The party preparations are in full swing. Today, we cleaned house, made lots of the food and got some of the games ready. I even managed to make a reasonably cute pumpkin-shaped cake. I'll post a pic tomorrow.

It's past 8pm now and I haven't had a moment to myself all day. What I've really wanted to do all day is relax a bit with a cup of tea and a book. That fantasy is about to become a reality in about five minutes, I think. But I just had to post this:

I was in the kitchen chatting with Valentine just before dinner. We were making mashed grasshoppers. (That's guacamole with a small sign stuck in it saying "Mashed Grasshoppers". We're getting the food ready for the Halloween party, remember?)

Suddenly, Valentine whispered "Hush mom! Listen!"

I heard light footsteps coming down the stairs and two sweet little voices singing:

Now he's dropped down to the floor

Heading for the bedroom door

Maybe he's as scared as me

Where's he gone now, I can't see

It turns out that my twin daughters know all four verses of Boris the Spider and can sing it really well.

Too cute, srsly.

Halloween is nearly here, but in France, it's not that evident. Very few shops sell any holiday items and there's certainly no mention in the media.
And that's just fine.
I am perfectly happy for Halloween to be an American specialty and I'm very glad that I have this fun cultural tradition to share with my kids.
We've been planning a party this week-not a huge one, but plenty big.
We got our jack-o-lanterns carved yesterday:

On Sunday, we made a simple, but reasonably cute, Halloween "tree" with painted branches:

The kids made all the little treat bags and had fun decorating each one differently:
I've also been downloading stuff off the internet. One site had some really nifty retro Halloween artwork that I just loved- for example:

I've also downloaded plenty of Halloween music for the party. I tried some of it out on the kids today in the car. They had never heard 'The Monster Mash' before and I told them it was a song you HAVE to know if you are a US citizen.

It's the law.

Some people claim that Marie Antoinette once said " Let them eat cake".
In fact, what she said was "Let them see cake" The doomed queen hoped that viewing attractively decorated confectionary treats would soothe the violently rebellious spirits of the thousands of unhappy peasants milling around the palace.
It didn't work.
But I'll show you my cakes anyway.

Throughout my stay in Ouagadougou, I honed my cake-making skills. It was often quite challenging, as few good materials were available locally. The powdered sugar, for example, was dry, lumpy stuff from Lebanon that had to be pounded through a sieve before I could use it. Butter was available only sporadically, so I had to stock up, despite limited fridge space and power outages that could spoil everything.

But I persevered.

This next cake is one of the first character cakes I attempted. I probably should have made Pikachu larger, but I was just grateful that he turned out recognisable. Nothing's worse than making a character cake and having it misidentified by your eating public.

A remark like "So... that's...Big Bird?" would have killed me. (Yes, I do invest emotionally in my cakes. Thank you for asking.)

(The colors on the above cake were actually ok, btw. It's just a bad photo.)

Now, here's Santa. He's a bit square, but cute enough...

Here's another character cake from a cartoon. The film "Spirit" was a favorite of Valentine's at the time, so I made this:
This next one is also my own design. By the time I made it, I'd already done quite a few horse cakes. So, when one of the twins asked for a horse, I talked her into a seahorse- which she loved.
(I I love the expression on his little face.)

This is probably the most difficult character cake that I ever made. SpongeBob may be a big yellow rectangle, but he's a complicated big yellow rectangle. I'm pretty proud of him, as these cakes can go very, very wrong.

That's it for today. The kids are on school holiday now and I'm very busy keeping them busy. we're planning a big Hallowen party, so there's plenty to do. I'll try to post some pictures tomorrow so that you can see what we've been up to...

Back in Ouagadougou, one thing JP and I spent hours discussing was our house back in France. The main topic was how to enlarge the living space. He was all for knocking out some interior walls. I was more a proponent of adding rooms in the loft of the huge garage.

It was all fun to daydream about, at any rate...

But as the time for the move back to France drew nearer and our family grew older, we began to realise that at least a few of our idle daydreams would have to become a reality if all six of us were to fit comfortably in our moderately-sized, old-fashioned home in the Alps.

The first big project would be to take off the existing sad little hovel serving as a back entry hall:

...and replace it with a good-sized room that could serve as a giant cloakroom and staging area. Something like this:

It would have closets to store all the coats and shoes. Plus, the space would make getting ready to go out in the winter SO much less painful. Having four big kids in the kitchen, struggling in and out of their ski gear is very claustrophobia-inducing, as well as messy.

But getting from the first photo to the second one is not proving to be easy. Right away when I arrived back in France in July of 2008, I began trying to contact people about getting work done on the house. Wheels began to turn, but with glacial slowness.

It's now October 2009- 15 months from the day I started trying to get this project going and it's only this week that the real action finally started up.

On Tuesday, a team of men arrived, tore down the old shack (which is SO not missed) and began digging the foundation.

Looks like fun, eh?

They also worked at the front, preparing to pour new stairs to access the main door of the house:

So, there's plenty of action around here lately and not just outside the house. There have been people constantly in and out of the house. On Wednesday, when my second group of English students left, I was sure to follow them out the door and say loudly "Good English lesson! See you next week for another English lesson!". I was afraid that the guys working outside were starting to suspect that I have a home meth lab and am dealing from my living room.

Or maybe not. Do they even have meth labs in the French Alps?

I digress...

That day there were over twenty people in and out of the house (students, friends, family). I don't know why, but I'd thought that my life would contract when I moved to France. It's far from the case (and I think that's awfully nice). However, the fact that my home seems to be a central traffic point is becoming an issue, as our entrances and exits become increasingly blocked by the work. This morning, for example, the back door was sealed with plastic sheets from the outside and the path from the front door was completely blocked by the backhoe. Mallory was afraid of missing her bus and crawled out a window on the north side of the house.

When I got home this morning (I had to take JP to Geneva), the guys were pouring cement in the pouring rain. I had to squeeze between some drippy shrubs and scramble up a muddy incline to get to a door. But when the cement is all poured, they've promised to build us a little bridge across the wet cement. And that's very good, as I really don't want to be crawling in and out the window all weekend...

Big news! Taciturn Tuesday is going all cake, all the time!

Ok...maybe not all the time- but at least for the next three Tuesdays, I'll be sharing my past Adventures in Cake Decorating with you.

One day in Burkina Faso, I was seized by a sudden urge to make fancy cakes. My first effort was a 3-D train for Severin's third birthday. Mercifully, there is no surviving picture of it.
With that failure under my belt, I was ready to move on (and up, so I hoped). I borrowed a cake pan from a crafty US expat neighbor and managed to make this for Alexa's birthday:

(I made Mallory a Teletubby cake that year. No good pic, sorry.)

Tya's best friend needed a cake soon after. I felt brave and drew this pony for her- no fancy pan or any instructions. Just me and the icing.
This next one is one from 2001. The kids at the party thought it was a bit alarming. It's definitely one of the scarier cakes ever made in Burkina, I'm thinking. It's not an original design, though- I got the idea out of a cake decorating magazine. It was baked in a teddy-bear cake pan. Looking back, I maybe just should have made a teddy bear...

When Valentine was deep into her Harry Potter phase, I made her this Hedwig cake. It's my own design and I think it turned out pretty spiffy.

After a while, I had enough experience that I felt ready to venture into more complicated projects. I made a character cake, without using a custom pan or accessories. I grabbed the video box, took a long look at Buzz Lightyear and started drawing in icing.

Next Tuesday, stop by to see SpongeBob, Pikachu and many more cartoon characters, entirely made out of sugar. Maybe that doesn't sound too exciting, but it's better than the alternative.

Remember, you can only choose one.

"Cake or death?"

In the "comments" section of my previous post, I was repeatedly congratulated for my restraint in not offering the erring English teacher a hearty punch in the face.

That would have been a very unlikely outcome. Even if he'd gone beyond telling me that "Americans sound dreadful" and ventured into "your momma wears army boots" territory, I wouldn't have offered him physical violence.
I'm from the "stern glare and sharp retort" school of martial arts.

And any stray temptation to resort to administering a good old American knuckle sandwich would certainly have been crushed by the possibility of getting six months in prison. That's the new penalty under French law for assaulting a teacher.
I know about this because our houseguest this weekend is a recently retired collége (junior high) teacher and he keeps up with the latest news. Apparently, France has crazy nutjob parents (or 'parents fous de noix de travail' which makes absolutely NO sense in French, btw), just like the USA and a few French teachers have been punched out in the playground. No wonder people are so freaked out about "Americanisation"...

We were about halfway through our little talk today when the twins’ English teacher suddenly pronounced «Americans sound dreadful!»

I burst out laughing, even though I knew he hadn’t meant to be funny. I had to. My choices at that point were: «laugh uproariously» or «slap him silly» and if I ended up in prison on assault charges, I wouldn’t be able to write in my blog, right?

It’s pretty amazing that I kept so cool. When I’d walked into the classroom, one of the first things I’d said was «I’m an American» and now he was telling me that I (and my girls!) sounded «dreadful»?

What on earth was the man thinking?


All I could do was laugh at him. And he looked totally surprised. Completely shocked.
I ventured a mild «Perhaps you sometimes find the accent a bit harsh to your ears?»


«No, I mean it sounds really dreadful.» he insisted.
It was really getting old.

The conversation had started out reasonably well. When I arrived, I’d immediately started speaking English, though he kept answering in French. but after a while, he finally switched to English. He spoke it reasonably well-not like a native speaker, but quite correctly- with a very British accent. I'd expected worse.

I introduced myself and explained that our family speaks English at home- I didn’t begin with any of my own concerns about the class. Instead, I asked how he thought the girls were doing. He complained that Mallory often ignores the lesson at hand and skips ahead in the textbook. He also said she didn’t talk much in class.

I pointed out that spending a week learning how to say «Hello. My name is Mallory» was probably pretty dull for a child who reads huge novels in English. I also mentioned that she probably didn’t feel a need to «practice» her English, as she already speaks it perfectly.

I asked about the accent issue and he said it wasn’t one.
«They‘re perfect . The girls sound just like the language tapes we use.»

It was a bit of a WTF moment for me. I began to wonder if the twins were using a British accent when they spoke at school. But I didn’t think so. Not really.


And then he came up with his «Americans sound dreadful» remark.

None of it added up. He didn’t seem like a horrible person. Astoundingly dim, perhaps, but not horrible. Why would he sit there and tell me to my face that I sound dreadful?
And why did he think the twins sounded fine?


First, I pointed out that, with 300 million people using it, an American accent is not only acceptable, it is by far the most common.
He answered ( for the third time!!) «But it’s dreadful!»
I’d really had enough.
«You’re sitting there and telling me that I sound dreadful?» I accompanied this with what my kids call my «Eyes of Doom». (If the "Eyes of Doom" came equipped with a deadly brain-melting ray, I SO would have used it on him.)


«No! of course not!» he looked quite shocked. «You speak perfectly normally, as do your daughters. Until now, I’d actually thought they were British…»


Normally? Normally?!

«An American accent IS normal. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you! And don’t you hear mine? Can’t you tell the difference between the way you are speaking and the way I am?　The differences in pronunciation? Can‘t you hear it?»

No, he couldn’t.

Here’s the deal- besides being a dope, the guy apparently has NO ear for language. He literally couldn’t hear the difference between my slightly internationalized, but still recognizable Midwestern English from Nebraska and his own very British English. It hardly seems possible that a language teacher could be so clueless, but there you go.


As he was such a dope, there was no use in being subtle. I finally said «The reason I came here was to make sure you didn’t think that the twins had a «dreadful», incorrect accent and hold it against them. But as you can’t hear it, I guess it’s not an issue…»

We talked some more, but it seemed kind of hopeless. The whole exchange was so nonsensical.

The only good that came of it was that I was able to make it clear that the girls know more English than he does and that it’s not surprising that the lessons often can’t hold their interest. And now he knows that he’d better be on his toes, or I’ll come back for another nice chat.

And here’s a question for you: Is the average American accent really any worse-sounding than a Liverpool or Birmingham accent?

I don’t think so.

Not that it matters to me, as I am apparently now speaking the Queen’s English…

Here's what's going on in my life right now (in no particular order)

1. My cold/flu has gotten worse. The constant, wracking cough is quite the deal, let me tell you.

2. I now have 7 (count 'em: SEVEN) English students now and may even be getting an 8th one this month. I've had to add a second class on Wednesday mornings. Furthermore, the father of one of my students might be up for private lessons, as well. I haven't advertised or anything- it's just been word of mouth- and I'm astounded at how well it's going!

3. The meeting with the anti-AmE English teacher at the twins' school has been set! I'll be seeing him at 11:45 this coming Monday. It will be my unenviable task to point out to him that there are over 250 MILLION people living in the USA and that, contrary to his belief, they are not all speaking English wrong.
Good luck to me.

4. For the last few weeks I have been reading the Laura Ingalls Wilder books to my girls at bedtime. They are 11 and 16 years old, but still like to cuddle up on my bed and be read to. It's the best time of the whole day... Tonight we're starting "By the Shores of Silver Lake". Great stuff, written in solid American English.

5. We have a houseguest arriving tomorrow for the weekend. C. is an old friend of JP's. He's from a little town in the Vosges mountains that is famous for linens- sheets, towels, tablecloths, dishcloths, etc. I guess he couldn't take the excitement anymore and decided to come for a nice rest ches nous. Our village is very soothing, containing no shops of any kind - it features a church, a tiny school and many, many, many cows.
He'll stay until Monday. C. is a nice guy and low-maintenence, which is good.

That's it for now. I really need to get some sleep and try to shake this cold. It's completely ruining my enjoyment of the gorgeous fall weather we've been having...

Ah- the myriad joys of sending perfectly bilingual kids to a public school in France. Here's just one of them:

Yesterday evening, I asked the twins how school had gone.

"You had English today, right?"

"Yeah. It was ok, I guess" Alexa aswered with a sigh.

My 'mom radar', though damaged by my recent ill-health, is still operational, so I asked her what the trouble was.

"He told me how to pronounce the word "drawing", she announced, rather disgusted.

The entire sentence was said with a solid, made-in-the-USA accent, except for the word "drawing", which she pronounced with a drawling "a" that made her sound like Queen Elizabeth being poked in the rear with a sharp stick.

And that was the last straw.

I asked her to get out her "carnet de liason" and wrote a note to the school- an urgent request for a meeting with the English teacher.

This incident is just the latest in a series. The teacher INSISTS on correcting my girls' vocabulary and accent, refusing to accept AmE (American English) as a legitimate form of the language.

It isn't just a matter of pronouncing a few vowels differently. While AmE and BrE are mutually intelligible, there are many differences in verb morphology, the use of tenses, vocabulary and a host of other areas.

Even the use of definite articles is a bit different. In BrE, for example, certain institutions take NO definite article.

So, for example, if one of the twins would inform the teacher that "My mom is mad and she's going to put you in the hospital, buddy", the French English teacher would correct her and explain that the right way to say that sentence is " My mum is angry and she is going to put you in hospital, mate".

In short, it seems that I need to go to the school and politely explain that about 250 million or so people live in the USA and speak English just fine, thanks.

Should be fun...

I'm still feeling under the weather and not like writing much.
Luckily, I have plenty of pictures to share.

A couple of weeks ago, I walked home in the rain. It wasn't miserable at all. in fact, I thought it was rather nice and was inspired to take a few photos. Here's a shot that highlights some local characteristics. For example, there's a couple of billboards on the side of the barn -a common way to pick up a few euros. And under the billboards, you can see the wood stacked up for the winter. People are serious about their wood around here.

This is why our little corner of France is called "The Green Valley":

When I pass by this house, I always peek in and say "bonjour" to their "goat". It's really well-done, isn't it? I just might get inspired to make my own trompe l'oeil one of these days...

When I get to this curve in the road, I know I'm almost home. (The front edge of our house is just visible at the center of the photo)
So, as you can see, we really are out in the country. We have a few neighbors, but they're pretty scattered. But despite the sometimes sparse socialization, we keep busy.

I particularly enjoy cooking and am constantly experimenting with new recipes. Here's a raspberry chocolate tiramisu that I recently concocted with some berries from our garden.
Our garden is almost all over and done now. There are about seven cabbages left, a few beets and a single pumpkin that I'm fattening up for Halloween.

Our sole apple tree is also ready to harvest. They're just plain old red apples, but they taste amazing when you get them right off the tree. We're eating the prettiest ones out of hand and making applesauce out of all the rest

Finally- today I woke up and got to work on a special project- a birthday cake for my eldest daughter's best friend. As he's also the drummer in their rock band, I decided that he should have a drum kit cake. I'm pretty sure it's the only drum-themed cake in the Haute Savoie -possibly in all of France...

What's more fun than having a really rotten case of the flu?
How about having the flu AND having about a quarter of your maxillary 2nd premolar break off?
That's some fun.

I wasn't even doing anything- just chewing on a lightly toasted and marmite-covered bit of bread.

To top it off, the dentists around here are booked up like you wouldn't believe. I called several offices and most could only offer me an appointment around mid-October. When I finally contacted a place that would give me a slot for Monday afternoon, I was pathetically grateful.

But now it's starting to hurt more and I'm thinking that the next five days might get pretty grim...

I woke up on Saturday morning and my first thought was "OMG! I have a hangover?!"

Then I realized that:

a. I hadn't drank any alcohol the night before. At all.

b. I hadn't had a drink all month, even.

and also

c. The last time I had a hangover was probably 20 years ago.

This didn't actually make me fell any better. Quite the opposite. I would have been comforted to have a simple cause behind the dry mouth, pounding head, nausea and general aches...one that would mean it would all go away by the end of the day.

Alas, the convulsive sneezing began and kicked off a long, miserable weekend that promises to turn into a long, miserable week.

I've missed my blog and my blog friends. I haven't had my computer on for the last three days. That means that not only have I not been posting, I haven't even been able to keep up with my fave blogs and leave comments, as I am wont to do. Rest assured that I have not abandoned my blog, or yours.

Also, many thanks to those of you have sent kind emails asking about my unusual silence.

I am off for a nice lie-down now....

I saw the previews on the internet and they made the show look very amusing. But I'd learned my lesson with "The Hangover" and was not going to take anything for granted.
Maybe it was a trick.
So, I looked up the dvd of "Lost in Austen" on Amazon.com and read the reviews there. They were nearly 100% raving positive. Adjectives like "delighful", "light-hearted" and "fun" showed up often. And I was was repeatedly promised that any true Austen fan would simply adore this British TV mini-series.
Reassured, I carefully downloaded the original, full version and then settled down to watch it with my children.
And guess what?
I didn't like it.
At all.
It was badly-written, vulgar and had plot holes big enough for a particularly large apatosaurus to walk through. And how I wished one would have done so and mercilessly trampled the people responsible for the script. But I digress...

First of all, here's the Amazon blurb describing the plot :
"Amanda Price is sick of the modern world. She yearns for the romance and elegance found in the books by her favorite author, Jane Austen. But she's about to get a rude awakening as one fateful evening, she is propelled into the scheming 19th century world of Pride and Prejudice while that book's Elizabeth Bennet is hurled into hers. As the book's familiar plot unfolds, Amanda triggers new romantic twists and turns within the Bennet family circle as she clumsily tries to help the sisters nab husbands and even captivates the tantalizing Mr. Darcy herself. But what about Elizabeth...and what will become of one of the world's greatest love stories"

Not that it's accurate-from the moment the heroine steps through the magical bathroom wall-door, nothing goes according to the plot of the novel. And it's strange that this supposed "fan" of Austen, who has read 'Pride and Prejudice' a hundred times, doesn't even blink an eye when a major character shows up immediately, long before he's supposed to.

The problems with the plot are too numerous to go through one by one. But here's an example: Amanda prances around the Bennet household for a day wearing her 21st century pants and top. Nobody seems the least bit surprised or shocked. And when one of the sisters finally remarks on her "unusual" clothing, she tells them it's her "otter-hunting kit". Right.

The really horrible moments, though, arise from Amanda's 21st century vulgarity. While she's supposedly someone whose always dreamed of living in the elegant civility of the past, she seems to have a LOT of trouble curbing her mouth and her behavior. She gets drunk at a ball, insults people (even when not drunk) with charming epithets such as "bumface" ('buttface' to you Americans out there) and just basically wreaks havoc. So much for making an effort at fitting in.

Many of the plot problems stem from the fact that the scriptwriters apparently never read the original book. For example, when Amanda arrives, Mr. Bennet offers her Lizzie's bed. Anybody who has read the book even once knows that Jane and Lizzie share both a bedroom and a bed. But Amanda goes upstairs to the room and it's all hers alone, with a single bed. And then she wakes up, surprised and shocked to find Lydia in bed beside her. She accuses her of looking for "girl on girl action" and then, in the biggest gross-out moment of the film, she flashes her "pubes" at poor Lydia and talks about her "landing strip".

Are films based on Jane Austen booked supposed to have gross-out moments?

I don't think so.

It was really repulsive and gratuitous. It has nothing to do with the plot- in fact, it made no sense at all, and was not even funny. Especially for people trying to watch with their family.

It's such a shame, as the idea was cute and there were a few good moments in the film. Not many- but a few.

Frankly, I don't know what to make of all these self-described "Austen fans" who "love 'Pride and Prejudice' saying that this is a great show and that it does Austen proud.

They are possibly all on crack.

finally, since I hate write only negative things... which I seem to do a lot of lately - here's my hint for the day to make your life better: If you are an "Austen fan" just because you have read 'Pride and Prejudice' (or because you think Colin Firth is hot when he's all wet), please take the time to read some OTHER novel by Jane Austen besides P&P.

May I suggest 'Persuasion' ?

It's the last book that Austen finished before her death at age 42. It's my favorite and is probably the most deeply touching of all her novels. If you must have a movie, get the Amanda Root (1995) version, NOT the 2007 version. The latter makes too many changes to the plot. On top of that, male characters tend to spend 'quality time' together, confiding their innermost feelings to each other...I was expecting a drum circle at one point. This male-bonding advances the plot faster, but is not very true to the spirit of the novel.

Anyway, I hope you'll read it. And if you've already done so, maybe I've inspired you to get it out again...

BTW: "Pride and Prejudice and Zombies"? No, no and again, no. Thank you.

My two eldest start rehearsals this Friday night. Yes, the local 'School of Rock' is finally in session! They are, as you may imagine, pretty excited.
It all seems quite well-organised. There is a large, well-equipped rehearsal space in the basement of a defunct post office and teachers that seem very competant and well-liked by the students. They even have the year's schedule worked out already and we've been informed that the first concert will be held in mid-December. The theme this year is... Pink Floyd.
Not that I have any kind of grudge against the music of Pink Floyd.
It's just so...old.
And even worse , the theme last year was....wait for it....The Beatles. It was a great choice- can't go wrong-something for everbody, etc... But why did they have to choose another group from the exact same time period for this year's show?
While I'll admit that the 60's and early 70's were very important (crucial, vital, etc) in the development of modern rock music, time did not stop in 1975.

The middle aged guys behind this local conspiracy would probably argue "It's classic! It's Rock Canon!" But I'm not sure that's the best criterion. For example, I love listening to Sarah McLachlan and Paula Cole. Heart-on-the-sleeve women songwriters like these owe lots to Joni Mitchell. Thanks very much, Joni. She's "canon" and "classic" and all that good stuff. But do I really want to listen to her? Not so much. In fact, I cannot stand listening to old Joni Mitchell stuff. "Both Sides Now" actually makes me throw up a little.

I feel the same way about Pink Floyd. Thanks for influencing groups like Genesis and Nine Inch Nails. Now let's move on, m'kay?

I don't really feel that I can burst in on their little male, past-worshipping enclave and give my opinion, though. Though the fact that I'm US-born probably gives me a certain amount of musical cred, it will only take me so far. Which is not very. So, I'm thinking that I'll have to at least wait until next year to give my input. Certainly if they come up with Cream or The Who, Something Will Have to Be Done. It's fine stuff all, but it's just more of the same.

Have these people never heard of U2? REM? The Police? And how about newer groups like Green Day and Muse? I have to think this would be more fun for the kids than ressurecting the same dusty old zombies year after year...

We were in the car by nine this morning, heading to the local thrift shop. Thrift shops aren't that common in France...in our region there's just one and it's always terribly crowded. The best thing to do is get there before opening time and wait in line.

This early crowd is full of old, only slightly seeding-looking, white Frenchmen. These are the brocantes- the guys that own antique/secondhand/junk shops. They make their living by getting in early and snapping up all the good stuff befor anyone else can buy it. Then it goes into their shops to be sold at a huge markup.

To be fair, the competition (aka the rest of the clientele), for the most part, is not looking for charming antiques that have been unwisely thrown out by people who didn't realise their value. Most of the folks are minority families -folks that probably weren't doing that great even before the current economic crise. They are quite often North Africans with quite a few kids in tow and looking for a sturdy bunk bed or a working stove.
There are only a few families that look like they might be a bit more like my own- relatively privileged, but still trying to keep within a sensible budget.

I was mainly looking for books. I'm a bit of a book addict and if I bought only new ones to feed my habit, we'd be broke in a few months. Luckily, my parents are great about sending books and I also have some friends in the village to exchange books with.
Then there's the "Livres en Anglais" shelves at the Emmaus.
Today I found a recent biography of Jane Austen by Pulitzer Prize winner Carol Shields. It was marked at 2 euros and the guy sold it to me for 1!
Win!
I also bought an AC/DC songbook that the kids wanted for their fledgling rock band. It's from the US and marked at $ 24.99 . But the Emmaus had it priced at 3 euros.... and sold it for 1. Another epic win!
We picked up a few other things, but those were the highlights.

After lunch, we walked up to the village (about a mile away) for Saint Maurice's Fair, which is held there every September. There were stands selling candy, clothes, baskets, chairs and just about anything else you can think of. There were also plenty of cattle being shown off in the competitions, sporting wide, heavily decorated leather collars and huge bells. Mallory was worried that they must be too heavy for the cows' necks. I, on the other hand, thought they looked rather proud of their fancy gear...

I found this in my gmail inbox this morning:
Dear BurkaMom*-
I was searching for reviews of my new album on Google today and came across your blog post which placed my song Beth in your top 5 "in" things. I've no idea how you found it, since I didn't promote that album at all, but I'm glad you did, and thankful for the mention and your patronage.
My new album, "The End of Suffering", comes out on November 3 on Incurable Eclectic Records and will be available on iTunes, Amazon et al. Hopefully you'll find something to hum along with on this album as well!
Cheers,
Ken Flagg
(* he later sent a second email, apologising for misspelling my 'nom de blog')


When I was a kid, I never wrote to my favorite stars. One of my friends wrote to Donny Osmond. Twice. And never even got an autographed picture (with which she was hoping to torment the rest of us into fits of terrible jealousy, so that probably worked out for the best).
At any rate, this early experience, indirect as it was, put to rest any vague thoughts of fangirldom.
And that's good.
Otherwise, after listening to the song "Beth" obsessively every day for a month, I might have written to Ken Flagg. And he would have thought I was a pathetic, yet creepy, stalker.
But instead of that, he wrote to me! How cool is that?

I thought it was very gracious of him to thank me for my very brief mention of his work in my previous blog post. He seems like a nice (as well as obviously talented) guy. In fact, he seems so nice and talented that I've taken the trouble to track down a few of the songs off his unreleased album, give them a listen and review them here on my blog.

So, here it is- the first ever music review by BurkinaMom!

"The End of Suffering" is very different from Flagg's first album. This time around, he seems determined to show what he can do - and that seems to be just about everything. He slides between genres with ease and grace, always adding his own quirky signature to everything he touches.
"Pieces" is a heartfelt ballad that showcases the sweetly intellectual side of him, which is what first hooked me on his music. It's definitely one of my favorites.
In direct contrast is "Mountain Girl", a determined rock anthem, complete with screaming guitar solo. He does indeed "rock the hell" (as one reviewer wrote) out of the song. I won't go into the lyrics here ("your peaks sublime", etc), but I think (fervently hope) he means them as a parody of silly rock songs.
"When the Sun Sets in the Eastern Sky" is Brazilian on the surface, but delightfully geeky to the core. Flagg admits in his bio to being a geek. Hey- who else would rhyme "myriad dreams and hopes" with "barren field of isotopes"?
"Candyman" has an infectious alt-rocker energy and sounds like something my teenagers will want to load on their iPods.

I haven't heard full versions of every song, but I really get the impression that this is a strong album. The variety of musical styles could have led to a very disjointed feel. But Flagg's musical vision is very keen and he keeps everything on target. The songs are all very different, but all very "Flagg".

I wish him the best of luck and healthy sales figures!

Another Awesome List

In keeping with the great "Taciturn Tuesday" tradition, I reduced yesterday's post to complete silence. Which is as taciturn as it gets. So, like, yay for me, right?

It's Wednesday morning and I've just gotten home after driving JP to the Swiss border for his bi-weekly commute into Geneva. I typically enjoy the drive a lot. On the way there, JP and I chat. Then on the way back, I listen to some awesome podcast or another.

But today, I didn't listen to my lastest download. Instead, I pondered this: I love lists. I really do. I usually start my day with a to-do list and then take probably an unhealthy satisfaction in crossing off each item as it is accomplished.

I enjoy responding to the Facebook notes that ask me to name my favorite movies, books, cities, whatever.

And when I read a blogpost in list-form by someone else, I think it's SO interesting, be it "My ten favorite non-prescription medications" or "Forty two reasons not to annoy my cousin Chad".

So, it's very odd that I actually post very few lists on my blog. I think there's just one- the one that gives several key signs that you have lived in Ouagadougou too long.

That being the case, today I present to you no less than TWO lists: What's In According to BurkinaMom and What's Out according to BurkinaMom. These aren't thoughtful and long-considered- they're just some of the things I currently like and some of the stuff I am So Over.

What's IN:

1. A Way With Words - It's like broccolli for your brain, but it tastes GOOD!!!   This public radio show is where Martha and Grant make you smarter in all things English language related and at the same time, show you a good time.  A GREAT time even!!!( I keep telling you to download this show.  DO it!!)

2. Marmite on whole wheat toast- It's like having a big lump of salt for breakfast, which to me is fabulous. Jam is out, yeast spread is in!

3. The song Beth by Ken Flagg - "She never smiles the same way twice and she always gives me good advice." I listen to it almost daily. (Find it on iTunes.)

4. Bella Buttons necklaces. I REALLY want one. I might just have to order one soon and call it an early Christmas gift to myself.

5. Episodes of The Guild on YouTube. - If you have ever played World of Warcraft, or know someone who does, you should give it a try. So funny. Felicia Day is a genius, bless her nerdy gamer heart. I read recently that the show is 'like "Friends" for geeks- only it's actually funny'. Very accurate, IMHO.

6. France- Yes, the entire country. I wrote some mean stuff in a recent post and I am apologising by declaring France Very In. (What I wrote was all true, though.)

What's OUT

1. Chai - I am SO over this. I drank lots in Ouaga and now I can't stand it. Can't say why...

2. 'This American Life' on NPR- This former fave of mine broadcast a few dull and/or lazy episodes last spring and they lost me. 'The Friendly Guy" and "Classifieds" were a couple of the culprits. (This one will probably be back on my 'in' list soon, but not quite yet. I'm still pouting.)

3. Television - You have to watch the programs according to a schedule determined by other people. How lame is that? I don't have the time to mess with it. Until I get TiVo (which in France will be, like, NEVER), I am declaring TV out.

4. Washing windows- I don't mind most housework. Really, I don't. But washing windows has got to be the most frustrating and thankless task of them all. So, washing windows is now officially out. I'm just going to keep the curtains closed 24/7. It's almost winter anyway and curtains keep the heat in, right?

5. The Sex Pistols- I listened to them when I was a kid -who in my generation didn't? But when I hear their old hits these days, all I can think is things like 'Why are they so angry?', 'Why do they have to yell all the time?', and 'Why are they on my childrens' iPods? Isn't this the 21st century?'

6. Couscous- It's like sand, only less tasty. And no, adding raisins doesn't help. I'm never eating or cooking it again, ever. It's out.

You may be familiar with the old saying 'What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas' ?

Well, on Saturday night, I needed what happened in the Rialto Cinema in Geneva to stay in the Rialto Cinema in Geneva.

The film ended and the lights came up. People started standing up and filing out.
I just sat there a while. Some kind of PSTD, I think.
Finally, I gathered my strength, turned to the four teenagers sitting beside me and said "We will never speak of this again. Ever. And for God's sake DON'T tell your parents about it."

It seemed like a good idea at the time is my only defense, and it's a pretty feeble one, I know. Anybody else in her right mind would probably know better than to take four teenagers (two of them not her own) to an American-made film called "The Hangover". Just from the title you know you're in for irresponsible drinking behavior modelling, at minimum.

I normally stay far away from "crazy bachelor party films". It seems like the absolutely laziest concept for a comedy, ever. But the preview I'd seen for this one made it look so...cute. It prominently featured the following: a fluffy white chicken, a Bengal tiger and an adorable baby wearing funky aviator sunglasses. What's not to love??

Well, a lot, it turns out- especially if you have a couple of 13 year old boys with you.

I actually don't go to many films. When I do, they tend to be kid/family films. I like nice films where you get to the end and the dialogue has not once included the word f**k.
Yes, I sure do.

This film, on the other hand, had that word and many other words, too. And also body parts. And one of the characters pretended to molest the tiger.

Looking back, I clearly see that we should have left. But the thing is, it was actually an ok film in some ways. The idea was clever and the story really drew you in, if you didn't think about it too hard. The main characters were likable and you really wanted to know if they'd find the baby's mom, get the tiger back to Mike Tyson, return the police car and get back home in time for the wedding.
And after each event/word/body part display that gave me qualms, I'd think Well, that's probably the worst of it. It will be fine now. But it never was.

And so it was that I found myself ordering the kids not to go into details when telling their families about our nice evening at the movies.

The film has been getting lots of love in the press. But some hate, too. My favorite, most scathing review is this one. And it's where I learned to be SO glad we didn't stay through the credits!!!

A rather brilliant blog-friend of mine recently wrote this:

If, as my Japanese Japanese-language instructor was fond of saying, "In English, the purpose of communication is to exchange information. In Japanese, the purpose of communication is to not hurt anyone's feelings." Then, in French, the purpose of communication is argumentation.

I don't know Japanese and I've never been to Japan, so I can't speak to the truth on that matter. But as someone who is up close and personal with the French language and French culture, all I can say is: It's SO true!

Of course, French isn't all about the argument.
Oh no.
It's also about hiding information.

English is (certain scientific papers and purposely abstruse novels aside) all about clarity, brevity and giving 'just the facts, ma'm'. It can be a playful language, but in general, it doesn't jerk you around.

French, in contrast, is excellent for talking endless circles around a point and never getting there. And I'm convinced that this is so because French people don't want you to know anything.
Seriously.
Kind of.

Over the years, with the full agreement of my very French husband, I have come to the conclusion that French culture is, at some deep level, an insiders' culture. The basic information that you need in order to get around, work and live is not easily available. Even if you peruse all the booklets, read all the road signs and just ask right out, point blank, you ( the sad outsider not lucky enough to be born and raised in France) will find it very, very hard to find out the basic things you must know to get by.

Whereas US culture often seems like it's aimed at a population that has no common sense (hence we find the plastic coffee cups that read Caution: Hot beverages are hot! and the packages of peanuts that say Warning: May contain nuts), French culture and the resulting societal infrastructure assume that if you don't already have certain information, you probably don't really need, deserve or have any right to it, anyway.
So, why should they make it easy for you?

Just driving on French roads is a trial for someone used to the well-marked highways in the USA. JP and I made lots of roadtrips in the States, back in the day before GPS and GoogleMaps, so I can attest to the fact that you can actually use roadsigns to find your way around the US.
In France, not so much. The indicators tend to be sporadic and disappear at crucial junctions. This is particularly true on the 'departement' roads, where one minute you're driving to Tours and the next you're at a roundabout that indicates four different towns, none of them Tours.
If you don't already know where you're going, you're never going to get there.
And, sadly, this is true in most other areas of French life.

This year, our daughters started at collège (see previous posts for details). The school sent reams of paper, chock- full of information. We were informed of the many classes there were, shown the floor plan of the school and told that the principal was hoping the children would have a good rentrée. We were NOT however, given any info about things like how to use the cafeteria or take the bus.

When JP went to the "information" evening at the school, they spent 2 hours reading outloud all the information off the papers they'd previously sent to the parents. Any word about buses or lunches or any other pressing matter not covered by the papers?

Nope.
The "information night", it turns out, was more of a social event than an actual tool for giving out useful facts. French people are nothing if not very social. They like that sort of thing. They'd much rather sit around chatting with each other in a classroom than sit all alone at home reading a silly old bit of paper.
And the details of school life? They know it all already. Nearly all of the parents went to the school when they were kids. It's obvious how the cafeteria works and the sports association and the bus service. Perfectly obvious. If you were born here.
If you weren't, your only dependable source for info will be other parents.
The trick is, of course, getting them to talk to you. It's a problem because French people deeply dislike talking to people they don't already know. In fact, most of them don't even like talking to people who aren't in their own family.

While the average US citizen can handle being addressed by a stranger in the street and, in fact, is usually pleased to be able to show how much they know about the neighborhood, local restaurants, buses, etc, the average French person is taken aback and, though he might possibly answer your question, no elaborations will be offered. You'll get the strict minimum.

Example:
Confused American: "Excuse me. Is this the stop for the bus to Annemasse?"
French person also standing at the bus stop: "Yes." *moves to stand as far away as possible*

In contrast:
Confused French person: "Excuse me. Is this the stop for the bus to Omaha?"
American person also waiting: "Why yes, it is. But you have to be careful. You want the number 32, not the number 23. That one also stops here, but it will take you to Red Cloud. I'm going to Omaha, though, so you just get on when I do, Ok? And you have correct change for the fare, right? You have to have correct change. Good. So, where are you from? Would you like a piece of gum?"

We see in this sample conversation (which I completely and totally made up, but which manages to convey the underlying structure of many, many exchanges I have seen or been in) that the French person is not sharing what he knows. In fact, the French person in the first exchange knows that the day is a public holiday and no buses are running at all. He is not waiting for a bus, but is actually waiting for his cousin to pick him up. But he wasn't asked for details and sure as heck isn't going to volunteer any to a complete stranger! Quelle horreur!

On the other hand, in the second scenario, the English-speaker offers lots of other relevant information ( as well as a confectionary treat!). She assumes that if you asked about the bus, that means you probably want to get on it and go somewhere. And she is pleased that she can help you with this is some small way.

With the French, everything is assumed, and nothing. They'll assume that you have plenty of friends and family and have no need of any friendship from them. They'll assume that you have all the information that you need for your life to function smoothly. Doing otherwise would be, for them, tantamount to assuming that you are an idiot- which isn't very nice, right?
So, they don't mean it in a bad way, really...
On the other hand they wouldn't dare assume that just because you ask about a bus, you might want to actually ride on it. Or just because your kids are enrolled in a school, they might need to eat lunch there. That would be so presumptuous!

Actually, I'd have to say that they mostly just plain don't like outsiders. And helping outsiders become insiders is not the French idea idea of fun.

Being a foreigner in France requires becoming a skilled player of Twenty Questions. You ask and ask and ask some more. You persist until you are pretty sure you have the subject narrowed down to its smallest elements. And even then, there's probably stuff nobody's going to tell you.

And don't think you're going to use the internet to help out. There's lots of vital stuff in France that has no web-presence. For example, my kids' schools (both big schools-one private and one public) don't even have websites.

There's too much stuff they just don't want you to know.

It was Sir Francis Bacon who wrote that "knowledge is power". (He was British, but don't think that the French don't believe this with every fiber of their being.) It's power and not something to be freely given to just anybody, especially if that anybody is not exactly from around here.

Growing up, I read the entire series of Laura Ingalls Wilder's "Little House" books approximately eleventy billion times. I'm talking major love, here.
Drawn from her real-life adventures, Wilder's mostly gentle descriptions of her 19th century farm life made me dream of being a pioneer girl (minus the diptheria and crop failures, of course).


Her books did not, however, make me dream of going to or being a teacher in a one-room schoolhouse. Her mother taught in one before getting married and Wilder herself went to a few different schools as her family moved around the country. At age 15 she earned a teaching certificate and taught for a few years. So Wilder knew the topic quite well...and what she had to say was not good. (I won't go into detail. Read the books, if you haven't yet.)

But when we put our twin daughters into the local school here in our little corner of France, I went in with an open mind. Optimistic, even. One room, one teacher, three grades and 17 students...it wouldn't be so bad. It might even be good? It's not the 19the century any more. It's not even the 20th century, right?

I ended up spending a lot of time helping at the school. About once a week, I ran the tiny village library so that the students could check out books there. I was always available to accompany the class on outings ( ski week, folk dancing, cross-country racing, etc..) And finally, I ended up teaching English there twice a week for about five months.

This gave me a chance to see how a small school in a tiny French village actually works. And this is an interesting question. The village school is a point of pride to many small communities in this country. Few villages, no matter how minuscule, seem to want to have their children put in vans and driven off to a bigger school, no matter how nearby and well-equipped that school may be. They all want their own school- and that means the old one-room schoolhouse format is still a going concern in France. That's not to say they do it very well, but these schools are still very common. And there is a huge uproar when local councils try to close them down due to lowered enrollments and/or lack of funds. (Here's a recent piece from Le Monde where a teacher reports about the horrible state of a village school in France. I'm not the only one saying this stuff.)

There was sure an uproar around here last spring when the council announced that the La Corbiere school would need to be closed down. That's the school near our house- the one that housed a single class of first and second graders (CP + CE1). The one that I helped out at was the main school in the mayor's office- a single room for the 17 third, fourth and fifth graders (CE2, CM1 + CM2). The threat of the closure of the Corbiere school had the locals all up in arms. There were meetings and protests and all kinds of fuss.

Me? I just stayed out of it. I had no desire to start an argument and become a pariah in this small village of just over 500 people. I have enough trouble fitting in, thanks very much. Despite all my friendly ways and volunteer work at the school, I figured that my village cred could all be undone in an instant if I voiced my true opinion of the beloved one-room village school.
But I'm feeling a tiny bit brave today (and somewhat annoyed- you'll see why a bit further down) so I'm going to share my concerns with you, my faithful blog-friends.

Here's the deal: I lived for nine years in West Africa.

I visited many schools, I went to elementary schools to give presentations and I even taught sunday school for many of those years. Burkinabé schools typically have more than 80 students in one small, hot, dark classroom. Over 100 is not uncommon. But when an adult walks into the classroom, be it the teacher or a guest, you can hear a pin drop. A small pin covered in bubble wrap. Seriously. The kids are quiet and they listen when an adult speaks.
French kids in France?
Not so much.
And I suspect that French kids are no worse than the US ones, Canadians, or kids anywhere else in the developed world. In general, they don't have any kind of automatic respect for the authority of adults- even teachers. Most of them know that if there is any conflict or problem in the classroom, their parents will support them against the teacher. Also, they expect to be entertained all the time, even in a classroom environment. The days where the teacher could expect the students to sit for an hour and work on memorising the major exports of every nation in South America are long over.

A one-room school can work well if the children are polite, respectful, obedient and hard-working. (These kids do still exist, as I mentioned previously, mostly in Africa, as far as I can tell.)
If , however, the students are accustomed to interrupting others, doings as they please and can't concentrate for more than five minutes at a time, the formula is not a successful one. The classrooms are noisy, nobody can work effectively and the overwhelmed teacher ends up spending far to much time on discipline.

I was lucky to be teaching English- the students found it interesting and saw the point of learning it. And I was able to find and/or invent lots of games and creative ways of teaching. We'd sing and dance, I'd bring in props, we'd go outdoors, I'd bring in guests, etc.

But the regular teacher, struggling to teach all the usual subjects to all the different levels of student? Good luck making that constantly fun and fascinating. A lot of learning is just work, and that's all there is to it.

All this in mind, I didn't see the closing of the Corbiere school as a bad thing. On the contrary, I thought that putting the students in the bigger school in a larger town about 4km away would be a good thing. They'd be in dedicated, single-grade classrooms, have access to a gym, more computers, better equipment...and probably a less stressed teacher.

But this was NOT a thing to say to someone in our own little school-proud village. So I kept my mouth shut and ignored the fuss. My kids were leaving the village system anyway, getting ready to go to the junior high (collège) in town.

So, it was only this month that I found out that the Corbiere students were NOT sent to the well-equipped school over in Boege.
Oh no- that would make too much sense.
What happened was the children were all sent to the tiny village classroom where I taught last year- a space that had already seemed crowded with 17 students. This year it holds 26. They range from 1st grade to 4th grade (CP to CM1) and there's one miserable teacher trying to deal with them all. How that poor woman is helping the little ones to get on in a real school (as opposed to maternelle/kindergarten) and teaching them how to read at the same time as teaching all the older ones, I really don't know.

On Saturday afternoon, I saw one of my English students from last year. She's in CM1 this year. "How's school going?" I asked her.
"The teacher yells a lot", she answered. "More than last year."
I'm not saying that's a good way to deal with an unruly classroom, but I can only feel completely sorry for the unfortunate teacher and students forced into this situation...