French schools...

I know that these days in America parents complain about the workload of their students. There are all of the new stresses, more books, more classes, more activities...students seem to have more and more homework every year. Although this might be true, the more and more I learn from my students about the French school system, the more I realize how lucky we have it in America.

Today we had a discussion about the two types of school systems, and how they were different. We figured out that while most American students have probably 6 or 7 classes freshman year of highschool, the French students of the same age group have 11-12 classes. Better yet, while we start school either at 7:30 or 8:30, and finish at 2:30 or 3:30 in the afternoon, they are stuck in the classroom from 7:30-4:00 guaranteed. As for after school activities? Half of the students said they would rather go home after school than stick around for a sport or theatre group. Fortunately the other half reassured me they had after school activities, and that they were quite enjoyable.

It all came down to a few things, that made the systems different in a way that the students and I had different perspectives: In the US we get 40 minutes or so for lunch time, and in France, it's at least an hour and a half! I asked the students, which would you prefer, a shorter lunch break so you can go home sooner, or a longer one that makes you stay at school until later? They all agreed they would rather have a longer day at school than give up that precious hour and a half they have with their friends.

Next were the foreign languages. Most of them took at least two languages, sometimes three. All of them had started learning a foreign language at the age of 11, if not sooner. When I told them that some of my friends didn't even take a foreign language in school because it wasn't required, their eyes popped, and their mouths opened wide. They couldn't believe it. American students don't learn languages until high school, and even then, only one? How could that be? I think we all agreed that it was fun to learn languages....well, most of us did.

Finally, and interestingly enough, the students had all of their classes with the same group of kids. I guess that's similar to what we had in middle school, but I can't imagine how different it must be to spend your entire day with the same 25 odd students, all year long. I asked one girl how she felt about this, and her response was, "I like it. We feel more unified, as a group." Fair enough.

I guess there are some things that I may never understand, but I can definitely appreciate. One thing is for certain: these kids could be in any high school in the US, with their sense of humor and comic timing. I laughed so hard while my students were role playing a fight between Sarkozy and Obama, as Mickey Mouse tried to intervene to calm them all down. Some days are just crazy like that, where you couldn't get them to stop speaking English if you tried. I just go with the flow.

on foot

As I have said way too many times, there are too many things to do on this island. If you are an adventurer and somewhat creative, you find that there is just not enough time in the week to do everything you want to do. Worse, if you become passionate about one hobby (such as surfing, or salsa, for example), you find yourself realizing you can do that ALL the time. This can definitely be said for any person that has access to a vehicle, sturdy shoes, and a will to walk.

A few friends of mine have almost what we could call an obsession with exercise. Every minute it seems like they are either swimming, running, biking, and of course hiking. I only went with them once, but they take their sports seriously, including hiking. As they hiked up and down each hill, I panted behind with the others, wondering when the uphill bits would end, as we sweated out of every pore. They're the kind of hikers who always want more. The cool part is, there are so many "randonees" on this island, even if they were able to finish them all, by the time they got back to doing round two, everything would have changed. There are so many that when you look at the books of hikes on the island, you can't decide which one to do first.

There seems to be many challenges in hiking during the summer season however. In mid February you risk bad weather. Not only might it be sweltering hot, but the sun could burn you to a crisp. Worse, and more usual is when you hike in the mountains if you don't wake up and go before 6 AM you're more likely to miss out on the spectacular views and end up with your heads up in the clouds....that is in the literal sense of course, with fog hiding everything from sight by 9 in the morning. More than likely, also it seems, is that you end up with rain, especially when you're away from the dry West coast. While it may be sunny one second, the next it will be pouring down, and you end up walking in the mushy mud, trying not to have an embarrassing slip while someone is looking.

Despite all of these complications, we still hike. Perhaps we're bored (very unlikely), or excited to do something new. Every place seems enticing somehow, with the opportunity to get away from the beach, to explore the forests, waterfalls, mountains. The best part is that even if it is really hot, you can be sure that it still way cooler up high than at the beach, where the water seems to make it even more humid. Still, it seems as if somedays you get bad luck, and that raincloud is just hovering above your head. We can only hope for the "dry/cool" season to start, where the rain will stop coming and the threat of cyclones will be non existent.

And the US military???

Some sort of scene out of South Pacific, my roommate couldn't wait to tell me who she had run into at the grocery store: a large, noisy and obviously American group of army men. I couldn't believe it. What were they doing here??? What could the US military possibly need from Reunion Island? Turns out fuel, food, and R & R. Or at least that's all they could tell us.

I finally had my brush with another group that night, walking home from salsa dancing. I'm not sure who was more surprised to see whom, but they seemed rather amused to run into a California girl on a tropic island in the Indian Ocean. The guys told me that their van had taken then from the port in Le Port and dropped them off in St Gilles for the day. While they waited for their bus home, they asked me what I thought of Reunion. I responded with a resounding "Love it," which they echoed, having sadly only seen St Gilles, which as close and dear to my heart as it is, is still nicknamed "z'oreille land" for a reason. It really makes you feel like you're in France, as opposed to the rest of the island where you have true Creole influence and people living there.

As amused as I was at meeting a few soldiers, the next day we kept running into them. I helped one order a sandwich, and ran into a few other guys on the beach who were playing "real" football (American style, not that silly soccer stuff). Most of them asked us how we liked it here, and of course, where all the good places to go out at night were.

It's just strange because when you stay here long enough, you forget what it's like to run into American tourists. Anywhere else, you name it they're there. But Reunion truly is a place for the French, and very few other foreigners ever venture this far away. Carrie seemed kind of frustrated, seeing all of these Americans invading our secret island. I just reminded her that as soon as she leaves, she'll see plenty more of them when she gets home. There are worst things in life. After all, who are we to talk anyways?

St Denis

St Denis may be the largest city and the capitol of the island, but even in guide books St Denis is considered the city where you book your gites, plan your trip, catch a taxi and get out. It's not that it's a very dangerous place. In fact most people claim it's rather "French," and it's got the most shopping on the island. I guess its biggest flaw is its lack of a nice beach with some pretty bars and restaurants to go with it. Unlike Hermitage, which has a beautiful lagoon and crystal clear waters, St Denis has got plenty of rocky coast, with waves crashing in with muddy brown water that is probably more inviting for fisherman and sharks than swimmers.

However there are some great parts of the city. For one, you can check out all of the museums, that line up along Rue de Paris, which is quite a nice little avenue with old style creole houses and plenty of trees to provide shade along the way. There's also the jardin de l'Etat, which after its recent renovation is quite the treat.

I guess what really makes my head turn when I'm in St Denis is the strange array of cultures you can find there. Typical of most big cities you have a better mix of cultures than anywhere else. When I was finally able to spend a night out on the town in St Denis, I was lucky enough to catch glimpses of the Chinese New Year, in full swing. You could see drummers, dancers, streamers were thrown everywhere. It made me think of Chinatown for a bit in San Francisco, but I shrugged that thought out of my mind as I munched down on an Indian buffet with a Creole family, dancing the night away for a 14 year old girl's birthday party.

Not only were the Chinese celebrating, but everyone was dealing with Valentine's day at the same time. Since it was his first time out in St Denis as well, I let my friend drag me along to the most happening place in town: Le Boys, a gay night club. Surprisingly there were more people than I expected in the bar, dancing the night away, guys eying guys while dancing around the club, trying to flirt without even talking. For an island where homosexuality is less excepted than you would think, this place surprised me, especially for how many people I saw there. I guess city life is such a mix of cultures and lifestyles that it is the great equalizer. Everyone is different, and thus accept each other.

Welcome to your out of this world experience

When you go to Reunion, there is a long list of things you have to do, see, experience, eat....If I were to write a list of the absolute "must see" top 10, it would probably be something like this (in no particular or meaningful order):

1: surf at Trois Bassins, my favorite surfer spot
2: Spend the night in a gite at Cilaos, the most beautiful mountain on the island I've seen yet
3: An around the island tour, stopping at all of the cool places along the way, including a lunch near the lava floes to eat rougail saucisse
4: have a bonfire and camp out on the beach at Grande Anse, the best beach to camp out on ever
5: Go paragliding in St Leu, over the ocean and the biggest/best waves on the island
6: Go snorkeling at Hermitage to see all of the colorful fish and coral reefs
7: Walk along the peaceful and mostly deserted stretch of beach from St Gilles to Boucan Canot to check out all of the pretty houses along the way
8: Go to Coco Beach on Sunday night to watch the sun set and then salsa dance outdoors (well I had to put in some sort of salsa event, sorry!)
9: Explore the 3 Bassins/ Cormorants waterfalls and go for a refreshingly chilly swim

And finally, we get to the point of this list: #10, and an absolute must must must, is the hike directly to the center of the volcano: Le Piton de la Fournaise.

My friend Ben and I have started our official Tuesday adventure club, where we are the only members, since everyone else has to work. Every Tuesday our new goal is to see or experience something new, before our time on this island is up. This week was the volcano, and we couldn't have picked a better moment to do it.

First, it was raining so hard. While we got out of the car Ben teased me relentlessly since after all my bragging of being a pretty tough hiker and backpacker, growing up out of a backpack in the Sierras....I had forgotten my rainjacket. Despite the downpour, we pressed further, we hadn't driven 2 hours to sit in the car. As we hiked towards the trail, we made it to the edge of a sheer cliff, and as we looked down, the view took my breath away. It was as if we were on the edge of the planet, looking into some sort of moon crater, barren of almost everything, except for some brightly colored shrubs. As the mist cleared, we carefully hiked our way down into the crater, every moment getting more and more drenched. At that point I stopped caring that rain was falling down in torrents so that I could hardly keep my eyes open, or that my clothes were dripping so wet that whenever we stopped you could hear the water running down. It didn't matter that my hands were really numb. I was so amazed at how barren the place was.

I've seen a few volcanoes in my time, Mt St Helens to name one, but this one was different. On one side you could see multiple cones, just rising off in the distance, and on the other you could see the steep cliff that we had just clambered down. All around was a stockpile of oddly shaped rocks, that had been melted and molded into such strange designs no artist could have ever come up with. We didn't talk much, but just kept walking along, listening to the silence. You couldn't even hear the rain very much, as it hit the rocks without making a single sound. I just took pictures from time to time, admiring the array of colors. Sadly we had to do the shorter hike, because of time restraints and the fact that by that point I was pretty well, waterlogged. I looked off in the distance to the big cone, noting that I would save that "big guy" for next time. We walked back mainly satisfied by how very few tourists had come today, to hike around in the rain. What they didn't know was it was the best time to see this place, all shrouded in fog, nice and cool without a single ray of sunshine. You can only imagine how hot that crater gets when it's sunny, since there's not a spot of shade in sight.

It's places like these that make Reunion seem like "paradise" quite a lot of the time. By the time we got back to the beach it was time for some french fries at the snack bar near the "Big Left," one of the best surf spots in the world. As the sun set, I again could not believe how magical this place is. Yup, paradise. But even vacation has to come to an end someday. And as much as I love this place, it's time for other adventures.

Hidden cultures on the island

So, even though most of the time I notice what makes Reunion unique, its Creole culture, sometimes I can't help but notice the huge influences that make Reunion still, well, French. I can't help but notice how often I can relate to something that happens in Reunion to something that happened in Nancy. That word that I learned at one time that keeps coming back, the funny quirks in people, the fact that I'm learning more French geography here than ever before thanks to all my friends from "Metropole." That one night I enjoyed a delicious croissant....only in French territory could you find a moment like that.

Sunday just seems to prove my point. Although I was somewhat unsure about the nature of French "trad" dancing (folk dance), I figured it must be something like the folk dance I knew from college. After all, the goal of folk dances is so that "everyone can dance, because the steps are so easy," (this is not a quote from me, but from my friend Gabriel, so you should take his word for it). What made me laugh was a realization that this "folk dance" class my friend Gabriel was dragging me to was also some sort of "Briton" type club, or at least most of the people in the group seemed to be fans of Brittany, that lovely northern part of France that seems somehow even further away from here when you think of how much snow must be on the ground over there as we speak.

After all of the dancing, which I was pleased to note were very similar to other Celtic folk dances that I knew, like Irish and Scottish, I was trying to solve the mystery of why 50 some odd people were assembled in an overheated, overcrowded room on a Saturday afternoon, dancing to relatively mediocre accordion music. Then I suppose it came to me: perhaps these people, who seem to really love this culture, perhaps they are from Brittany, and miss their homeland. It was almost as if they had their own club, as inclusive as it was, to remind them of what they used to know. I understand that feeling all too well. In french the term is "depaysagement" or when you are displaced from your country, to be removed.

It was a pretty old crowd, but just as lively as any Ceili party I had ever attended in Portland, with all of the students very eager to learn. I ended up getting roped into coming back when one of the teachers discovered that I knew how to Irish folk dance. "You have to teach us!! It will be so much fun. You have music don't you?" I felt like I was back in Folk Dance club, getting coerced into leading a dance. Oh well, I suppose I could try....

Even though we were there on a very hot day on a tropical island towards the end I got that shiver of cold and rain while I watched the dancers finish off the lesson with a great "Scottish." I would have stayed in the stupor of "Metropole culture," especially surrounded by all of my French friends, until we walked out of the room. There it was, Creole children running around with their mothers, men sitting on the corner, talking. I got "repaysaged." No matter how you try to hide back into your own culture, surrounded by people with the same background and ideas, you can't hide from the real world overseas. But would you really want to?

American culture is always around the corner

One of the most frustrating parts of my job is somewhat ironic: How can I share my culture with kids who already see it broadcasted on their tvs, know all the lines from the movies....Some of these Creole teenagers know more about these American actors than I do. Its like those women who tell me how thoughtful they think Obama's autobiography is....ok, that was in Italy, but you get the point.

Today was just an example of how there are still a lot of holes in their knowledge of the American culture. Sometimes I forget that they are further from California than I realize, and even though they may be Twilight addicts, they still don't know everything about prom. I explained that it was a dance, you usually go with dates, girls wear corsages, sometimes we go to the ball in a limo....It's almost as if they have a fuzzy vision of America, but all of the deep meanings behind our traditions and cultures are still somewhat hidden. Not that prom is a good example of deep, meaningful, American tradition. Still, I'm sure they have no idea why we celebrate Thanksgiving...I'm not sure if we do, either, to be honest.

Surfing etiquette

The first time I ever tried to surf was in late November, when I bribed a friend of mine to teach me how. He showed me a few tricks, and casually we paddled our way out into the water, as half a dozen of my other friends watched for their own amusement on dry land. As scary as it was to try to catch my first wave, as small as it was, I managed to even stand up a little bit, just in time for my friends to wave and cheer. Mainly we just sat around, waiting, along with the other two dozen surfers that showed up for the day. What I remember most was how Ben explained the life of a surfer to me, while we were sitting in the calm of the ocean. "You see," he said lazily, "Surfing isn't really a sport. It's not organized, or all the time active. You spend a lot of time just relaxing, connecting with the waves, with nature."

After several months of surfing I have finally bought my very own long board. Upon reflection, I agree with what Ben said on both accounts. I can confirm that I have "connected with nature," or at least my bruised body can account for my connection with the wave, as I have tumbled, fell, slipped, numerous times. Many surfers on Reunion island also come back with lovely souvenirs of sea urchin bits stuck in their feet, or coral that cut up their legs.

Secondly, surfing is definitely not what I would call "organized," especially at 11 AM on a Sunday morning. Not only do you have all of the aggressive "professional" surfers out yelling at everyone who cuts them off from their perfect wave, or shoving people out of the way, but you also have all of the surf schools, with students that accidentally plow over everything that is in their way. Learning the "rules" of traffic in surfing is like learning a new language. It seems pretty straight forward, but there always seems to be exceptions or people that break the rules.

Despite the hardships, especially as a beginner surfer, it's also proven to be a great way to interact with others. You never know who you will meet up with in the water, whether it be a twelve year old boy who is learning English in school, or a kind boogie boarder that takes pity on you and gives you advice. Slowly over time, faces and people start to look familiar. People of all ages, all sizes. The only thing that appears to be out of place is the fact that most of these people are....white. Although some people claim to know the reason for this phenomenon, be it money or lack of interest, it is rather strange that almost everyone I know is not from here originally, or whose origins are from "Metropole" (France). I suppose just another thing to think about as I chase down more waves.