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(197) is today: Thursday, 22 July 2010.
As the title suggests, this is, more than anything else, a bunch of unconnected points I've been wanting to mention.
--My host family has a grandson - I'd say he's about as old as this blog - who stays here at the house during the day. This little guy is the world's most boring baby. He never smiles and never laughs. He has these cheeks that make him look like he's hording a pair of golf balls the way squirrels horde nuts; he knows he can't swallow the damn things, but he doesn't want to spit them out either. The only thing he does that attracts any unique attention is cry. And he does this a considerable amount of the time. When people say that they don't want babies because they do nothing but cry and poop, this is the little dude they have in mind.
--Classes aren't as fun when all you do that week are standardized prep exercises for a French proficiency exam you aren't signed up to take.
--Last night, I went to hear the soft, soothing, yet oddly syncopated music of trio Keith Jarrett, Gary Peacock, and Jack DeJohnette.
--No idea why, but I was craving a Sprite afterward.
--Tonight I'm having a farewell dinner with the CEA group at a local restaurant, after which I'm going to see my last Jazz a Juan concert, featuring Kyle Eastwood (son of Clint) and Diana Krall. Not a bad sendoff on Europe's part, I would say.
--Last item doesn't really work well with the bullet point format, so I'm giving it paragraphs.
When I'm not lost in thought (rare, but it does happen), I tend to look up at the sky. I've done it since I was a kid. And, when I was younger, before I left the U.S./North America for the first time, there was one question I used to wonder. It went something like this: "Is the sky the same in other parts of the world? Like color and clouds and everything?"
The answer's obvious enough in an adult sense - yes - but when kids ask questions like these, the point isn't really to obtain the answer. Well, maybe that matters sometimes as well, but the real reason kids ask those sorts of questions is because finding the answer requires them to do stuff first. The things they have to do for their answers provide knowledge that is almost always more important than the answer itself.
But anyway, of course I'd occasionally see footage on TV or in a movie of natural landscapes in foreign countries. But I wouldn't believe those; this was a question whose answer I had to see for myself. And when I make it to other parts of the world, I look at the sky and am just floored by it for an instant... It's the same, but it's not the same... somehow.
My pithy analysis of the quest for answers better be right, because goodness knows that poor confused answer doesn't justify the effort to search for it.
Even when I got to France in January and the sky was snowy (just like Washington's was), or even when I landed in Marrakesh and the sky was clear blue (not unlike the mountainous western U.S.), I was still amazed.
I think it's because of this fascination with the sky that the following quote from Kingdom Hearts (which is the best video game ever made, as far as I'm concerned) really captures my imagination. I've thought of it a few times in the last several months:
"There are many worlds, but they share the same sky. One sky, one destiny."
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Showing posts with label Juan-les-pins. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Juan-les-pins. Show all posts
22 July 2010
12 July 2010
(171): Orientation
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It's nice to write entries with just one number in the title. More faithful to the movie on which the premise of this blog is based, at the very least. Since this is 4 weeks in one spot, the photos will come later. I will link you to the album whenever I update it.
(171) is Saturday, 26 June 2010.
I spent today acquiring a basic familiarity with my life in Juan-les-Pins [link to map] for the next four weeks. And it really is that simple. I chose the ironic title ("Andy, you're so silly; orientation happens at the BEGINNING of going abroad!") because I'm about to tell you everything you need to know about this place and how one spends time there.
I'm staying in Juan-les-Pins, a smaller... almost neighborhood of larger town Antibes. Both are right on the Mediterranean, on the "Cote d'Azur"* or proverbial "French Riviera." Every year, it is home to an internationally renowned jazz festival called Jazz à Juan. This year is their 50th. Oh, yes.
Antibes, meanwhile, is an older, more traditional town inside fortress walls from a few centuries back. Picasso came here shortly after WWII and had a renewed optimism, evident in his work depicting smiling (you can even tell they're smiling!) mythical creatures frolicking on the beach. Much of this work is on display at the Picasso Museum for which Antibes has become famous. Antibes and Juan-les-Pins are both small (easily walkable) and adjacent, so half the time I think of them as being the same town linked by one square. And both towns are fairly well-to-do.
My classes are at a French school for teaching French as a foreign language. It is called the "Centre International d'Antibes," or CIA. This is not to be confused, however, with CEA, the American program with which I registered. CEA is roughly analogous with the Vassar/Wesleyan Paris Program in terms of function. I signed up through them by filling out forms and such and paying them. They, in turn, take care of my housing with a new host family (stay tuned), signing me up for classes at CIA, and organizing fun little excursions to nearby towns, lunch in the program office, and other cool stuff that we don't have to plan ourselves. That reminds me of the differences between old and new program, however: nowadays, that "we" is exactly 6, not the 40-some-odd on the VWPP. Also, I take no classes with CEA itself, as I did through VWPP at Reid Hall.
So, to help you understand that I'm not spending four weeks solid with five other students and Kristin, the wonderfully kind and helpful CEA on-site staff member, I need to explain the housing situation. I am staying with a new host family. They aren't like my host family in Paris (because, honestly, who could be?), but they are still vey nice and straightforward about little things (as opposed to making a passive-aggressive saga of my sojourn). This couple has a certain professionalism about it, unlike in Paris (ironic?). I think it's because, now that they've retired from owning a restaurant and their kids have moved to other parts of town and out of their multiple-bedroom house, this is their livelihood. Also, a lot of people come and go. My roommate (Tiziano, an easygoing guy from the Italian sector of Switzerland) and I are the only two people out of a maximum of six who have stayed the whole time I've been here so far. But all of the people living there take French language classes at CIA.
Everyone taking classes at CIA seems to be on that come-and-go basis. I speak also of those living at Castel Arabel, the residence hall 5 minutes from my house. It's basically a hostel run by CIA; lots of international students cooking in the kitchen, sitting by the pool, or sitting at the bar watching the World Cup. It's where everybody hangs out, so I occasionally do so as well.
Classes themselves... Every day, from 9-12:20, I have language classes. A few written, listening, and grammar exercises mixed in, but mostly discussion. We take a placement test on our first day, so we all take classes with people on roughly the same level. My level is B2, on a scale of A0, A1, A2, B1, B2, and C1 (with some other class levels mixed in at the lower levels for a more tailored fit: like A1.2). And they haven't offered C1 since I've been here. It's possible to move up or down based on your teacher's assessment during the week. People take classes for varying amounts of time (usually, though not necessarily, increments of two weeks).
It's also worth noting that CIA is not a typical university program by age; people of all demographics show up. For example, my class includes a 42-year-old Danish guy with a family and a Swedish kid who's 17.
It's also worth noting that Claudine, my teacher, is very attractive.
Since my afternoons are free, I usually just hang out in a variety of places. There's the beach, Castel, the air-conditioned local library, wandering around town, or the group activities through CEA.
And the analysis part... So far, I would say this program is better for immersion, since I've met several people who really want to speak French outside of class, but not as good socially, since I don't always see the other CEA kids and I haven't made really close friends with many other people.
I have been writing, however, and not just in this blog. I can see how Picasso found a second wind here.
And it's incredibly hot and humid here. And air conditioning is not easy to come by.
--------------------------------------
In Europe, only the goalie can write footnotes with his hands, so these here are called "American Footnotes."
* That's French for the "Azure Coast," named straightforwardly enough for the water's pastel shade of blue.
It's nice to write entries with just one number in the title. More faithful to the movie on which the premise of this blog is based, at the very least. Since this is 4 weeks in one spot, the photos will come later. I will link you to the album whenever I update it.
(171) is Saturday, 26 June 2010.
I spent today acquiring a basic familiarity with my life in Juan-les-Pins [link to map] for the next four weeks. And it really is that simple. I chose the ironic title ("Andy, you're so silly; orientation happens at the BEGINNING of going abroad!") because I'm about to tell you everything you need to know about this place and how one spends time there.
I'm staying in Juan-les-Pins, a smaller... almost neighborhood of larger town Antibes. Both are right on the Mediterranean, on the "Cote d'Azur"* or proverbial "French Riviera." Every year, it is home to an internationally renowned jazz festival called Jazz à Juan. This year is their 50th. Oh, yes.
Antibes, meanwhile, is an older, more traditional town inside fortress walls from a few centuries back. Picasso came here shortly after WWII and had a renewed optimism, evident in his work depicting smiling (you can even tell they're smiling!) mythical creatures frolicking on the beach. Much of this work is on display at the Picasso Museum for which Antibes has become famous. Antibes and Juan-les-Pins are both small (easily walkable) and adjacent, so half the time I think of them as being the same town linked by one square. And both towns are fairly well-to-do.
My classes are at a French school for teaching French as a foreign language. It is called the "Centre International d'Antibes," or CIA. This is not to be confused, however, with CEA, the American program with which I registered. CEA is roughly analogous with the Vassar/Wesleyan Paris Program in terms of function. I signed up through them by filling out forms and such and paying them. They, in turn, take care of my housing with a new host family (stay tuned), signing me up for classes at CIA, and organizing fun little excursions to nearby towns, lunch in the program office, and other cool stuff that we don't have to plan ourselves. That reminds me of the differences between old and new program, however: nowadays, that "we" is exactly 6, not the 40-some-odd on the VWPP. Also, I take no classes with CEA itself, as I did through VWPP at Reid Hall.
So, to help you understand that I'm not spending four weeks solid with five other students and Kristin, the wonderfully kind and helpful CEA on-site staff member, I need to explain the housing situation. I am staying with a new host family. They aren't like my host family in Paris (because, honestly, who could be?), but they are still vey nice and straightforward about little things (as opposed to making a passive-aggressive saga of my sojourn). This couple has a certain professionalism about it, unlike in Paris (ironic?). I think it's because, now that they've retired from owning a restaurant and their kids have moved to other parts of town and out of their multiple-bedroom house, this is their livelihood. Also, a lot of people come and go. My roommate (Tiziano, an easygoing guy from the Italian sector of Switzerland) and I are the only two people out of a maximum of six who have stayed the whole time I've been here so far. But all of the people living there take French language classes at CIA.
Everyone taking classes at CIA seems to be on that come-and-go basis. I speak also of those living at Castel Arabel, the residence hall 5 minutes from my house. It's basically a hostel run by CIA; lots of international students cooking in the kitchen, sitting by the pool, or sitting at the bar watching the World Cup. It's where everybody hangs out, so I occasionally do so as well.
Classes themselves... Every day, from 9-12:20, I have language classes. A few written, listening, and grammar exercises mixed in, but mostly discussion. We take a placement test on our first day, so we all take classes with people on roughly the same level. My level is B2, on a scale of A0, A1, A2, B1, B2, and C1 (with some other class levels mixed in at the lower levels for a more tailored fit: like A1.2). And they haven't offered C1 since I've been here. It's possible to move up or down based on your teacher's assessment during the week. People take classes for varying amounts of time (usually, though not necessarily, increments of two weeks).
It's also worth noting that CIA is not a typical university program by age; people of all demographics show up. For example, my class includes a 42-year-old Danish guy with a family and a Swedish kid who's 17.
It's also worth noting that Claudine, my teacher, is very attractive.
Since my afternoons are free, I usually just hang out in a variety of places. There's the beach, Castel, the air-conditioned local library, wandering around town, or the group activities through CEA.
And the analysis part... So far, I would say this program is better for immersion, since I've met several people who really want to speak French outside of class, but not as good socially, since I don't always see the other CEA kids and I haven't made really close friends with many other people.
I have been writing, however, and not just in this blog. I can see how Picasso found a second wind here.
And it's incredibly hot and humid here. And air conditioning is not easy to come by.
--------------------------------------
In Europe, only the goalie can write footnotes with his hands, so these here are called "American Footnotes."
* That's French for the "Azure Coast," named straightforwardly enough for the water's pastel shade of blue.
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