Dear Lyon 2- In the future, maybe when you finally finish that construction, could you perhaps think about a better numbering system for your rooms? Having rooms with similar numbers located near each other would be lovely. Or at least indicating somehow on which campus a certain classroom is located? And could you think about not giving rooms two numbers? Just choose one! Or, if you decide that this system really is best, could you make maps or something? That way, when people that I don’t even know (real French people even) stop in to ask where something is, I won’t have to just give them directions to the Departement de Lettres. Because, really, not everyone is going there. Love, Gina
Yesterday, mes amis, I had an incident. A breakfast incident. I was eating at Le Pain Quotidien (ohhh yes- that one! With the wonderful spreads that are addicting like crack cocaine, except not in the same way that the Lyon 2 vending machine lemon tea is crack cocaine) and having a very nice time of it until… our eggs arrived. Rachelle and I had ordered oeufs à la coque, which I knew to be soft-boiled eggs. I was excited- I kept telling Rachelle how I had eaten them like that when I was little. Behold- our eggs arrived- but-alas- they were not open. No worries, thought I, I seem to remember some sort of tapping with a spoon to open them. This yielded nothing. We tried tapping with our knives. Still us, faced with two unopen (but cutely brown) eggs. Rachelle decided that if we could get past this, we could do anything. I thought that it was a forever marked moment in our friendship. This was getting annoying, we wanted eggs. Buuut, we were too ashamed to ask the waiter how the heck we were supposed to open them. I had visions of me whacking the egg too hard and it flying everywhere. What were we to do? In situations like this, there’s only one thing to do- make Rachelle call Laurie, our director, on her cell phone. I’m sure Laurie was thrilled to get a call from one of her students and her GTF inquiring about how to properly open a soft-boiled egg. I could hear her laughing from across the table. But it led to our eventual victory with the eggs, which was happy. And to a lot of mocking, which I’m ok with. Really.
Today, in between to listening to “I thought you were my boyfriend” by the Magnetic Fields like a fiend (thanks Emily Benz!) I managed to run the Centre Oregon all day. This happens every Wednesday, and I admit, I get a power rush sitting at Laurie’s desk. I feel like I’m holding court or something. Students came and went, plans were made for PARIS COMBO on Saturday (me? excited?) which I think involve me cooking dinner for many people, pictures from the France/USA reception last night were viewed and gossip was exchanged. We discussed how many people from the France/USA association had cornered us last night, at this reception at the lovely hotel de ville (mistranslated as “Mayor House” on the invitations), and asked us questions about the States. I myself was cornered by Rémé, who works in the Centre, and the man who runs Lyon International (I don’t really know what they do) and told that I would be attending a reception Thursday night as well. Will there be wine there too? I love being paraded around as an American! And here I was, trying to pretend I was Dutch.
Did I ever mention that a student called me at 1am, completely drunk, to ask where they should go dancing? Because pretty sure that it happened. I get the best calls. But I actually love it. The students make me laugh, and make me happy. And this is pretty much the best job I’ve ever had.
My iTunes just switched into a song that, for some reason, reminded me of climbing the stairs at the U of Oregon library all the way up to the 4th floor to visit my little corner of the PQs. I spent a good portion of my time in Eugene there, especially the last quarter while I was studying for exams. La iPod certainly got a lot of use during that period, because it set me into my own little library world. Am I a huge geek for really enjoying walking through the stacks and getting a thrill every time I found something I wanted (and didn’t have time to) read? Really, be honest with me. April, could you back me up on this? Please?
Yesterday, mes amis, I had an incident. A breakfast incident. I was eating at Le Pain Quotidien (ohhh yes- that one! With the wonderful spreads that are addicting like crack cocaine, except not in the same way that the Lyon 2 vending machine lemon tea is crack cocaine) and having a very nice time of it until… our eggs arrived. Rachelle and I had ordered oeufs à la coque, which I knew to be soft-boiled eggs. I was excited- I kept telling Rachelle how I had eaten them like that when I was little. Behold- our eggs arrived- but-alas- they were not open. No worries, thought I, I seem to remember some sort of tapping with a spoon to open them. This yielded nothing. We tried tapping with our knives. Still us, faced with two unopen (but cutely brown) eggs. Rachelle decided that if we could get past this, we could do anything. I thought that it was a forever marked moment in our friendship. This was getting annoying, we wanted eggs. Buuut, we were too ashamed to ask the waiter how the heck we were supposed to open them. I had visions of me whacking the egg too hard and it flying everywhere. What were we to do? In situations like this, there’s only one thing to do- make Rachelle call Laurie, our director, on her cell phone. I’m sure Laurie was thrilled to get a call from one of her students and her GTF inquiring about how to properly open a soft-boiled egg. I could hear her laughing from across the table. But it led to our eventual victory with the eggs, which was happy. And to a lot of mocking, which I’m ok with. Really.
Today, in between to listening to “I thought you were my boyfriend” by the Magnetic Fields like a fiend (thanks Emily Benz!) I managed to run the Centre Oregon all day. This happens every Wednesday, and I admit, I get a power rush sitting at Laurie’s desk. I feel like I’m holding court or something. Students came and went, plans were made for PARIS COMBO on Saturday (me? excited?) which I think involve me cooking dinner for many people, pictures from the France/USA reception last night were viewed and gossip was exchanged. We discussed how many people from the France/USA association had cornered us last night, at this reception at the lovely hotel de ville (mistranslated as “Mayor House” on the invitations), and asked us questions about the States. I myself was cornered by Rémé, who works in the Centre, and the man who runs Lyon International (I don’t really know what they do) and told that I would be attending a reception Thursday night as well. Will there be wine there too? I love being paraded around as an American! And here I was, trying to pretend I was Dutch.
Did I ever mention that a student called me at 1am, completely drunk, to ask where they should go dancing? Because pretty sure that it happened. I get the best calls. But I actually love it. The students make me laugh, and make me happy. And this is pretty much the best job I’ve ever had.
My iTunes just switched into a song that, for some reason, reminded me of climbing the stairs at the U of Oregon library all the way up to the 4th floor to visit my little corner of the PQs. I spent a good portion of my time in Eugene there, especially the last quarter while I was studying for exams. La iPod certainly got a lot of use during that period, because it set me into my own little library world. Am I a huge geek for really enjoying walking through the stacks and getting a thrill every time I found something I wanted (and didn’t have time to) read? Really, be honest with me. April, could you back me up on this? Please?
1 Comments:
Yes, that makes you a huge geek. But, I knew that about you before we were friends, so it's something I tolerate now, like Donal's complete lack of proactivity.
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