Scarlett Piantini ’11

My host mother tells me this expression almost every night, little did I know that I would one day actually have an AMAZING dream.

They say that when you dream in a language, it means that that language officially makes part of your subconscious and that your brain is beginning to systematically think in that language. Well, ladies and gentlemen, for the first time in my life I had a dream in French. I remember the first time I had a dream in English, though I have spoken the language since childhood I’d never actually dreamt in English until a few years back. I was terrified. I woke up freaked out because to me it meant I was betraying my mother tongue.

But dreaming in French, WOW. For someone who is craving the fluency of the language as much as I am, that is good news. Of course, the actual dream was unimportant: a simple conversation with my host mom and host brother during breakfast. The important thing is that it was in French, and I didn’t notice it until I was telling my host sister about the conversation and she brought the fact that it was in French to my attention. “Ça y est!,” replied my host mom when we told her the amazing event. So there you go, three months into my French life and I’m dreaming in French. Happy happy happy.

So last Sunday I had my first Sortie Scout, I officially exerted my function as Cheftaine for a whole 22 French louvettes from 9h to 16h of my Sunday. Never mind that fact that yes, I had to wake up early on a Sunday; and yes, I had to cook 1 kg. of pasta the previous day; and yes, I had to wear a uniform that reminds me of my elementary school days with the skirt above my belly bottom. Regardless, it was an amazing day.

The sortie is always composed of mass, lunch, a game, and snacks. So we walked to a park after mass and we cooked with a fire that WE made, well, not me really, then we played an amazing game where the girls learned the values of teamwork through various challenges. It was so amazing to see these 8-11 year olds assembling wood, cutting tomatoes, teaching each other what need to be done to win. The little louvette looks up to the big louvette and the big louvettes all jumped on top of me asking me questions of all sorts. It was a cheerful day; it was worth getting up for.

I must now study for my exam tomorrow, yes, believe it or not, I have an exam. God help me.

A la prochaine!

That I am not. I love my mac, I like the fact that technology makes life easier and it even tries to undo some of the environmental the previous technology did, but I am not into programming or anything of that sort. I am, however, the English practicum teacher of the only school in France designed to make geniuses out of tech lovers: Epitech.

Due to my need for a job, I am now working for Epitech Strasbourg. It is not a hard job, I just sit and speak English with 5-6 students each hour. The trick is finding what to talk about with people who love everything that I don’t. I don’t like maths, physics, sciences…I like letters, politics, and even SOME econ (the basics). Yet I HAVE to find topics that I know about and that will compel each guy, since there is only ONE girl in the entire class, to speak to me in english. Because let me explain something to you, most French speakers do not like English, and most of them are therefore bad at it. I suppose it’s because the French have always disliked the British and therefore reject the language. Unfortunately, it is the English language that dominates and not the French, despite their extensive colonizing, and so any French student who wants to be someone HAS to learn English. Just like I did. Forget that fact that they will NEVER master the pronunciation of the H and R correctly; most educated French just do not like the language as a whole.

So I have to be creative, think outside the box, and LIKE technology so that these guys, who will probably be very rich and powerful someday, speak to me. Wish me luck.

Last Friday, we went to the Tomi Ungerer Museum. The man is a legend in the field of publicity and drawing, he is also very attractive. He is a native of Strasbourg, though he owes his fame to life in New York, so the museum here is pretty well known. If you ask the French who he is, they will probably tell you that he draws children’s books and worked on some major publicity campaigns in New York. That is what I was told and that is what I was expecting when we went there with Malou. That is NOT, however, what I found. The man is talented, his drawing were simply amazing. However, he might be the most morbid artist I have seen in my life. Out of 20 pictures from his children’s books, 15 included someone dying and blood. Yes, they were beautifully drawn, but I would never buy my children that book.

Most importantly, there is an underground floor in the museum with his erotic drawings, NOT NICE. I have never seen woman depicted so degradingly in my life. I am not even going to bother describing one, look it up. The point is that when I asked Malou why a town as conservative as Strasbourg is so proud of him, she said that these ‘erotic’ images are very much a part of French pride. Really? I am not a feminist, but if I see him, I will feel a tad angry with him for depicting women purely as sex objects. On the bright side, the architecture of the museum, like most of Europe, was beautiful. It was a house some 200 years old with a very modern interior, everything white and chic. I can’t say I regret going, but he is NOT going on my favorites.

Last week I experienced the ultimate demonstration of a UNITED Europe. As the first official break of the school year, we are given a week off to celebrate “la Toussaint”, the day when all saints are celebrated/remembered. I decided I wanted to visit a country I had never visited that bordered the Mediterranean; I am just craving the ocean by now. So I went to Barcelona. The first amazing thing about the journey was the price of the ticket: it costs less to travel to Barcelona than it does on average to go from Strasbourg to Paris.

Next was the airport itself, actually built half in France and half in Switzerland. Yes, an actual building on two countries, I was shocked. Last was my arrival in Spain. Once I landed, I was getting mentally prepared to argue with the immigration officer about the fact that my visa IS Schengen, even if it says FRANCE. It just so happens that the French decided to change their rules and not notify authorities. The point is, I did not even notice where immigration was because there were no officers in sight. That is integration right there.

Barcelona itself was just amazing; I liked it so much more than Paris. Not just because people are more ehm…humble? But because the architecture is astonishing, it’s like you are walking in Gaudi’s head all the time. You just walk and walk and walk and you don’t realize that you have walked the entire city until your feet go numb. The food is so cheap, well, cheaper than in France anyhow, and it’s so GOOD. The meats, the seafood…everything. The shops are also a tiny bit cheaper, but my favorite stores like Zara and Mango, which are Spanish, were considerably cheaper. It was the best possible choice for the break.

I had to cut my trip short to go to Paris for a UK visa appointment. I did not have to show my passport there either. The nice part about this trip is that I got to see a side of Paris that is NOT advertised: the banlieues. Well, it was not quite the banlieue, but it was on the northern part of the Seine and I was VERY scared. This made me realize that Paris is in fact, not such a safe city. Beyond the tourist areas there is a whole world of poor minorities struggling to survive. That is not what you think of when you think of Paris. It’s not like New York for instance, you KNOW New York has everything: poor, rich, white, black, blue, anything and everything. You know that there is the Bronx and 5^th Avenue. Well, there are MANY areas like that in Paris as well. So I have yet to visit a French area that dominates over Strasbourg. Which is good, very, very good.

Now we are in ‘la reprise,’ which just means the break is over and ALL must go to normal. I’m supposed to plunge myself into CIEL like Barcelona never happened! On the other hand, Europe is happy this week. Very happy. Twenty years ago today the Berlin wall went down and over 30 heads of state stood under the nasty Berlin fog and rain to celebrate. The radios have been recalling that era non-stop, including Reagan’s “Mr. Gorbachev tear down this wall” speech. In Paris, to intensify the intentions of amity between both countries, they actually built a small wall just to tear it down yesterday at 12 a.m. That is intense. As if that were not enough, tomorrow is the day of the Armistice in France, when the French people celebrate that the Nazi’s got out of France and peace reigned again. It’s ironic how it all happens together and so fast. Twenty years ago Europe was divided in two, and today I can fly from France to Spain without even showing my passport. Magnificent.

I think I chose this title because this act, or however you call it, was the most bizarre thing that I witnessed this week. The show was brought to our attention (Katherine, Malou and I) by our Anthropology and Theatre professor, he considered it an excellent dance options of the season. It is mandatory to attend 2 shows, pick one, and write a final paper about it. So because he was very enthusiastic about this particular show, and because one of my closes friends is finish, I decided we should go. Let it be said that my friend warned be about finish art, rather she told me NOT to go. It must also be noted that my host mom asked me the day before where I was going to watch the show. “A l’Opera?” she said, “No, au Maillon,” I replied. Her face said it all. SO I had plenty of warnings, but I found myself last Thursday sitting there, completely exhausted after a day of internship, classes, and tutoring.

After the first few minutes of a very contemporary dance skit, I spent the rest of the show feeling as I had been transported back to the 60’s and 70’s when half of the world rebelled against society in some very forward ways. That it is: a piece built to denounce some serious social and political matters, such as immigration policies and child abuse. But nevertheless, throughout the show I saw a man’s behind, women’s breasts, an old man crucified on stage…I saw many things I did NOY expect to see that thursday night. Most importantly, the dances were not central to the piece, nor were they strongly used to make a point, they were just there…And tree hours later we left the Maillon. The next morning I could not explain my host mom how the show was, I just told her that neither her nor my host father would have liked it. In fact, they might have even left the show as some people in the audience did. It was only then that she explained why she made that face: le Maillon is a theatre that only brings contemporary pieces that always have an existentialist dimension. It is NOT a place where you will see a Russian ballet, except maybe the Rites of Spring.

So I have NO idea how Katherine and I will come up with 20 pages of a final paper about this extremely bizarre theatre piece, wish us luck.

Professors finally came around giving us a syllabus, mid-way into the semester. It is only NOW that I begin comparing the topics with my notes and realize the chunks that are missing. How I will pass my European Human Rights Convention final ORAL exam is beyond me. God help me. I never thought I would say this, but I do miss Holy Cross. I miss my classes, my professors. I miss thinking. But not so quick, I’m going to Barcelona next week for the break and THAT is certainly something I cannot do back at HC. This year abroad is about experiencing a lifestyle that I built, it’s not about interesting courses. So what happens is that I spend more and more time at my internship and have less and less desire to go to classes. And you must know that I never miss classes, ever. Here…I just might sometime.

So the break is coming up next week and I am leaving France for a few days, even though I have close to zero class work, I do need the break. Like I said, life is intense in the sense that I have the chance to do much more active stuff, like my internship. And I realized last night with my host mom that I’ve been here already for two months. Wow. Time flies. Despite the ‘different’ classes, I have no desire of leaving just yet.

See you after La Toussaint!

This past week was particularly charged with cultural events organized by our one and only Malou. Last Friday we managed, despite the rain and the godforsaken tram accidents that delay the entire system, to go to the Mussee Alsacien. The building itself is far more beautiful than anything inside it, but just going these reminded me of what a truly special city I am living in. When you go the museum and you see the typical Alsatian furniture, dresses and way of life, you really cannot say whether they are German or French. In fact they are both, and I find that truly fascinating. The many cooking instruments for bread were very French, but the heating seats were identical to those I saw in one of Kaiser Wilhelm II’s many castles. Alsace is really a ‘melange’ of both worlds. What I found most interesting is how, despite the change of nationality and language, Catholicism, Protestantism and Judaism have coexisted together for centuries all through Alsace. Except of course when certain kings decided to prohibit certain religions. But regardless, religions here just are, no fuss at all.

This Wednesday we went to what I think is the most unique visit one can make in France: la Cave des Hospices. Allow me to translate: the hospital cellar. Yes, in France, since only 10% of the population was able to pay for medical care in medieval times, people used to pay the hospital with wines that they non-chalantly cultivated in their background. And so we, that is HC students and those from several other American schools, were privileged enough to visit this cave that is hundreds of years old and managed to actually smell the oldest wine in the world ever held in a wine barrel. Oh yes, the oldest. It has only been drunk on three occasions, the end of WWII being the last one. And the of course came my favorite part: the wine tasting. Three glasses of Alsatian wine will make you feel just right 😛 What I love about Alsatian wine is that its clear, because white grapes grow best here, and its bubbly and light. It’s nice and smooth. Something creepy: next to the cellar they had a dissection room, where doctors would have prisoners quietly sneaked out of their cells, drowned in the bridge right next to the hospital, and then used the corps to learn about the human body “because back then we did not have x-ray machines,” as the guide kindly explained. I found it funny because I thought the Nazi’s were pioneers in prisoner experiments that have advanced science beyond believe. Silly me.

Culture aside, I want to share that this week I managed a miracle! I went to office hours in France! I stand firm on my preference for HC education over French education. It took me a week to find the emails of my law professors since the secretary did not have that or their office number.  But I was successful with my theater professor and it almost felt like I was back at HC annoying my poli sci professors for long hours with hundreds of questions. But this lasted about 15 minutes and most of it was about him asking me what Latin country I was from because he could tell from my French accent. Regardless, I succeeded. AND that’s not all. He has a writing workshop once a week! So I am planning on taking his assignment there to get it checked and feel a bit less clueless about the grading system in France. It’s almost like HC….But let’s face it, I am not here for the excellence, organization or dedication of the educational system. I can get my last dose of that next year.

À la semaine prochaine!

The term applies to my new position in the Scouts d’Europe. Before I tell you this story, you need to know that I am NOT into outdoors life AT ALL. As in, I have never lit a fire and I don’t do well in tents. Well, I am not only going to do that, BUT I am in charge of six 8-12 year old French girls for the year.

It all began the Sunday that I went with my host family to the ‘rentrée scout’, which basically means that vacations are over and scout outings begin again. My two host siblings are scouts; it is a family activity of generations.  So as she introduced me to her friends one of them had the lovely idea that maybe I could help out since they were short on leaders, and I naturally said yes. Of course, ‘helping out’, and being cheftaine are two different things. As the day progressed, I took pictures of the ceremonies, especially of my host brother Paul because he was initiating a new stage of the whole scout hierarchy that I do not entirely understand yet. The day was just lovely, while the scouts did their thing, the parents (and I) walked in the woods and stopped in different points to pray for the children. Afterwards we sat in huge clearing for a picnic with tons of families sharing their food. The ceremony ended with a mass out in the clearing where all the scouts participated and sang. It was a really nice day. But I thought the offer was not serious, until a week went by.

A week later we are all having dinner and my host mom tells me she got an email from the female chief inviting me to the cheftaine dinner so that I could chat with them and decide if I wanted to join. Of course I was never pressured into it, I felt honored to be invited and naturally said yes. Then it stuck me: I was going to be cheftaine though I had never done anything remotely similar in my life, we don’t have girls scouts in my country!!! However I want to the dinner and it was so amazing that I could not say no. The girls are so united and nice, these are 18 and 19 years olds who give up their drunken weekends to be leaders among little girls. That means they cannot be seen in the streets with a cigarette and they probably pass on partying the night before a scout outing. I find it admirable. The pictures were hilarious and the videos were even funnier. What is the harm in trying right?

Of course I told them I had never done scouts, though I have had my share of kids in nature (notably my peace summer camp this summer). But scouts in France are different, there is a religious dimension to it, introduced to the children through Kipling’s Jungle Book, and while I am honored, I am scared that I will not be good enough. Not to mention the fact that I am not French. But I am doing it anyway.

Last week we had the parent meeting where they met us and we introduced ourselves. They were all just so grateful that I am sacrificing my time to help the cause, how can I not be happy? I think I will get more than I will give in the end, I’ll speak French, I’ll learn something that is a big part of French life, and I’ll meet very very French people. I do think I am the first foreigner to do this though, and it will definitely be an adventure. So wish me luck!

Anyone who has learned some French history knows that manifestations and strikes are such a big part of their identity that it’s almost a normal occurrence of their daily lives. There was of course the French Revolution, which led to many other revolutions in the world, and from the last century, the strike of 1968. Last year HC students did not go to class because there was a massive university strike. It is just who the French are, and in all fairness, it is a right bestowed by all democracies. Last Thursday I witnessed a relatively small manifestation of farmers. Yes, because Strasbourg is the capital of Alsace and because it was October 1, all the farmers rolled on their tractors into Strasbourg and manifested in all of Centreville (right where I live).

Normally this would have been amusing, and it was, but it was also very inconvenient. It just so happens that that morning I was not aware of the manifestation (my fault for only listening to economic and international news) when I calmly took the tram from my house to my internship at the IIHR. I was so clueless that I did not think twice when I saw trucks and trucks of the French ‘gendarmerie’ around the European Parliament, the Council of Europe, and all the other very important institutions close to my internship. It was not until I left my internship at 12h and I walked (with my injured foot) to the tram stop that I read that ALL transportation was cancelled due to the manifestation. Thus, I had to walk (with an injured foot and ZERO sense of orientation) for almost two hours to get to a tram stop that worked and that would take me to my lovely CIEL classes. I was NOT amused. In fact, I am going to call it the worst experience here so far.

However, it was only awful because I could barely walk and because I was late to my class, not because there was a manifestation. Given that it was all happening in centreville, that is, between where my internship is and where my CIEL classes are, I found myself in the middle of huge tractors with signs that complained about how globalization and the free market are killing the farmers (you don’t say!) Also, I managed to see tons of sauerkraut – a critical ingredient of Alsacian cuisine – being towed by the tractors on the streets. This part was an enriching experience.

It was a very well organized manifestation, the kind I had only read about. Back in my little island you cannot really go out when there are strikes, because let’s face it, if the police don’t function on normal days they cannot be expected to handle a strike. And afterwards, I realized that cutting transportation is really nothing in comparison to how strikes go on in many other corners of the world.

The strike was over at the scheduled time and by the time I left my English student everything was back to normal.

Friday Malou took us to the Modern Art Museum in Strasbourg and I must say it is quite amazing. I have been to some awesome modern art museums (the Tokyo Modern Art Museum being the best so far) and I must admit this one is pretty impressive. The reason why is because Strasbourg is a very traditional city, and the region takes so much pride in their Franco-German history that you would not expect it to also have a museum with Picasso’s, Rodin’s, and Kandisky’s for you to appreciate free of charge. But indeed it does.

This week will be VERY busy for me, and, like I said last time, I will hop on the train Thursday night and visit Geneva for the weekend. So I shall write once again in a week!

A bientôt!

No, life has not entirely become routine yet, but I finally feel like its getting there. A week after knowing what classes I’ll take and where I’ll intern, it feels good to have a sense of repetition in my life. This weekend was certainly similar to weekends at HC: I had much to read. I suppose Poli Sci will be Poli Sci no matter where you study it, and reading becomes as natural and necessary and eating and sleeping.

But, unlike at HC, I look forward to that weekend when I’ll hop on the train and be in a completely different country to experience another European corner if only for two days. So I feel that life will become routine in the sense that I will have classes, an internship, and some work for pocket money, but I’ll be able to do something exciting every few weeks and see more of the world. I love the thought of that: Thursday afternoon at the International Institute of Human Rights and Friday night in Geneva.

On the other hand, writing political science pieces in French is frustrating, I feel like I’m five again and I must learn how to speak properly from scratch. I just keep reminding myself that there is a very good chance that in six months my writing in French will be almost as good as my writing in English. You think? My host parents just say, “ca va arriver”, “it will come.” Well, I hope so.

That is really it for me, since I have a nasty hole on my foot (long story) that disables me from walking anywhere else but the necessary and from going out at night, life right now is about routine. Not the boring kind but the reassuring kind.

Today I feel compelled to write about what has been in my head for past week: classes. Whether it be what classes I take, a class I thought I would love and did not like at all once I took it, a class that I tried randomly and ended up loving…classes in general. The main reason is not just because this was my first week of classes in Strasbourg, but because I admit I came here with the preconceived notion that classes here would never measure up to my classes at HC. I came here convinced that classes would be the one thing I would miss the most from the hill. So for the past week I have been afraid of continuous disappointment, but today, thank God, I see a bright light.

The first few days were awful because the class I was most looking forward to, one that is also part of my self-designed major, was not at all what I expected. Even though the professor is quite amazing, he is an expert in his area and that is well understood by the way he talks, the material itself was not interesting. So I gave up the notion that classes here would not measure up to classes in HC and I tried classes that I did not plan on trying. I searched, and tried, and searched, and today I believe I have my five classes and will even a sixth one.

Do I think classes here are not as amazing as at HC? They are simply entirely different. What I, and probably any student used to liberal arts, do not appreciate is the size of a class. I will never consider a class of 200 to be better than one of 25, even if it’s at Harvard, simply because I don’t have a voice. Luckily for me, the Institute d’Etudes Politiques, which is second best in France, has smaller classes than other disciplines. So yes, I have to sit in one or two classes with 200 other students and will probably never be able to ask a question in class, but I have 2 or 3 other classes with about 40 students and I believe that the size of the class very much affected my preference for that class over another.

What do courses here have that is better? The variety of classes. Naturally, this is a university, not a college, so I can take classes of really specific things like the Human Rights Convention. I thus have the opportunity to learn, dissect, analyze and learn everything about only this convention. That is quite awesome, and it is an advantage to being here.

So I believe that there are ways around the bad things, like class sizes, but it takes an effort. I think when going abroad we will miss the office hours, the student to professor relationship, etc…but it is an experience worth taking because after college I am not sure when I’ll be able to take a class about random, specific and important things like the European Human Rights Convention (mind you that the Court is right here and we can intern in any number of places related to the Convention :P)

This weekend I went to Paris for the first time in my life, so naturally, I have a few things to share. The city is without a doubt beautiful; there is art everywhere. Every building is majestic because it can either be 200 years old or very modern. The people are stylish beyond conception; it really is like a fashion show. Café’s are in every corner and the food is amazing. Not to mention THE things to see in Paris, like the Tour Eiffel, the Arc de Triomphe, Camps Elysees. It is just pleasing to the eye. The Louvre is incredibly BIG, to the point where I spent about seven hours and I only saw half of the museum. And I am not an art critique so I could only stare at a piece in awe. Because I met a friend who goes to another school and is doing a semester in Paris, it was natural to compare between her program and mine.

I am happy to say that I like mine better. Of course, Paris is Paris, it is not Strasbourg, and the Sorbone is no Université de Strasbourg, but Strasbourg is a place that feels like home to me already and I could never see that happening in Paris. Parisians are much too cold for my taste, whereas people in Strasbourg are much more helpful and humble. Paris is ridiculously expensive, to the point where a Café au Lait cost 5 euro. So if I were in Paris, I would be way too worried about money to enjoy my life. Life in Strasbourg is much more relaxed, clean and quiet. Of course, some people adore intense city life, but I did not grow up in New York, and I find that Strasbourg has the perfect mélange of city life and provincial life. So, I am glad that I can escape to Paris every now and then, but it sure is lovely to come back to Strasbourg.