Snow

For this naive little Californian, snow is still probably one of the miracles of life that I will never get over. Rain that is solidified, somehow turns into beautiful crystalline structures that are perfect for building ice palaces and spherical aerodynamic weapons of war.
Better yet is the landscape. What used to be all colors of the rainbow suddenly turns white, and everything looks differently. There's that silence, while you walk through the woods, that makes you feel like you are the only living person for miles and miles. It's amazing how different everything is when it's cold, and peaceful. I could walk forever, just reveling at how magical it is, this frozen precipitation. It's hard to imagine that only one week ago I was surfing, on a hot summer's day, drinking beer and watching the sunset in nothing more than a tank top and shorts. It's so hot there right now, I can only imagine how my friends are faring, while I'm reveling in my winter wonderland.

Back to traveling, a favorite pasttime

There is something crazy about traveling halfway across the world in 11 hours.
It’s still amazing to think of how easy it is to get from one place to another.
In 11 hours, one can go from laying on the beach in the Indian Ocean to playing
in the snow in the Swiss Alps. Well, almost. Ironically it takes just as long to
get from Paris to Sankt Moritz as it does to get from Reunion to France.

Getting off the plane, I realized how funny it must be for people from the
island to go to Paris for Christmas. I almost laughed at how bundled up they
were, and how they cringed at the first bit of wind that hit them on the way
out of the plane. You would think we were in the Antarctic or something. I
think I understand better how it must feel, to look at all the somber serious
faces of all the Parisians, all pale like ghosts in their uniformly black
coats. They may be chic, but they lack a bit of well…color. For me, I couldn’t
help but smile as I rode the Metro, and by the time I found my friends, I felt
so happy to be back in Metropole! There’s that comfy feeling of knowing how to
get around, where to find the train station, what to do.

Fete de Caffres

Since Friday was my last day of work, I brought the students paper and markers to make Christmas cards with English sayings, like "Happy Holidays!" and "Merry Christmas!" I asked them what they were going to do for Christmas, and they told me, "Eat, dance, drink!" "What will you drink?" I asked, already dreading the answer: Oh, rum!! and whiskey, 'ti punch.... Really??? I asked, somewhat shocked that my 13 and 14 year old students drank.....but then again, that's not too far from the legal age of 16 I guess. You never would have seen me drinking at that age, that's for sure.

More interesting was when they told me about this weekend. It's the "fete de Caffres," they tried to explain, lost in translation. Since this topic came up in more than one class, all the teachers explained to me that the 20th of December is a very important celebration on Reunion Island because it marks the end of slavery on the island. Reunion Island was used by the French for several centuries as a slave holding pen, more or less, mostly people pulled from Madagascar. Needless to say today Reunnais take the celebration seriously. There are tons of concerts, fireworks, and of course, food and drink.

At first I was unsure how to approach the festival. I'm not black, and my ancestors didn't all have exactly nice reputations, coming from the aristocratic south. However I've learned over time here that instead of feeling awkward and avoiding situations like these, it's best to embrace them, and rather learn from them. As we walked around Vilelle, an old sugar cane factory, we checked out the reenactment of a slave village, wondering what life must have been like for the common slave at a sugar refinery. People presenting the town were really welcoming, and showed us the work the slaves did, and gave us samples of Creole food. Even though it was hard for me to read about the slave owners, and what they did, it was still good to learn a little more about Reunion. Even better were the stories of the escaped slaves who lived in the mountains, running into to town to try to free other slaves from their fate. As we listened to the sounds of drums from the Maloya, or slave music, I thought, what a wonderful way to celebrate the freedom of a people, who are still very connected to their roots after all these centuries.

California

"Merci, beaucoup!" I shouted after the teacher who dropped me off at the bus stop. As I ran off the bus in St Denis, I was hit by a wave of hot, sticky heat. Oh, will this ever end, I thought as I waited in the heat for the city bus. Looking around I almost laughed as I noticed everyone still wearing jeans, addidas runner pants, black long sleeve shirts....I hope I will survive in February!

I made it on time to the conference....just barely. It reminded me a little of a conference room at Lewis & Clark, except smaller, and in a high school. Oh yeah, and I was one of the speakers. Us three Americans had been roped into giving presentations on our "regions" in the US. While Seth tackled New York, Josh had the good fortune of being from Tennessee, which made his presentation more state specific. Then there's me....even though I spent the majority of my life, I can't say I'm 100% Californian anymore. Besides, I know Portland better than any other city on the planet. So, using lots of pictures on a powerpoint, I tried to conquer the west coast....in 30 minutes. Ironically, the best reactions came from the Washington state part, where I showed them where Forks, Washington is, along with a picture from the Twilight movie. Oh yeah, that's right, we've got vampires.

By the time we got to Q&As, I got the same questions as always: "Have you met movie stars?" and my all time favorite, "Are the girls pretty in California?" I love how these boys always ask the ONE girl from California if the girls are pretty there....how am I supposed to answer that one? This time I said, "Well you're asking a girl from California, so you tell me!" He gave no response, and just giggled with his friends, as if they had just told the funniest joke.

Then came the harder questions: Why did you come here? What will you do next year? And which do you prefer, Reunion Island or America? Finally, a girl asked a very interesting question: which region do you prefer in the US? I looked at the boys and thought, Seth and Josh must be very proud of their regions after such nice presentations, I'm sure they will give us good regions why they like their regions best. I was rather surprised when both shrugged and admitted that they liked California best, and that it was the only place they would consider living in the US. I guess it is true that after showing photos to my students of San Francisco, the beach, I find it rather funny that they find California so exciting. The beaches here are just as nice, and the water is way warmer than the Pacific will ever be...but I suppose the grass is always greener on the other side. I guess California is a pretty cool place though, even though I told the girl that Oregon is my favorite region. Sorry to disappoint.

If only my camera wasn't broken...

Admittedly this is good practice for me, trying to explain what I've seen with words as opposed to my usual resort of plastering a photo on the screen and calling it good...

This weekend I got my cultural fix for the century. It's little events like these that remind me that even though Reunion is France, it definitely is a far cry from "Metropole."

Sunday I was at my friends' house when I heard distant drums. Despite the almost 3 months that I've lived here, I had never heard that rhythm before. Sylvain informed me, "Ah yes, today they're having a ceremony at the Hindu temple. They're going to walk across the coals." This is the kind of thing you hear about in books, and you always think that it must be some sort of myth. People walking across coals? really? Doesn't it seem a little too toasty outside to be dancing on top of fire? It was too good to be true, of course we had to go.

As we got out of the car, the procession was heading down the street, incense in full swing, and plenty of scattering of flowers, fruits, and other sacrifices. Each time they turned a corner, more chants were recited, more coconuts were cut with a dangerous looking sword/saber type weapon, and more candles were left behind. We entered the garden of the temple, behind the gate with the rest of the nonbelievers leaving our shoes at the entrance. I stood on a bench with some Creole teens, waiting as they went through all of the sacrifices and preparations of the coals, hoping my knees wouldn't give out.

Before the ceremony started I tried to remember everything I knew about Hindu religion. I will admit I had forgotten most of what I had learned from 9th grade World Civ, which I took over summer school. Oh well, we can't be perfect. At any rate, upon further research later (I went to the library today, since it is the best air conditioned location in St Gilles where you aren't required to buy something), I remembered that the Hindu culture focuses a lot on reincarnation.

According to Hinduism, every time you die you are reborn once more until you learn to be perfectly at one with the universe. Once you reach this state you can finally rest reaching Nirvana, and no longer have to go through the cycle. From what I remember (hopefully somewhat accurately),In Hinduism it is important to make sacrifices, to bring yourself closer to this natural purified state, proving yourself closer to your religion/enlightened state. One way to prove your faith and determination is to walk across coals.

Once the sacrifices were complete (well, almost, after sundown they slaughter two calves), the ceremony began with the priest so effortlessly walking across the coals, I almost didn't realize what he had done until he was to the other side. I was so taken aback, that by the time the first devotee walked across, I still couldn't believe my eyes. As each one went across, you could see different expressions on their faces. Some showed looks of fear, others you could tell were in pain. More impressive were those young men who walked across slowly, with an expression of pride, and almost a sense pleasure in a strange way. The most moving were those who carried their young children across, who either looked excited to be in the middle of show, or afraid, like the one small girl who buried her face in her father's shoulder.

At the end of the ceremony, the sun set, and everyone started dancing to the drum, the men, exhilarated with the feat they had just completed. I walked away in awe, truly moved by the whole process, with the chants, incense, drums, bright colors, and determined faces. This is France. But not completely.

It's amazing how powerful a thing like religion can be. Here on this tiny island it seems to be poking out in all corners. Whether you hike in the mountains, or are driving along the highway, you are bound to come across a tiny shrine to a saint of sorts, called St Expedit. Not purely Catholic, he is called upon in times of danger, and helps those in need, regardless of religion it seems. This island

Salsa culture

One of the best parts about traveling is meeting people from different places and cultures. In Nancy this was always a challenge, because the Lorraine isn't exactly a warm and cozy climate, and people tend to clam up in their shells. I swear it's the cold weather. I tried hard to make friends at the university by sitting at tables alone in the dining hall, read books outside in the courtyard, but alas, these exercises only made me feel lonelier and lonelier. Then, like a beacon through the misty morning, one day I saw the answer: salsa classes on campus! Lucky for me, there are a lot of fans of salsa in France, and Nancy is no exception. Even better, every 10 minutes we had to switch partners, so I ended up meeting a lot of people, as we tripped over each other, laughing about the awkwardness of the entire situation.

So back to Reunion island. Here, as hot as the climate is, it's impossible for people to hide at home, and no matter where you go, you're bound to run into someone you know. Whether you met them at a bar, on the beach, or by asking on the trail, "Excuse me, do you want to pass in front?" (true story!), you feel truly popular.

But I digress. The point is, even here on Reunion Island, salsa has its benefits. It's a form of exercise, you can listen to good music, and you sweat like crazy (ok less of a positive aspect, but still true). The best part is the community. Anywhere I have ever lived, I hunt out the dance culture, because it tends to be a rather tight knit group, where everyone knows everyone, where they dance, when they dance....Sometimes these groups are rather snobby admittedly. For example, in Nancy, if you aren't an amazing dancer, you just won't get asked to dance, ever. In Portland, it depends, but of course, there's that strong pride in the salsa group of being REALLY good. Little do they know that there are better dancers out there....

So Reunion Island has the best community that I have come across thus far in my travels. Not only are they friendly, but they dance with everyone, even if you aren't professionally trained. There are really good dancers here, and they each have their own style. The best part is that they seem to have more fun than the serious faced dancers in Nancy. Last night I couldn't help but laugh with glee as a seriously huge guy directed with expertise and precision another good dancer: a muscular, short guy, who executed spins faster than my eyes could follow. At the end of the song, they hugged and gave each other bisous. I love this island!

End of an old chapter, beginning of a new one

I can't believe that my "sejour" on Reunion Island is already a third of the way over! It seems like yesterday that Carrie and I were discovering the beach for the first time, or eating our first dinner in our cozy little bungalow....

And yet so much has happened. Yesterday I finished my two months at Raymond Verges school. I never thought the students would be so sad to see me go, but I went out with a bang, with 120 chocolate chip cookies. The presents were very thoughtful and unexpected, and the cards were the best. The youngest students wrote me a song, and others signed homemade cards in French, writing me little notes that were really meaningful, as if they had put their whole teenage hearts into the effort. I was rather surprised by how sentimental the whole affair was, and I turned pretty sentimental myself, sad to say goodbye to the 250 faces that said "hello!" to me everyday as I walked by. With a last little wave, I walked away, with a promise to come back and visit from time to time. I'm glad to see that I made an impression. Maybe someday they will become brilliant English speakers, traveling the world, doing amazing things. I wouldn't be surprised in the least.

Happy belated Thanksgiving

I'm trying to think of how long back I have to reach to remember the first time I learned about Thanksgiving. In preschool maybe, was when we started drawing pilgrim hats and making hand print turkeys. Or what about those "history lessons" in elementary school, where the teachers spoon fed us silly nonsense about the Indians helping the poor weak colonists survive, and that they all sat down and ate together to celebrate the harvest. Does anyone know the true history behind Thanksgiving? Time to wikipedia that stuff.

Well bringing Thanksgiving to Reunion Island was quite the affair. What originally was going to be a 7 person dinner on Thursday night ended up being a 23 person event on a Friday evening that lasted until the rain came around 1:30 in the morning. As stressed as I was about being somewhat abandoned by my housemates, who the day before told me they weren't coming at all, what terrified me most was the idea of cooking an entire turkey, with no American support whatsoever. Worse, Dominique and I took the huge bird home, and attempted to shove it into the oven, (it just barely fit), and things started falling apart: the broth spilled into the oven, the turkey leg got stuck on the door, the pan fell....

Dominique yelled in desperation, "This bird terrifies me! I'm just going to cut it in half!!" Fortunately for the turkey Marlene and Yolene showed up just in the nick of time to save the day, with tin foil and expertise that way outshone Dominique and mine....

After 3 days of cooking, and 12 hours of labor on Friday, we had a sort of improvised version of Thanksgiving: "patates douces" instead of sweet potatoes, chicken broth instead of turkey giblets and drippings, red berries with cinnamon and orange zest instead of cranberry sauce....but my friend Sylvain saved the day, when he showed up with two packets of jumbo sized marshmallows. I took the liberty of eating all the pink ones which weren't fit for sweet potatoes. The final touch: Home made, and when I mean home made, I mean completely from scratch, pumpkin pie.

The moment came when everyone crowded around the food, and demanded for an explanation. I tried the best I could, (apparently it matched up with their Wikipedia research), and said, "This is a special holiday where we give thanks for what we have, and cherish a moment with our family." The words rang true enough for me, I could only hope that they would make the food taste good. Sylvain cut the turkey, all the plates were filled, and we ate to good ol' Norah Jones. To my surprise, the marshmallowed sweet potatoes disappeared before the regular ones, and people went back for seconds.

Everyone looked so happy, and I got numerous rounds of applause for no apparent reason, and more compliments on my cooking skills than I have ever had in my life. Everyone was pleased to have a little bit of American cooking in their life, and were pleased to discover that it's not just Mac Donald's that we eat all the time. Finally, we switched the music back to Reunion ciga, and I danced in the center of the circle with one of the dads, showing off my new skills. I owed so much of the meal to Dominique and Marlene, of course, who helped me get the shopping, and cooked with me. Dominique and I were so worried, but we just kept dancing like maniacs in the kitchen, laughing all the way. It was nice to share Thanksgiving with my new friends, new family, and indeed, it was the best Thanksgiving away from home, ever.

Time for a belated update

I know it has been a while since I updated, and I must tell you about one of my highlights on the island thus far - It all happened when I returned to Dominique's classroom, where a student was waiting patiently with a notebook with scrawled out English....which turned out to be questions for me: Miss Laura, have you done a tour of the island yet? Answer: Not yet, but I would like to!
Question 2: Would you like to do a tour with my mother and me?
Answer: Really? (well, that's what I was thinking, no way this could be happening, right?) But the real answer was a "yes," that came out awkward because I was surprised.

Well the big day came, and up came a van, with three girls from my school, plus one mother! It was rather comical to see the girls pull open the door for me, and squish into the back, with their English dictionaries poised on their laps. The girls at this point had no idea that I spoke French, but later on I slipped when we met up with their mother's friends from "Metropole," who had an extended conversation with me about travels, jobs, etc. "AH!! Elle parle francais!!!!" They cried, all shocked, with a look that made me feel like I had just ruined Christmas. But then we all laughed, and they became even more determined to talk in English. Not once did I speak to them in French.

It's moments like these where I feel glad to be a teacher. Sure, in class these students probably don't learn much from what I give them to work with, but it's outside experiences like these that are exciting for everyone involved. I got to see a window into their world, see some incredible places that I hadn't seen yet, and have a wonderful afternoon with 3 13 year old girls who showed me that there are some students who can hold their own in another language, and have the desire and determination to look up every word in the dictionary for 10 hours straight.

Island fever? Not yet!

Before coming to Reunion Island, I had my fears and qualms. Would I be a good teacher? Would I make friends? Would I get restless and want to swim ashore to get off this tiny speck on an island? Well, there's a reason why it's best to show up to a new place without expectations. Sure, I still have my worries about doing a good job (as well I should, it keeps me on my toes), but I still haven't yet hit a case of "island fever," where my head tells me "run away! It's too small!"

And Reunion Island really is small. I laugh about it, but it is ironic how my commute every morning covers over a quarter of the west coast of the island. Or how in one day you can easily do a tour de l'ile, with a hike up to the volcano to boot, and still get home for dinner at a reasonable hour. The best part is what I like to call a "walk around town." I usually make fun of my friends who have lived on the island for sometime, or their whole lives that they know EVERYONE. Even Dominique who claims to hide in her house all day long has to stop every few minutes to say hi to old students, good friends, or relatives.

I went on a walk last night to grab some pizza with my friends, who stopped at the base of our driveway to say hi to friends wandering by (I swear this piece of pavement is where everyone runs into everyone, like magic). I was about to tease them about it, when halfway through my sentence I saw two smiling faces that I recognized from salsa class. Oh, hi! I replied, giving the traditional bisous (one kiss on each cheek, it's very French), just in time to see Jerome, my neighbor, walking towards me. "Salut, Laura, ca va?" Needless to say Benjamin and Joe started snickering. "Now you KNOW everyone, Laura," laughed Ben, as we walked by dozens more of his surfer friends that greeted us noisily in Creole. Well, there are worse things in life. I guess this is what happens when you live on an island.

Hurricanes, volcanoes, and sharks, oh my!

So, the moment we've been waiting for has arrived. At 9 PM last night, the volcano erupted. Before you start to panic, let me assure you that I live nowhere near said volcano, and that the lava will not attack our little bungalow and smother it into burning bits. It's just exciting to think that somewhere on this island something really exciting is happening, and that at least we are nearby. However we haven't noticed smoke, or ash, since today it was raining, off and on, pretty hard.

Which is apparently unusual for November. Rain like that sometimes means that a hurricane might hit soon. Our neighbor Olivier was over again, and as we talked to him about "cyclones" he eyed our bungalow with and expression that made me really nervous. Decidedly we'll end up next door with the girls who have an actual apartment, if anything serious ever happens. I don't think our little plywood shack is up for a good storm. But rest assured, it sounds like most likely nothing serious will happen at all.

I think I'm really enjoying today's weather, admittedly. I still miss the rain from time to time, those cozy days where you can curl up with a book, and some hot tea. My brain keeps telling me that it's time for cold weather, rain, and maybe snow, but my body begs a differ, as we still manage to sweat through all of the rain, with a humidity I've never come across in my life. I think the worst part is knowing, that summer is just around the corner. It's coming, all the locals grimace, and then laugh at me knowingly, as I stand there with this terrified look on my face. Sure, I like it warm, but just how warm are we talking? And for how long? Not to mention all of these terrible rumors that there's no point in going to the beach during the summer, because the water is as hot as the air. You won't feel better at all. "Just look out for the sharks, they love it in the evening when the water is murky." Hmm, this paradise seems to have a little bite in it after all. I'll just appreciate my one relatively cool rainy day, and wait with impatience for Christmas in Switzerland. There are worse things in life.

Ca commence, le travail!

I know everyone's dying to know, how's the job going? Well, to be honest, with only 12 hours a week, it's not exactly what I would call time consuming. But it definitely has its rewards, as well as trying moments.

The most challenging is dealing with the discontinuity. Even though I'm working at the same school all week long, every day, I see 12 classes per week, one hour for each class. In addition, I only work with half of the class while the teacher keeps the other half with him/her. So in the end, I see every student once every other week, for one hour. And this is only for 7 weeks, which gives us a grand total of 3 or 4 hours per student for the year.

Basically I don't know if I'm really helping them to improve their English, but to be honest, our more important job appears to be to spread our culture. The more photos I show of San Francisco, the Sierra Nevadas, or the beach in California, the wider their eyes get. Almost every class someone exclaims, "It is beautiful!" Although admittedly sometimes they mean, "She's beautiful," when they see the photo of my sister. I guess you don't realize how exciting it is for them to hear about California, especially when you see what they have here: beaches, sun, nature. I guess the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, or at least on the other side of the planet. I sure wouldn't mind some cool winter rain right about now, admittedly. The more rain here means the hotter and more humid it gets. This is going to be one crazy November.

How do you spell quadruple trouble?

This is the problem with girls who have big hearts and love cute things....Suzie ran home one night, "Come quick girls!" We ran down the driveway, to discover something...or rather 4 little somethings who were very noisy. That's the moment I finally learned the word "chaton" = kitten. They had been wandering around on our rather busy street, curled up behind speed bumps, just a car accident waiting to happen. Despite all attempts to leave them for their mother to find them, we left them in a box, hoping somehow the mother would show. The next morning as I walked down to the bakery, there they were, huddled up in the cardboard box, snoozing away.

So allez-oup, we went into operation kitten rescue. Little did we know that no animal society would take them yet (they're too young), and that we would end up heading to the vet to buy cat milk, and laugh at the silly bottle feeding method, and of course, watch our hearts break as we named them (of course!) and learned their personalities. Of course we can't keep them, we're leaving in 6 months! But for the moment they sure are absolutely adorable.

While I write this post I'm laughing because my housemate is grumbling about our neighbors. "Get a %*&^ing job, you people." That could be said for a lot of our neighbors actually. It seems to be popular for the 30 something year olds from France to come wander to Reunion, and well, never leave....or do anything, for that matter. But worry not, my fellow humanitarians, because the French government will save them from themselves, or rather feed their bad habits. Of course I can't really complain about Olivier, our neighbor, who has lived here for over 2 years, doing....well...the macarena. He's quite funny at least, and I think Nathalie has completely confused him, explaining how she is my cousin from Texas....he doesn't really trust us anymore.

I've met less Reunionnais who are unemployed. Even the rather young seem to already be in the working world. The other weekend we met teenagers already working in bakeries, stores, shops....Strangely enough whenever we try to meet Reunionnais our age, they are surprisingly absent....

Turns out there's a good reason for that, as their mothers complain about bitterly: all the 20 somethings are in "Metropole," the mainland. Well, that is, those that can afford to. So that leaves a huge gap in the age group here: The really young, and the not so young. And then there's us. The assistants.

Dipavali

Whew, what a weekend. I can't believe how easy it is to just pick up and go somewhere. In thirty minutes, Carrie and I had decided to pack up sleeping bags, food, warm clothes, and hitch a bus to the beach to meet up with other assistants and camp for a night on the sand. You can just grab a hammock, a tent, or a sleeping bag, and sleep anywhere, it's pretty crazy. And with our big group, it's always great fun, although very little sleep involved and a lot of sand in the hair the next day....but we had a good time of it, swimming in the waves, trying not to get smashed against rocks or thrashed in the water. We sadly didn't see any sharks. Maybe next time....

So, despite the sandy beaches, swaying palm trees, French music, Reunion still has it's melange of cultures that I still don't understand completely....

This weekend is a good example: St Pierre is hosting the huge "dipavali" festival (Diwali in English), a Hindu festival that is considered a festival of lights, or the overcoming of evil. The festival seemed bizarre to me: Indian culture on Reunion Island? But it's just like those samoussas on the streets, or those Hindu temples scattered around the island, bright and impossible not to notice.

So we were able to watch the Indian dancing, celebrating Krishna, an important deity, with Rukmini, his first and most important wife. Lots of bright colors, loud music, and of course, spicy and delicious food. Too bad Carrie and I were way too exhausted to stay for the fireworks tonight. Early to bed for me....more creole food tomorrow! This time I'm going to learn how to make it myself. :-)

Nutmeg kills?

One of my favorite parts of the island is the smell. Whenever you walk through the open air markets you smell all sorts of spices, and they are all tempting to buy. Nathalie and I couldn't resist buying tiny sachets of peper, saffron, vanilla, and nutmeg. Little did we know how potent and dangerous some of the spices actually are....

Yesterday Dominique and Marlene piled us into their car to go visit a spice garden down south. The trip was great, we got a chance to stop and visit the lava flows from several years ago. It's always exciting to think that we've got an active volcano on the island. In fact it's been very active lately, they're pretty sure it's going to blow soon....

Anyways, the garden was not only colorful and fragrant, but our guide was very informative. I had no idea that on the island grows a tree that produces four different flavors: cinnamon, pepper, cloves, and nutmeg. Of course we ran into these spices too, only to discover that innocent enough looking nutmeg is poisonous in large doses. Our guide explained that half a nutmeg is enough to kill a man....Nathalie of course was really curious, and asked a lot of questions about nutmeg while we laughed.... Our guide in the end of the tour gave us an extra little tour of how to make vanilla, and sneaked us each a vanilla stalk, which are about a euro a pop. Ooh, we were happy to have this special organic vanilla from St Joseph...

Indiana strikes again!

Before I even thought of working as an English assistant, and well before I knew of the existence of Reunion Island, I read a 17th French book called "Indiana," by a woman who went by the pen name of Georges Sands. It was a crazy book about some Creole woman who lives in France and is married to some fierce military general. At the same time it was rather soap opera-y, with Indiana falling for some idiotic romantic named Raymond, who had already had a love affair with her best friend, but she didn't know it....it gets way more complicated, but the point is, towards the end of the book she returns home to Ile de Bourbon, and the descriptions are amazing, of the tropical climate, the ocean, and best of all, the beautiful jungles with splendid waterfalls.

As soon as I got into the program I looked up Reunion on Wikipedia, only to discover that its original name was Ile de Bourbon....and today I saw that waterfall that I've been looking forward to seeing. We walked there.

Still here

This weekend has been pretty busy, so I haven't had as much time to write. We're on vacation now, for 2 weeks. None of us feel like it's well deserved, as half of the assistants haven't even started working yet, but you can't refuse vacation. So this weekend we had a party on the beach with a dozen or so assistants from anglophone countries.

It was quite the beach, with tons of people playing music, dancing, baking huge pots of creole food over open fires. It's kind of fun to camp on the beach, it's just a free for all public place, where you don't have to reserve a spot, or pay for parking. You just show up, find a place on the lawn, and watch the sun set.

The girls and I decided to wander around and we ran into a crazy group of 18 year old boys having a birthday party. They were so excited to meet American/British girls that they invited us over to their camp to hang out, eat food, have some red wine. I was having a great time watching them fawn over Carrie who had no idea what they were saying, and Nathalie, who was learning Creole insults and using them on unsuspecting teenagers passing by. I was also asking the boys about Creole terms, like how to say, "Hi, how are you?" (Salut, comment il est? - Le la!). In the end, after many "Tu es jolie!" and "Je t'aime," I told them I had a boyfriend, hoping to dissuade them. Didn't work apparently. Their response was, "If he's not here, why not have a Reunionnais boyfriend too?" Right.....

So today Carrie and I went to the beach to meet up with one of her friends, when we ran into a really killer break dance competition. I tried to snap some photos, but I missed the best act of all: a 7 year old girl attempting her break dancing moves, and smiling the entire time. We sat on the beach, waiting for our ten zillionth bus, and as we admired the incredible sky, two whales swam by, jumping and playing as they went, remarkably close to the beach! It was pretty incredible, we watched in awe.

First commute day

Well, today was not the ultimate "commute to work" day for me. First, I'm still trying to figure out the easiest way to get to work (I think I may have finally put my finger on it), and secondly, although the clapping scheme is cute, the buses are somewhat frustrating. True, there are buses to every location I work. That being said, most of them run once an hour, and the word "transfer" does not really exist on this island. What could be a 1 hour trip with a direct bus ride ends up being 3 hours with waiting on all ends.

So this is how my day went today (if you care to amuse yourself, you can look up a map of the island): caught bus from St Gilles-les-bains at 7:18 to St Paul station. Waited for half an hour, transferred buses, got to school in La Possession at 9:00 AM. Spent one hour working on classes, preparing, etc. Taught for two hours (more on that later), took a bus to St Denis and bought 3 samoussas for lunch (really healthy I know). Then a 20 minute bus ride to the rectorat to turn in missing papers, waited for 15 minutes for it to open after lunch, handed said paper in. Now I will get paid by November. Sweet. 20 minute bus trip back to city center, hopped on bus to St-Gilles-les-bains, listening to Bonaparte along the way. ;-) That means, 3 hours of bus transport today with 2 hours of waiting time....when I showed up at the grocery store at 4 PM and ran into my new neighbor Roxie, she took one look at me and said, "You are so spaced out. Oh my god!" Then she continuously laughed at me.

But as soon as I got home, there they were, like good housemates, hanging out on the porch on their laptops, surfing the net. I begged to go to the beach, and by sunset we were there, watching surfers, and picking out boyfriends for Carrie and Nathalie, who think it would be cool to meet a surfer dude who has a car. I hope they do meet someone, then we could get around easier, without waiting hours on the bus...until then, I've got work to do. Lot's of work to do.

A new home, a new adventure

So, it actually happened. Us three adventurous teaching assistants, Carrie, Nathalie, and I, finally found a charming bungalow in coveted St Gilles-les-bains. I asked the girls how long it had taken them to get to the beach the day they came to check out the place, and they told me 6 minutes...and they got lost. Needless to say, we're not far. And if you walk down our decently long driveway, across the street is a nightclub that hosts salsa dancing every Thursday night. Needless to say, that's where we'll be heading in a few nights. My shoes haven't been worn in months!

So we had a good first night. Having no food, we bought Creole pizza, listened to music, put up posters, and walked to the beach. Us girls are pretty happy in our little bungalow. It's not high end luxury, but for 265 euros a person (Carrie and me are sharing a room), it's really cheap...which means our salaries can go towards more important things like traveling....yup, life is pretty good, by the sea. Admittedly it was hard to say goodbye to Dominique, who dropped me off with Marlene. They were like two mothers, inspecting the place, helping me move my things in, and the expected "Be careful at night, don't go out by yourself." Nathalie and I waved them goodbye as they drove away. At least I know I will see them now and then, I'm not worried. Now we just have to learn how to surf...

Cilaos

You know how you always wonder what teachers do during their spare time? I always did as a kid, I thought that teachers must have some mysterious lives outside of school. Take my mom for instance: how many of her students know that she bike rides, or bird watches? I came into her class to pick her up one time, and they all stared at me for a long time, trying to figure out what kind of offspring Dr. Stanton must have....

Anyways, I digress. This weekend I went to the mountains, to eat more tasty food, and to meet English teachers! Well, it was for a workshop for the chaperons of an organization called BEST that sends high schoolers to English speaking countries like Australia, UK, South Africa, and the US. The teachers, although they slave away during the "vacation" get the benefit of an all expenses paid trip. Although I probably won't snag a spot, it was worth a shot to at least go and listen to all the boring lectures. Plus we played some great games of mafia, although it involved werewolves instead of mafia members....I kept being chosen as the hunter, I don't know what that means...

So what do English teachers do in their spare time? Play games, dance to loud music, and get drunk on champagne. Oh, and well, work or something. The trip was beautiful, with some pretty impressive mountains, and a cute little town with a Sunday artisan market. I didn't get a chance to hike much, but it was worth it, just to see them drunk.

First day of work

Today was a big day. I had my first day of work, teaching at school. Of course I just went in to introduce myself, really excited to meet some of my students. In fact, I think we all ended up being excited, because there was a big hush when Dominique introduced me as their new "assistante d'anglais." For the most part California seemed like a far away place to them (except for one student who had surprisingly already visited San Francisco????), and they wondered what I thought about their lovely island. Had I tried any of the Reunion specialties? In fact, I replied, I had. Last night.

Marlene (the one on the right in the photo) invited Dominique (on the left) and me to her house to eat a delicious traditional Creole meal: rougail saucisse: a dish involving rice, beans (not from the can), tomatoes, sausage. With "chou chou" on the side. SOOO delicious, with green chiles, you would not believe. Then a potato chocolate cake, that didn't really taste like potato at all, but the chocolate was definitely there. All of this topped off with some of the most delicious rum I have ever tasted, with that good ol' Madagascar vanilla flavor (from the vanilla beans Marlene had shoved inside the bottle way back). I think I could get used to this.

All in all I'm getting more and more into work, trying to come up with cool lesson plans, that will earn me top ranks. Tomorrow is movie day, and unfortunately the only English film I have that is relatively interesting for teenagers that don't speak English fluently is....Finding Nemo. Oh well, it's a movie, and I'm going to be one of those lame teachers that only let's them watch about 5 minutes. Who would have thought.

Learning languages

Today I took my first step in learning Creole. Simple enough, Marlene and Dominique were talking in the car, as all good friends do when they have been friends since middle school. All of the sudden Dominique stopped Marlene to alert me that they had slipped into Creole. Huh? Oh, right, I should be paying attention! So Marlene spoke really slowly....and then gave up. "This doesn't work in Creole!" She shouted (in perfect French of course). But they gave me a quick lesson: I = Mi (or Me?) and you = ou (ooh?). I need to learn how to write these, but so far I've got - "Mi amouu" = I love you... Which Dominique told me was important to know before I heard it around me at school from all the young school boys professing their love to me.

Poor Carrie is still trying to get a handle on French. I can understand where she's coming from, all that frustration of not being able to express and understand oneself in a foreign country. I tried to comfort her with my experiences in France, but I know it's different for everyone. I just know that learning a language involves a lot of endurance, determination, and patience. Oh, and being able to make a fool of yourself and still carry on, humbled by your attempts.

Dominique and Marlene carried on in French (even though Dominique and I had promised that every other day would be spoken in English, I let her slide, not that I really mind the extra practice). As they spoke, I got distracted as usual, but this time by a beautiful rainbow. "he he he!" I tried to alert them of the exciting event unfolding blatantly in front of their eyes. They stopped for a second and then Marlene turned to me: "Oh, that? That's normal, that happens all the time." Well I took a picture anyway. I think it's special, even if there will be tons more rainbows to come.

Clap if you want to get off

Dominique's house, not too shabby, huh?

Everytime I go to a new place, I'm always nervous about public transportation, and buses are the worst. It's that first time, awkwardly asking the driver whether you're on the right bus, fumbling through pockets for the right change, awkwardly grabbing the ticket. Then you have to figure out how to validate your fare, whether there is some sort of machine, or if you can just sit down and try to blend in (ha!).

Today was my first day trying out the buses in Reunion. I managed not to get lost, always a success, and even had a moment to enjoy the plush seats that made the "car jaune" rather plush and upscale Greyhoundish. What really amused me was how to demand a stop, instead of using buttons or handles, as there were none on the bus, everyone just clapped. As we rode along on the bus, you would hear "clap!" "clap!" every once in a while. I kind of enjoy it, it makes the ride more interactive. The last bus I took on the way home was driven by an old man that kind of mumbled at me in Creole, which of course I didn't really understand. I can't decide who was more confused, him or I, since I asked him to stop in Ste Therese....after the church?? But he put my Euros in his burlap bag, and shifted the bus into gear, closing the door...eventually. Funny how that bus ride cost 20 cents more than the other.

We drove through Le Port, which is the not as nice part of the island, where Carrie is going to assistant teach. You can see all the houses made out of tin, needless to say quite different from the part of La Possession where we live. I was curious to see what they looked like on the inside, but of course, the bus kept moving, and it was too dark anyway. All I know was I enjoyed the family I saw having a barbeque on the front step, they really looked like they were having fun. Finally I was the last one on the bus, and saw the church coming up. I was so worried about missing my stop that I clapped, and the doors opened on time. I made it home, rather proud of myself for having officially navigated properly.

Here's some more photos...

Ok, so admittedly nothing too exciting happened today. I was house hunting this morning, online like a bum. Then Dominique showed up and drove me to all of my schools, where I met with the principals, which actually made me rather nervous. Yikes, the boss! We went shopping, Dominique got a new dress. Then off to the grocery store to get food for tonight. We made a quiche aux poirots, which turned out pretty well, and then I made a tarte aux pommes (a la francaise), which was really good because we put REAL vanilla in, vanilla, that is, from MADAGASCAR. That was my highlight. Now here's two photos, because I've got a few. Enjoy. The bottom one is of a fruit and vegetable market in St Denis, and the top is of Peggy's cousin, and her cousin's friend, who is from Nancy!! Hahaha, the irony.

Ooh, the beach!

Ok, so today I hung out with Peggy, who is teaching at two of the schools I'm working at. She looks so young, I couldn't believe she's 31! But she's really happy to take us assistants around (we all met up at the beach kind of randomly), and she even bought me my first "Americain" - a specialty of Reunion, apparently: a sandwich with ham, cheese, french fries, and ketchup. It's actually really good....

As soon as we arrived at the beach, I could see why all these people love Reunion. The water is clear, the waves are good, and there's not too many obnoxious tourists (only some). Of course I've been told the beaches are even better in Mauritius, and that I "have to go." But anyways, these beaches are nice for sitting, talking, eating "des sandwiches americains," or samoussas. People here love to tell me about Reunion, about the culture, about the great things to see. I love it when people are excited about their country, bursting with pride. And everyone can't wait to cook me Reunionnais. I've already promised Mexican food for all, let's see if I can pull it off.

Tomorrow we look for more housing, although admittedly the other assistants are more on top of this than I am. I'm not in too much of a rush to leave Dominique's house, we're having fun eating leftovers in front of the television, although admittedly she did insist I eat some sort of vegetables. :-)

Day 2: Day of Rain and "samoussas"

Here's Carrie, my new friend, and possibly new roommate from Chicago

Today I woke up at a decent hour, and Dominique drove me around town to run errands together. We showed up at her mother's house just in time to have lunch. Well, we brought the chinese food and her mother made the rice. Then, for the grand finale, the smiling "maman" brought out her homemade batch of cake: some sort of delicious tapioca/vanilla/some sort of starch they couldn't quite explain to me cake. MMMM....my first Reunnais pastry...

Then Carrie and I wandered around town. Sure, there's stores like anywhere in France, you've got Carrefour, H&M, Pimkie, and Virgin Records. But there's something different about the place: the smell. Here, unlike anywhere else I've been, you've got this really spicy smell in the air, due to all the samoussa stands. We of course tried them, and they're delicious spicy Indian pastries, with chicken, fish, you name it. And when you go to the market, there are so many fresh fruits and vegetables from the island, that you go wild with desire to buy all of them. It smells so good there, with all the delicious bananas, papayas, mangoes....oh, and of course, the Reunion island specialty, Victoria pineapples....

This island really is special. Carrie and I thought about this as we walked by the mosque, chinese church, hindu temple, and catholic church. Even everyone's complexion is different. Sure, you've got a lot of African influence, but a lot of Reunnais also have really pale complexions, with blue eyes and blond hair. And everyone seems to be so mixed together, it's as if all these cultures are blended together. It's as if there's no room for people to segregate themselves. I like it, it's more colorful.

Still having a great time chez Dominique. She hosted an aperitif at her house tonight, inviting several of her friends, including her crazy Marlene, who convinced me that we should stick the grape and cheese toothpick skewers through a melon or fruit of some sort....everyone praised it as genius, I should have taken a picture of her brilliant idea. Tomorrow night I'm cooking Italian, gulp, I hope Dominique likes it. Oh, and I'm going to the beach. finally!!

Enfin, La Réunion de mes rêves!!!

So my flight ended up being very cushy indeed. Air Austral is the type of airline that gives you a goody bag with headphones and earplugs (the usual), and then a travel toothbrush and a pair of socks (mom you didn't have to get me new socks after all, and these are without holes to boot!!). But despite the wonderful movie selection (I managed to watch Milk, Bridget Jones's Diary, Ratatouille, and Bienvenue Chez les Ch'tis), I was still excited to get off the plane.

The first view of the island was impressive: I saw palm trees, lots of green jungle like forests, and the most breath taking was the sheer cliffs and huge mountains. I guess this place is pretty after all!

So everything went according to plan, rather smoothly actually. One teacher picked me up at the airport, took me into St Denis for a drink (a I need to get off the plane and do something soda). As we headed over to the school, she talked to me in perfect English, explaining the ups and the downs of the island. Sure, there's big spiders, washed out roads, and its best not to go swimming in the evening near river outlets because that's where the sharks hang out, but all in all Réunion seems like a rather relaxed place.

The rest of the day I spent with Dominique, an English teacher at my school who is very welcoming, and at the moment, daughterless. She seemed to take it upon herself to help me and another American assistant who we picked up along the way. She talks about her 21 year old daughter a lot, and when she explained that I could rent out a room in her house for very cheap, I could tell this was to remedy a little bit of empty nest syndrome. Admittedly her house is really cool, with a great view and a pool to boot. At any rate, I have a place to stay, and she seemed rather excited to have someone else cook for her for a change. So far so good, I think I'm really going to like it here. :-)

The start of an official and hopefully exciting travel blog

Hi Everyone! As promised, here is my travel blog, hopefully to be continued and updated every once in a while. Although I must warn you in advance that this blog may get repetitive as time goes on and I am still on the same island, doing the same job from day to day, just like anyone else. Anyways, here's my first entry!

To get you up to date on all my adventures, I left California a few days ago and rushed to Milan to pick up my things. Sadly I didn't have time to say goodbye to everyone, but I know I will see the Marelli family again, and have more wonderful nanny adventures. I then rushed to Zurich to meet up with my friends, the PiRats for one last hurrah before I left. A goodbye was definitely in order, after a great summer of meeting up and having good fun. Somehow I also managed to squeeze in a few days in Nancy, France, where I had studied for a year, and saw my old French host family (that's a photo of my host dad and me, before you get really confused) and a few friends. It was a bittersweet trip to end my summer in Europe, as I had flashbacks of all my great memories there, as Katka and I walked by the park, the square, and the university. Figures I got in trouble with my host parents for only staying 2 days! They sound like my real parents...Next time, I promised to stay for at least a week!


So here I am, I finally made it to Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris, and now I'm on my way to "La Reunion" (pronounced ray-you-yohn with your best French accent). After a good 6 months of sweat and tears (no blood was shed, on my part or on the part of the French government, although it was tempting...) I am finally ready to go, with my visa and one huge suitcase and a good size backpack (I finally downsized my luggage...). The lady at the check in line looked at me a little strangely when she saw my American passport, as Reunion is not a popular US vacation spot, but she checked me in and told me, "You know you have a weight allowance of up to 40 kilos?" What she didn't know was that I had been lugging that stuff around for the past several days in 3 different countries, and that one more kilo probably would have broken my back or something.

So I am sitting in good ol' Mac Do, using their free internet. I don't really know what to expect when I get there, but hopefully I will be met at the airport, and given a ride to my new home. More updates after my 11 hour flight! Goodbye Europe, hope to see you again soon!!!