Last night was the last weekly Bible study of the semester for the group of students I've been meeting with each Wednesday night. It was also monumental because I volunteered to lead it. So I arrived early at Le Shamrock, the Irish bar where we meet, having printed out Bible passages and did my usual prep work, of course this time in French. When the others arrived, late, I was actually unsure of whether I was still leading. There've been some changes to the group the last two weeks (almost a completely different group this time) and no one acknowledged that I was leading. So let me confess that not only did I almost up and leave after waiting alone for 15 minutes (it's been canceled before without me receiving word), but, when the bartender listened to our drink orders, I, thinking someone else was leading, ordered a beer. Well, the minute my 1664 was plopped in front of me, in all its golden smoothness, and I had taken a sip, everyone was like, "It's John who's leading tonight." So I guess I'd be rising to the occasion after all.
After cautioning them that I might not understand everything they said, usually an indispensable quality for Bible study leading, I said, "We're gonna do a little Bible study à l'américaine!" And I had them share "high's and low's" from their weeks, although they insisted on "plus et moins." I've said before how reticent French students can be. I was not prepared for them to be hesitant to share with each other about their weeks, but the braver ones pushed the rest of the group to participate and it worked!
"Now, just to make the link," I said, "there are lots of plus and moins in Luke 5:1-11. But I really did this opening activity simply to share a piece of my culture with you." And we jumped into the deeper waters of this passage.
It was the story of Jesus calling Peter to follow him after providing an unprecedented catch of fish to this fisherman and his friends, telling Peter, "Do not fear; from now on you will catch people." Well, the funny thing about French and this passage is, the word for "fisherman" is "pêcheur" and the word for "sinner" is "pécheur," pronounced exactly the same. Needless to say, the following hour and a half was full of humor and constant precision of what kind of fisher/sinner we were talking about.
Just imagine the possibilities (taken from this Bible passage):
"Jesus, I've already sinned all night, but if you say so, I'll lower my nets." (pretty honest on his part!)
"Remove yourself from me, Jesus, I am a fisherman" (duh)
"From now on you will sin for people!" (Did Jesus really say that?)
What made this Bible study really special was our discussion at the end about trusting Jesus when he speaks to us. I asked them, "Is Jesus telling you to lower your nets? Is he asking you to let him into your boat? Is he calling you to leave everything? Is he calling you to follow him?" How is Jesus telling us to put our faith in him in our lives right now? After some truly open sharing from everyone in our group of 7, I encouraged them to continue to support each other in their walks with God, after hearing what's going on in each other's lives.
Then we all went out for kebabs. It was a great way to end my experience with the French Bible study group this semester.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Sunday, December 4, 2011
My new housemate
He's 80 years old. He grew up in East Germany and graduated from high school in the forties. He went on to study physics at college, followed by internship in Leningrad, where I believe he met his Russian wife. Even though his studies of English were cut short by the government, he had to learn it when he started working for an East German company that was developing computers. As he explained in fragments of French clauses, it would have been impossible to translate the vocabulary of English technology into German.
I've never met anyone like this guy. Despite certain similarities he shares with my late grandpa (in age and occupation...and maybe German-ness), he grew up in a completely different universe that I no so little about. I'm so glad to get the chance to meet him, someone who knows what it was like before, during, and after the splitting of Germany.
I was just telling my host mom that it puts things into perspective to hear his story. I don't think I have the right anymore to worry about what I'm going to do with my life after college. Compared to the situation in Germany at the start of the Cold War, there are lots of certainties in my life right now.
I look forward to hearing more about his life in the two weeks he'll be here.
I've never met anyone like this guy. Despite certain similarities he shares with my late grandpa (in age and occupation...and maybe German-ness), he grew up in a completely different universe that I no so little about. I'm so glad to get the chance to meet him, someone who knows what it was like before, during, and after the splitting of Germany.
I was just telling my host mom that it puts things into perspective to hear his story. I don't think I have the right anymore to worry about what I'm going to do with my life after college. Compared to the situation in Germany at the start of the Cold War, there are lots of certainties in my life right now.
I look forward to hearing more about his life in the two weeks he'll be here.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
I passed the DELF B2
Yesterday I took the exam for the Diplôme d'études en langue française (French language study diploma). Not only was this as near as I'll get to a culminating test of all the French I've learned in my life, but I took the test at the Institut de Touraine, where I studied for two weeks at the beginning of this semester, and it was good to reflect on how I've grown this semester. (This is important to note, because, like everyone who's left an American university to study overseas, I have trouble feeling like I've learned anything this semester.)
It started with a reading comprehension test. We read articles about identity theft and online drug prescriptions. I got a nearly perfect score on this section. The funny thing about French is, the more we progress into the 21st century, the more English is incorporated in the language (e.g. internet, meeting, marketing, packaging, timing: these are all standard French words.) And it's not like French were a different language to begin with. Sixty percent of our language is French already. Hardly more than another dialect.
Next was writing, where I composed a fuming letter to a mayor from the south of France, demanding that he not build a 4-star hôtel in my family's favorite campsite. Don't you value the environment, Monsieur le Maire?
Then there was listening comprehension (more internet stuff...i.e. English) and after lunch I had to prepare a presentation on orientation weeks on French college campuses.
After waiting another stressful, nervous hour, I got my results. I passed!
I was so happy, rode the Christmas ferris wheel at the end of the Rue Nationale. There was an awesome sunset that you could really only see as you rose above the city. That and the cathedral, the basilica, the Loire River, and the whole city decorated in Christmas lights.
When I got home and told my host mom I passed she grabbed me and did the kissing cheeks thing (les bises) and exclaimed, "CHAMPAGNE!" Glad it's over with.
It started with a reading comprehension test. We read articles about identity theft and online drug prescriptions. I got a nearly perfect score on this section. The funny thing about French is, the more we progress into the 21st century, the more English is incorporated in the language (e.g. internet, meeting, marketing, packaging, timing: these are all standard French words.) And it's not like French were a different language to begin with. Sixty percent of our language is French already. Hardly more than another dialect.
Next was writing, where I composed a fuming letter to a mayor from the south of France, demanding that he not build a 4-star hôtel in my family's favorite campsite. Don't you value the environment, Monsieur le Maire?
Then there was listening comprehension (more internet stuff...i.e. English) and after lunch I had to prepare a presentation on orientation weeks on French college campuses.
After waiting another stressful, nervous hour, I got my results. I passed!
I was so happy, rode the Christmas ferris wheel at the end of the Rue Nationale. There was an awesome sunset that you could really only see as you rose above the city. That and the cathedral, the basilica, the Loire River, and the whole city decorated in Christmas lights.
When I got home and told my host mom I passed she grabbed me and did the kissing cheeks thing (les bises) and exclaimed, "CHAMPAGNE!" Glad it's over with.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Bike Ride and Theatre
Last Saturday, as predicted, I rode from Tours to the little up-river town of Amboise by bike. My host mom lent me a kind of old bike that belonged, she claimed, to her "voisin" a mysterious neighbor I've never met although this isn't the first time I've used his stuff. I went with my Bucknell friend Josue.
Despite the cold fall weather, the fog, and my out-of-shapedness for the distance of 49.8 kilometers (total), it was a great trip. My favorite part of the ride was when we turned into the forest for a bit of mountain biking (this probably wasn't prudent to do on a junky old bike that didn't belong to me) but it was fun to dodge around the trees and feel the wind in my face. After the forest we got lost (somehow...all we had to do was follow the river), but that gave the opportunity to ask a farmer for directions and then cross acres of farmland on an old dirt road. It was very "pittoresque" and "idyllique."
Once in Amboise, we checked out the castle façade and ate in Da Vinci's gardens. It's a cool little town and they had just decorated for Christmas. It's actually very odd that the French would choose to begin celebrating the day after Thanksgiving. But what may even be harder to understand is that the French actually celebrate Christmas publicly. In a society that forbids wearing crosses and burkas in public institutions, the municipal government puts up lights, wreaths, and Christmas trees on the main streets and blasts traditional Christmas carols (like Joy to the World) from P.A. speakers. Well, I suppose paradox is the essence of church-state controversy.
Speaking of paradox, I saw an important play last night at the "Centre Dramatique." Entitled "Kids," (or keedz) it explored the aftermath of the Balkan conflict through the perspective of nine Sarajevo adolescents who played, fought, and flirted as they tried both to understand the violence that left them orphans and to cope with the first day of peace. It was a heavy play, but with lots of strange songs and child-like dances, and a bi-frontal audience seating arrangement, we were kept from emotionally relating to the characters. This was the goal, as outlined in the program: "to grasp the reality of the war without falling into pathos," to consider the violence, poverty, and destruction from a "distance." This distance was certainly created at the end, when we see the teenagers recreate with great theatricality the horrors of war for "les journalistes de l'Occident" (Western journalists). To me, this threw the whole concept of the play into question. I'm left wondering what Western viewers are supposed to conclude or even reflect on after sitting through a piece like this. I can say, however, that it is as important now as always to wrestle with these issues of ethnic violence and to reconsider the West's response.
Despite the cold fall weather, the fog, and my out-of-shapedness for the distance of 49.8 kilometers (total), it was a great trip. My favorite part of the ride was when we turned into the forest for a bit of mountain biking (this probably wasn't prudent to do on a junky old bike that didn't belong to me) but it was fun to dodge around the trees and feel the wind in my face. After the forest we got lost (somehow...all we had to do was follow the river), but that gave the opportunity to ask a farmer for directions and then cross acres of farmland on an old dirt road. It was very "pittoresque" and "idyllique."
Once in Amboise, we checked out the castle façade and ate in Da Vinci's gardens. It's a cool little town and they had just decorated for Christmas. It's actually very odd that the French would choose to begin celebrating the day after Thanksgiving. But what may even be harder to understand is that the French actually celebrate Christmas publicly. In a society that forbids wearing crosses and burkas in public institutions, the municipal government puts up lights, wreaths, and Christmas trees on the main streets and blasts traditional Christmas carols (like Joy to the World) from P.A. speakers. Well, I suppose paradox is the essence of church-state controversy.
Speaking of paradox, I saw an important play last night at the "Centre Dramatique." Entitled "Kids," (or keedz) it explored the aftermath of the Balkan conflict through the perspective of nine Sarajevo adolescents who played, fought, and flirted as they tried both to understand the violence that left them orphans and to cope with the first day of peace. It was a heavy play, but with lots of strange songs and child-like dances, and a bi-frontal audience seating arrangement, we were kept from emotionally relating to the characters. This was the goal, as outlined in the program: "to grasp the reality of the war without falling into pathos," to consider the violence, poverty, and destruction from a "distance." This distance was certainly created at the end, when we see the teenagers recreate with great theatricality the horrors of war for "les journalistes de l'Occident" (Western journalists). To me, this threw the whole concept of the play into question. I'm left wondering what Western viewers are supposed to conclude or even reflect on after sitting through a piece like this. I can say, however, that it is as important now as always to wrestle with these issues of ethnic violence and to reconsider the West's response.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Church and Yesterday's Walk
Today, at church, the pasteur spoke from Luke 14:25-26. He warned us beforehand that it could be shocking, then he read: "If anyone comes to me and does not hate his father and mother, his wife and children, his brothers and sisters, his brothers and sisters--yes, even his own life--he cannot be my disciple." And then he had us say "Amen," to this verse. Although I'm not completely satisfied with his treatment of this passage (I feel like he watered it down just enough till it was palatable--something I think we do a lot with God's word), it was a thought-provoking message that should prompt lots of reflection. I also just had a good conversation with my Spanish housemate about this verse, I, having returned from church, and she from Mass. She asked what I thought about this verse and I said that I wasn't sure, but that what I can say with certitude is that our lives our about God, not our family or our plans, and that are love for God is so much beyond all other loves. She said that was a good reminder for her. It's been nice to get to know her and talk about faith with her. In other news, she's sharing her culture with us tonight by making Spanish omelets.
Yesterday I walked 12 km up the Loire River to the town of Montlouis sur Loire and back again. The sun was shining all day and the sun was perfectly clear. I wasn't really sure where I was going...I'd driven through this town before but I didn't know how far it was. I just followed a bike bath that stretches along the river. There was a lot to see, the sandy island rivers, the medieval wine towns carved into the cliffs on the other side, lots of families walking doing the same thing as me. My favorite part of the journey was the unexpected turn through a patch of forest. I was feeling tired on my way back, so I lay down in the leaves there for a while and read a Balzac novel I had just started (I'm currently living right around the corner from one of the houses of this great French writer.)
One thing I like about French culture is most people love to walk in woods or sit by rivers and think. It's a very reflective society. It makes it hard, though, to find a place to rest that isn't already occupied. I do feel a sense of achievement in adapting to French culture, even if all I have to do is spend a day such as this one, an introvert's paradise. I did branch out, however, from the introvert mold half-way through, when I got my lunch.
Allow me to break it down: a. I went to a restaurant instead of eating my packed lunch (therefore subjecting myself to human interaction) b. I chatted for a second with the waitress (that is, engaging in small talk) c. I told her I had walked from Tours (i.e. bragging--the typical extrovert pursuit), and if that weren't enough, d. I thanked her for my meal (exhibiting social skills...am I even an introvert anymore?)
On my way back, I was pleasantly surprised to see a long way off the two towers of the cathedral marking my destination for the rest of my trip home. I think next week I'll go to the next town on the river, this time by bike.
Yesterday I walked 12 km up the Loire River to the town of Montlouis sur Loire and back again. The sun was shining all day and the sun was perfectly clear. I wasn't really sure where I was going...I'd driven through this town before but I didn't know how far it was. I just followed a bike bath that stretches along the river. There was a lot to see, the sandy island rivers, the medieval wine towns carved into the cliffs on the other side, lots of families walking doing the same thing as me. My favorite part of the journey was the unexpected turn through a patch of forest. I was feeling tired on my way back, so I lay down in the leaves there for a while and read a Balzac novel I had just started (I'm currently living right around the corner from one of the houses of this great French writer.)
One thing I like about French culture is most people love to walk in woods or sit by rivers and think. It's a very reflective society. It makes it hard, though, to find a place to rest that isn't already occupied. I do feel a sense of achievement in adapting to French culture, even if all I have to do is spend a day such as this one, an introvert's paradise. I did branch out, however, from the introvert mold half-way through, when I got my lunch.
Allow me to break it down: a. I went to a restaurant instead of eating my packed lunch (therefore subjecting myself to human interaction) b. I chatted for a second with the waitress (that is, engaging in small talk) c. I told her I had walked from Tours (i.e. bragging--the typical extrovert pursuit), and if that weren't enough, d. I thanked her for my meal (exhibiting social skills...am I even an introvert anymore?)
On my way back, I was pleasantly surprised to see a long way off the two towers of the cathedral marking my destination for the rest of my trip home. I think next week I'll go to the next town on the river, this time by bike.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Paris encore
I went to Paris again last weekend and had an amazing time. Here are some highlights.
- I didn't know much about the Norwegian artist Edvard Munch, but there's a special exhibition of his work right now at the Centre Pompidou, a large modern art museum famous for its architecture (with most of its piping/structural support on the outside of the building). The exhibit was called "Edvard Munch, a Modern Eye," and it featured a number of devastatingly captivating paintings and lots of auto-photographes. I started drawing/sketching this weekend, largely because I was so inspired by the theatricality of Munch's work.
In other news, the French pronounce his name like the word monk. And I don't know if I've said this before, but the Starry Night Dutch painter is pronounced van gogg, or vang gongg, if you're provençal.
- My hostel in Montmartre. A lot of people say that this neighborhood is one of the most dirty and touristy in Paris, and I never understood this till this weekend, where I ventured near the Moulin Rouge etc. The hostel I usually stay at in Paris, though, is situated in a quiet quarter, with lots of boulangeries and cafés, and at night you can see lots of locals returning home, climbing the giant staircases with their kids in hand. I also got to look down from my window on the plain of Paris and watch it light up for the night.
- I returned to the Musée de l'Organgerie, which has beautiful rooms with long panels of Monet's paintings of lily pads, water, and leaves. Everything is peaceful here. The rest of the museum has some powerful art as well. I was deeply touched two and half years ago by some of the art there. On my return to England when I was nineteen, I wrote these lines about my experience:
...the vamping strokes of pavement soft as two
who, naked, counter coldly in their arms,
are looks, impressions, where dead love once grew
and curled a town above the streets alarms.
The naked lovers were in fact imagined/interpreted by Picasso (didn't realize this before) and the dizzying self-liberating cities were depicted by Soutine. Although the transformative effect wasn't the same this time around, it was good to remember and reflect.
- Laina. I saw a good friend from Bucknell too. It was great to talk and catch up, to explore new parts of the the city together, le cimitière Père-Lachaise (where Chopin is buried, among many other famous people), and return to favorite places, like the jazz club Caveau de la Huchette, which featured a smooth dixieland band.
I only have a month left in France. I'll try to post more as I make the most of the rest of my time.
- I didn't know much about the Norwegian artist Edvard Munch, but there's a special exhibition of his work right now at the Centre Pompidou, a large modern art museum famous for its architecture (with most of its piping/structural support on the outside of the building). The exhibit was called "Edvard Munch, a Modern Eye," and it featured a number of devastatingly captivating paintings and lots of auto-photographes. I started drawing/sketching this weekend, largely because I was so inspired by the theatricality of Munch's work.
In other news, the French pronounce his name like the word monk. And I don't know if I've said this before, but the Starry Night Dutch painter is pronounced van gogg, or vang gongg, if you're provençal.
- My hostel in Montmartre. A lot of people say that this neighborhood is one of the most dirty and touristy in Paris, and I never understood this till this weekend, where I ventured near the Moulin Rouge etc. The hostel I usually stay at in Paris, though, is situated in a quiet quarter, with lots of boulangeries and cafés, and at night you can see lots of locals returning home, climbing the giant staircases with their kids in hand. I also got to look down from my window on the plain of Paris and watch it light up for the night.
- I returned to the Musée de l'Organgerie, which has beautiful rooms with long panels of Monet's paintings of lily pads, water, and leaves. Everything is peaceful here. The rest of the museum has some powerful art as well. I was deeply touched two and half years ago by some of the art there. On my return to England when I was nineteen, I wrote these lines about my experience:
...the vamping strokes of pavement soft as two
who, naked, counter coldly in their arms,
are looks, impressions, where dead love once grew
and curled a town above the streets alarms.
The naked lovers were in fact imagined/interpreted by Picasso (didn't realize this before) and the dizzying self-liberating cities were depicted by Soutine. Although the transformative effect wasn't the same this time around, it was good to remember and reflect.
- Laina. I saw a good friend from Bucknell too. It was great to talk and catch up, to explore new parts of the the city together, le cimitière Père-Lachaise (where Chopin is buried, among many other famous people), and return to favorite places, like the jazz club Caveau de la Huchette, which featured a smooth dixieland band.
I only have a month left in France. I'll try to post more as I make the most of the rest of my time.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
dinner 8/11
Tonight my host mom had a jazz concert to go to, so she left and the other students and me to finish our dinner. Not to say that it's not pleasant when she's there, but whenever she leaves the house we have a rollicking good time. I like to think I started off the festivities by describing what the French word "concert" means to one of the new students across the table: "Elle fait le mosh pit." Another student didn't know what mosh pit meant, undoubtedly perplexed by my suggestion that Madame Saint-Louis could be capable of enjoying music as such, so I got up from the kitchen table to demonstrate with some solo moshing.
Then we tried sharing tongue twisters from our representative languages: English, German, Spanish, Korean, and Arabic. All I can remember from the German one is, "Whisky whisky whisky bisky trixie lixy hisky whisky."
Afterwards, the new Spanish girl Marisol proposed that we play "Telephone." Although I chose something silly to say and have repeated around our circle in each other's ears, the others instinctively chose proverbs from their cultures. For example, my German housemate said, "This wouldn't make sense literally, but we say, 'The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.'" Another good saying comes from South Korea: "Everyone makes mistakes in their life" or literally, "Sometimes monkeys fall from the tops of trees."
When the son of our host mom came home, he told us they call this game "Téléphone Arabe." We decided to call it "Téléphone Faloiz" after our new housemate just come from Kuwait. He was, in fact, the best at this game.
Dinner each night is truly my favorite part of the day.
Then we tried sharing tongue twisters from our representative languages: English, German, Spanish, Korean, and Arabic. All I can remember from the German one is, "Whisky whisky whisky bisky trixie lixy hisky whisky."
Afterwards, the new Spanish girl Marisol proposed that we play "Telephone." Although I chose something silly to say and have repeated around our circle in each other's ears, the others instinctively chose proverbs from their cultures. For example, my German housemate said, "This wouldn't make sense literally, but we say, 'The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.'" Another good saying comes from South Korea: "Everyone makes mistakes in their life" or literally, "Sometimes monkeys fall from the tops of trees."
When the son of our host mom came home, he told us they call this game "Téléphone Arabe." We decided to call it "Téléphone Faloiz" after our new housemate just come from Kuwait. He was, in fact, the best at this game.
Dinner each night is truly my favorite part of the day.
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