Bus-2 Etrangère- 1

Last night I saw peanut butter, right next to a single brand of pancake mix and microwave popcorn: saveurs du monde. These were located on a small shelf above the mexican food. The peanut butter was Skippy, in chunky and smooth varieties. A 12 oz jar went for 3 €65. A little American embassy right in the grocery store.

I finally found the Catholic station on the radio this morning. They were talking about world missionary week and how it was important to make foreigners feel included and welcome in the Eucharistic celebration. Really, they're doing a pretty good job. I feel loved.

The bus was later than I was today! I got to school an hour before my class. I checked my email and pondered my vending machine coffee.

My first class went ok, except I did most of the talking. I guess that's pretty good for a bunch of students who found out just yesterday afternoon that they had to show up at eight. I made them all say their names and the last movie they'd seen (answers ranged from Phildelphia Story to Fight Club), and we played "never have I ever." I was the only one who had never eaten snail and the only one who had ever eaten shark. One girl had never flown in a plane, and three of us had never been to Germany. They seemed to understand English quite well. Or at least, the ones who did managed to translate for the ones who didn't. Five minutes before the end of class I let them ask questions. Have you ever been to New York? Thank goodness I don't have to answer for Bush again! I had pictures ready of my New York friends (I'm saving you for next time, Scyndie).

None of my other classes showed up. I did sit for two periods with Ringo. (on whom I had barged in on earlier engaged in this profound discussion with another English teacher all about accepting one's mortality, in which he made a comment that amounted to "We all want to do something about New Orleans but crying only adds more water." I guess I should have found something else to do, but I figure if they really didn't want me around they would have spoken slow enough for me to understand). I entertained two of his classes by showing them postcards and giving them American slang words like "Bling" and "sweet" and "He was like..." (by the way... please send me other slang word definitions. Complete with definitions. I'm way too square to be teaching teenagers.). But mostly they taught me french slang words.

c'est chaud- it's hard (difficult)
Tu touches en (anglais, football etc)- you're good at___ (but i made the mistake of saying "tu te touches en something" and Ringo was quite amused.)
darasse: big drunken party
gestape: car
bégère: to vomit
kiff: to like something (je kiff tes chaussures?)
les darons (le daron/la daronne)- parents
Bidon: uncool
un thon- (a "tuna") an ugly girl.
( it seems there are a lot of words for undesireable women relating to fish. I asked if it was because all the French men made them feel like throwing themselves in the ocean, and one boy said they'd be doing humanity a service. Then he assured me he was joking. yeah...)

Verlan (slang made from saying words backwards)
kebla- black
rebeu- arab
meuf (femme)- girl

They taught me other words too for various body parts, which I let them record primarily so I wouldn't say them by accident.

I also asked them about peanut butter. Apparently, most had tried it and didn't like it. It's like the American Vegemite! Can you imagine? I'm living in a world where it is inconcievable to eat oysters with coca cola, where peanut butter is despised as too greasy, the reason Americans are so fat...and yet every pizza, mushroom pizza, tomato basil pizza, you name it, whether it says it or not, is topped with diced ham, and people offer you mayonaise with your French fries...

And by the way, sweetie... not that your head needs to be any bigger...but all the French girls think you're cute (and so do I).

So you can't come visit me. Sorry. :)

No, please come.