trying to learn English, but that it was difficult, and he asked me if I found French to be difficult too. I found that I trusted him- though that may have been more out of necessity than anything else. In any case, he was short and fairly skinny, and I thought I might be able to take him in a fight if I had to.
I wondered, briefly, if he was lying about the friend, but the fact remained that there were no buses, and surely he had to get home somehow.
And finally, after maybe twenty minutes of waiting, a car pulled up with a man and a woman inside. The guy I'd been talking to explained the situation, and they cheerfully agreed to give me a lift.
I got in the car.
They chatted animatedly throughout the ride, and dropped me off where I indicated- a short distance from my neighborhood. I thanked them profusely, got out of the car, and walked home. It was ten o'clock at this point.
I'm still shaking, and thinking about how lucky I am, and about the fact that I could, right now, still be standing alone at the bus stop.
When my host mom arrived home, about an hour later, she was exhausted from spending the day at the hospital with her daughter, so I didn't tell her about my adventure. She didn't need to know.

Aimless Wandering in the French Countryside

I don't think I've mentioned it, because I've been rubbish at maintaining this blog (more on that later), but I have actually been outside Montpellier several times during the past few months. My host mom really likes the countryside, so I've seen a lot of it. My friend really wanted me to go to Marseilles, but I was taught to say no to peer pressure, so I didn't.
There's not going to be a lot of commentary here, because for once I don't have much to say.

A bunch of the traveling we did was because of my host sister, who is in the process of looking at colleges. She wants to be an artist, and there are a surprising number of art schools within about a two-hour radius of Montpellier. She and my host mom went to take a look at a bunch of them, and brought me along for the ride, which meant I got to stand around awkwardly in in the middle of some really col art classrooms. "Yes, this is my daughter. She's here for the open house. And this is the American kid who follows us around."

This is Carcassonne, a small medieval town about an hour-or-so from Montpellier, with a nice art school and a big castle.

The outside was very majestic and dramatic, and the inside was lined with tourist shops.
Just like most castles, really.

Le stormtrooper- a common sight in rural France.

One of the other art schools we visited was located in Sete, a small port town that's apparently a very popular tourist destination.
But not on the day we visited, because it was cold and rainy.

The city is built on a hill, and the art school was in this really interesting old building at the top of the hill, with lots of stained glass and a big garden in front.

Sete apparently has a very prominent artistic community, and there was graffiti and cool street art all over town.










For Easter (Pac in French) we went to visit my host mom's oldest daughter, who lives with her son and a whole bunch of pets in a tiny village up in the mountains. The mountains are located in the middle of southern France, and are called Massif Central, which either means "Big Middle-ness" or "Middle Big-ness". Either way, someone clearly put a lot of thought into that name.  The drive up was all narrow, twisting roads with sheer drops on the side. It was great.

We didn't do much for Easter. We had lunch (pork, which is apparently traditional. Is it traditional for Easter in the US too? I don't actually know) and then we went for a walk.

That's not, in fact, a giant cotton ball with legs. That is a rabbit on a leash.

This is Pont du Gard, the site of a Roman aquaduct and some really cool nature, where we spent an afternoon.

Guild graffiti  from 1774 on the bridge running alongside the aquaduct.

Eeeeewwww.

I mentioned cool nature, right?
Olive trees are amazing. They're very tough and very resilient, and they have incredibly long lives. According to the sign, this olive tree has been around since 908.
It's over a thousand years old.
Think about that for a minute.

After hanging out at Pont du Gard, we went to visit the Haribo factory and museum. Haribo is a very popular candy brand in Europe, and I've recently started noticing it in the US too, so they have clearly begun expanding their evil sugar empire.

One of the things I like about Haribo (apart from the obvious) is that they're really creative. They make gummies in pretty much any shape you can think of, from fried eggs to alligators to Smurfs.

Either some sort of candy-making contraption, or a Star Wars extra. I'm not sure.

The store. It's even more beautiful in person.