Tag Archives: St Etienne

“Oh LOOK! It’s the AMERICAN!!!!!!!!”

You may or may not have heard that I am participating in a photo exposition in France right now. You may be wondering how this awesome situation came to be.

It all comes back to the cliché, “It’s not what you know, but who you know.”

Well, I know that I am a photographer and that as a photographer, I would love to participate in exhibitions, particularly in France. However, I know also that having the desire alone is not enough. These facts constitute “what” I know.

So how did I move from the want to the do?

It all starts with my vacation back in February/March. On Feb. 26 I sprained my ankle in Nîmes, France and did nothing about it because it was my first day of a two week tour, during which I would be experiencing incredible things, meeting incredible people, and taking WAY too many photos.

So, a little while after I came back to Saint Etienne, I happened to get sick. So, I decided that with my ankle still hurting and my pending illness, that I should take the chance and go to a French doctor. That left me with the problem of finding one…

So, I spoke with the mother of my completely unofficial host family and she made me an appointment at her doctor’s office. To make a long story short, the doctor prescribed me 8 appointments at a physical therapist. Sounds great, but same problem – where do I go?

Well, lucky for me, Cathy (the mother of the family) knew a PT to suggest, and I started to go there.

As it’s a bit awkward to sit in silence with a physical therapist, we talked. Naturally I mentioned I’m a photographer. She then went on to tell me that her husband is the president of a photography association in the town St Genest Lerpt (where the PT office is) and that the group was in the middle of organizing a photo festival in that town! I asked – because if you don’t ask for things, they are less likely to happen – if it would be possible for me to expose as well. She picked up her phone and called her husband to ask. Apparently he said yes and she took my website information and email address. THAT night I received an e-mail from my physical therapist’s husband telling me how much he liked my work and how happy he would be for a young American to take part in the festival!

The opening was this past Saturday. There were some speakers (the mayor, the person in charge of culture, the president of the organization… and some others). Apparently my PT’s husband had told people about me because everyone seemed to know there was an American taking part in the exposition. Every time I meet someone, they seem to know who I am already. It’s weird. During the opening he acknowledged me and the fact that I’m a young American in the exhibition. It was a bit embarrassing. But what’s more, it’s strange to be considered to exotic. Maybe I should be used to it by now, being here for so long, but honestly, most people do not treat me so differently. But now, it is plain to see: “Oh LOOK! It’s the AMERICAN!!!!!!!!” (In French…)

Anyway, other than that embarrassing part, the opening went really well. I had some really great conversations, met interesting people, and got some really nice complements. My favorites: someone told me they wished they had taken one of my photos themselves and someone spoke about how they could see the emotion of my models and also how I felt about the photo/subject. There were some others, but I’m struggling to find a good translation in English. Suffice it to say, I’m feeling quite honored by some of the things people have said.

The other thing that stood out during the opening was a conversation I had with a professional independent photographer who is also participating. We spoke about a lot of things, but most importantly our relationships to photography, such as why we do it, our methods, how we started, etc. and we actually had a lot in common. I have not met many artists in France, so it was a really refreshing experience to meet someone here that thinks exactly the way I do.

Snow + French people = Chaos

So the week before Christmas vacation, there were threats of a “big storm” that was said to yield about 10 cm of snow in the Loire. (10 cm is about 4 inches.) It was “alert orange” which means that it should be bad. And since the school transportation in France does not include large yellow buses, nor is it directed by the school district, but instead includes coach buses organized by some other entity, often the préfecture or réctorat, it’s possible to have school but no transportation. And this is just what happened last week.

As I said, there were threats of a storm and, as we are coming to learn, the French, at least in the Loire, do not deal well with snow. So they decided Thursday night to cancel all the school transportation in the whole département (like a county) for Friday. Well it did not snow one bit. I went to school Friday for nothing because I had no students, as they couldn’t arrive without the buses. This is something about the French system that I just don’t understand. I definitely think it is more practical the way it was for me in NY state – buses organized by the school, so if there is no bus, there is no school. What’s the point of opening the school if the students can’t come? And if the roads/weather is bad enough that the students can’t come, why should the teachers have to risk their lives to come? What sense does that make?

And now for part two:  yesterday.

Yesterday was Christmas, yes. Well it snowed here, and in spite of being used to “a lot of snow” being a few feet, I’d say we got a lot here. It was a few inches in reality, but since people here do not know what to do with snow, it was as bad as if we had had a real blizzard. Granted it was Christmas, I kind of understand why they wouldn’t want to work and go clean the roads, but really it’s a bit ridiculous. People go out on Christmas to be with family. It’s really just not safe that they didn’t bother to clean the roads. They were awful, completely covered in snow, ice, slush and gunk.

First Snowfall

Being that I’m from New York, I’m pretty used to snow. Also, I’m used to people that know how to deal with snow. Well, apparently that is different here in St Etienne, as this week I learned that snow = chaos in the département de la Loire.

Last week we had a slight bit of snow during the night into Friday. So, naturally my bus was blocked and I had to walk into town to the tram, to get to the bus stop for the intercity coach to go to work Friday morning. Obviously I was late since it took a lot longer to get there and I missed the coach.

If I thought that was bad, it was absolutely worse on Tuesday when it was snowing heavily all day and I did not have class until 4pm. Well the snow was certainly collecting and did not seem to be slowing down. I waited for the bus for 20 minutes and it didn’t come. At that point if I had ever caught a bus it wouldn’t have even been worth it with how late I would have arrived. So I called the teacher who’s class I had and he said it was alright, since it wasn’t sure I’d be able to return.

In total we got about a half a foot, but the people here do not know how to deal with the snow. So even though I had no classes on Wednesday, the day AFTER the storm, I would not have been able to get to school because the intercity coach was not running.

In any case, the first layer of snow is quite pretty, so here are some pictures.

(Click on pictures to expand. Use arrow keys to move between images.)

What a day!

Today was difficult.

I had four classes and none of them went as smoothly as I would have liked.

In the first class there were only boys – you can imagine that scenario: 8 to 10 adolescent French boys in a classroom with a 21 year-old female American teacher. That is just begging for trouble.

They were all fairly immature. They couldn’t stop talking to each other, yet they did not have the desire to speak. Their level of comprehension in English is mediocre at best. I’m not supposed to speak French to them, as the purpose of my being there is for them to practice English with a native speaker.

Repeat that scenario about 4 times. Well, I ended up breaking my rule and spoke French. At the time it felt like the only way to get the class moving forward. It seemed to work.

In another class of students – mostly females, also fairly chatty – there was one girl who could not stop laughing. She just kept having fits of laughter. Honestly, it was quite weird and irritating. I later found out she had been out of school for a couple years and that she does the laughing thing often. Our interpretation is that she is having trouble re-adapting to the classroom.

I have now learned that just because a lesson worked perfectly and took the right amount of time in one class, that doesn’t mean it will work for every class. I tried to reuse a lesson, but apparently the classes levels were not at all on par even though they were all in the same grade.

All in all, a tough day.

L’Auberge Espagnole

If you’ve ever seen the movie, “L’Auberge Espagnole” then you’ll perhaps understand a little of how my life is right now…

I’m currently living in France as part of a program through the French Ministry of Education. I am here to teach English to French high school students. The program does not provide housing.

Because of that, I was a little nervous, but in fact I apparently am very lucky.

I followed all the guidelines for what to do before my arrival, including contacting my school and the teacher who is in charge of me. It is through her that I was able to become settled so quickly – where as many of the other assistants are either still looking or have just found their living situations.

In any case, it turns out that I am living with the two other assistants from my school.

Here is the part that resembles the movie: we are all from different countries. It may not have been the Erasmus program that has brought us together, but it is none-the-less a similar situation.

In our apartment, we are an American, a German and a Spaniard, and yet our common language is French, not English, Spanish or German, so that’s what we use together and it really is interesting.

We all get along well and are able to understand each other most of the time. They both speak/understand English at least a little, but it is rarely used…

Being in this kind of setting, even though it’s only been a week, I’ve really started to notice just how “American” I really am, and how being German and Spanish are different from me and from each other. I’ve also re-acclimated myself to speaking French, so now I think in French quite often and when I try to speak English, it comes out as Franglais.

The Journey

Well, I am now fully moved in to my apartment in Saint Etienne, France. I cannot believe it has only been 6 days – I’ve already done so much. But before I get to that, let me tell you about the arduous journey.

Last Sunday, I left my house around quarter past 1 with my mom, dad and sister, after a long night of packing and repacking, and then unpacking and repacking yet again.

We arrived at JFK with plenty of time for my 6:00 pm flight, and upon entry to the terminal I noticed the departure board. I found my flight, but saw something written under the “Remarks” section… “Now 8:30.”

Well apparently the flight was delayed. I went and did the normal business with checking in and after a little time saying goodbye to my family, I got in line for the T.S.A. security checkpoint.

After being second in line at one machine, for probably 10 minutes, the officers finally decided the computer was broken and we had to move.

Eventually I got through, but to no real exciting end – all I had to look forward to for the next several hours was waiting in the airport. Boring.

Finally, about three or more hours late for the original time, we boarded the plane and had another round of waiting – but this time, on the tarmac.

The next morning, we arrived at the Charles De Gaulle airport, just outside of Paris… If the late arrival was not disconcerting enough for me – 9:45 am in place of 7:30 am – I really became stressed upon arrival at immigration when we could barely move due to a huge influx of people needing the “All Passports” section and not “European Union/France.”

By the time I got through, it was already 10:30 or so, and I really became worried I was going to miss my 11:56 train at the Gare de Lyon, in Paris.

I struggled around the airport with my luggage, found an ATM, and then was approached by a taxi driver. Usually I ignore them, but this time was different – so I asked “C’est un vrai Taxi Parisien?” – Do you drive a real “Taxi Parisien”? – because I have heard that people impersonate the Parisian taxi company, to charge more, or perhaps kidnap you.

In any case, the driver was nice and indeed drove a real Parisian taxi, which by the way are not yellow, but black and luxurious. The taxi trip cost me about 45 euros instead of the, maybe 8, I would have paid for the commuter train if I’d had the time.

Long story short, I made it on time, took a long time to get to the train due to awkward luggage, and two trains and a few hours later arrived in Saint Etienne to meet my landlord, who had come to pick me up at the station.

Probably not the worst journey I’ve had, but stressful and difficult none the less, but like I said, I am here and settled, so now it is time to forget that.