Settling In

After moving in, opening a bank account, and sending out all of my immigration forms, I think I am finally settling in. I find myself feeling like an infant time and time again because I often do not know where to go or who to talk to, and I need not mention that I’m not exactly Victor Hugo when it comes to my mastery of the French language, so things haven’t been that easy. Luckily, the people here are so very considerate and patient, so it’s not as difficult as it could be.
I do not live in the vineyards, as those are a bit south of the city and there is not much going on in those little villages most of the time. I live in the west side of Dijon, about a ten minute walk from the downtown area. The neighborhood reminds me of East Coast prep schools in films, i.e. tons of colorful foliage and cold weather. As a runner, it is the perfect place because I stumble upon new creeks and parks each time I go for a workout. I have rented a room in the high school librarian’s flat. Her name is Marie-Françoise, and she is such an adorable lady. I definitely lucked out with my living situation because she can answer most of the questions I have, and she also teaches me so much as she is very well-read. Her husband, Jean-Pierre, lives uptown where he has a huge garden, and so she often brings home fresh fruits and vegetables from his place. I will try to post more pictures soon!

Côte D'Or

A Quaint Country Bed and Breakfast

After our short stay in Paris, my parents and I drove down to Dijon. Dijon is about three hours southeast of Paris by car, in the region of Burgundy (undoubtedly, we get our word burgundy from the rich color of the grapes and subsequent wines this region yields). Between Paris and Burgundy lays a long stretch of rolling green hills and rural villages. We stayed in the quaintest little bed and breakfast during our stay in Dijon. Each morning, they would lay out a beautiful traditional French breakfast, with a wide assortment of breads and homemade jams. The best part was the fresh homemade yoghourt and the freshly baked Pain d’Épices, a gingerbread that is a specialty of Burgundy. Their home was in the middle of farmland in a small village called Labergement-Foigney (so small in fact that the Dijonaise we talked to hadn’t even heard of it). They had four little kids who were possibly the friendliest, most delightful, cutest babies I have ever come across. They would alert each other about the arrival of “les Américains” at the breakfast table, after which we would hear the scurry of little feet about the house, rushing to see the alien specimens sitting at their breakfast table. The breakfast table was where we met people from other places who had also made the B&B a stop on their travels. The time I passed there not only provided me with an experience of French country life, but also taught me a lesson in hospitality and warmth of heart. The wife and husband team that ran the place would help us with absolutely every question we had, and then some. Aux Mésanges in Labergement-Foigney is the place to be if you ever want to spend a few quiet days in the French countryside.

On Our Way to the French Countryside

The few days I spent in Paris were fun, but it did not last long enough—it felt as though I simply peek-a-booed and left. The city has so much to offer, and it takes a while to really explore the tiniest bit. Of course, I went and saw Notre Dame, the Arc de Triomphe, and the Eiffel Tower. Unfortunately, I did not have enough time to go inside the Louvre, but I did see I.M. Pei’s pyramid which marks the entrance. However, I must admit that one of the best times I had in Paris was at the market I went to early Sunday morning. There were vendors selling everything from fresh fruit to sausage to shoes. Each day we simply walked around in awe of this city that was made to be beautiful. And whenever we would get hungry, we would have what is known as a “Parisian sandwich”: Fresh baguette + cheese + some sort of meat + mayonnaise = yummy yummy in my tummy. I definitely plan on returning very soon; there is a train that leaves Dijon for Paris early in the morning and returns later that evening, and it only costs 15€, which even I can afford.

L’arrivée

I arrived at Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris on Saturday, September 26, 2009. This was my first stop before going to Dijon (yes, same as the mustard), where I currently work as an English assistant. I have been hired by the French Ministry of Culture and Education to teach English in a French high school near Dijon, and I decided to start blogging in an effort to share my experiences both as a teacher and as an American living in France.

My parents and I decided to make a little trip to Paris before going to Dijon. I decided to take the SNCF train to the hotel where I was staying for the next few days before I would be leaving for Dijon, and allow me to suggest that you take a cab to your destination because there are too many staircases in Paris, and you will regret taking the train.

When I finally reached my hotel room in Paris and took a mere glance at the view, I began to cry (I promise this isn’t me running amuck with literary license to make things sexy). To be honest, I really don’t know why I did. Looking back, I think it was an mishmash of emotions whose only release was in a flurry of quiet tears: I was tired after having been awake on the eleven hour plane flight, after which I had dragged a boatload of heavy luggage up and down every staircase in Paris; I missed my family and friends; and yet, simultaneously, there was an unmistakable sense of apprehension and enthusiasm at what lay ahead...