Monday, October 26, 2009 Noon
Everyday of my life is a hilarious adventure. I know I say this just about every time, but it’s true. Sometimes I get aggravated at the adventures when they’re not what I want them to be and sometimes I become overwhelmed because there are too many adventures happening and I just want to relax and do nothing sometimes. I often miss the familiar comfort of the adventures I’m used to having but the fact of the matter is, complacency, as much as people seem to think it does, doesn’t exist. That being said, I have had a hilarious morning and only now, sitting at the library am I getting grumpy because of yet another misplaced stitch in the quilt known as Martinique. I’m a little pissed off because I forgot my wireless key and since my the one built into my laptop stopped working the day before I left, I don’t have the interwebs. Great.
So, my hilarious morning: It started off great with a run and plenty of relaxation and eating breakfast seated on the island our recently completed kitchen. Sunlight was pouring through the windows and these birds kept flying in and out of our apartment. I have a super view of the ocean from the kitchen window and was drinking my local coffee and eating fruit. Life can’t go wrong with a morning like that. When I went upstairs to grab the clean laundry, Youma asked me to help her get the kittens into a cage. No problem- I happen to have a lot of experience with that. The first four were an easy success. She lured them with food- brilliant. Then, there are the two “savages” who don’t like people one bit and wouldn’t come out. After a bit of running around, I finally grabbed one of them by the scruff of the neck and dropped it in with the others. The last one was a total disaster. We finally cornered it and I reached through an ivy-like plant growing over a stationary exercise bike which looks like it hasn’t been used in at least ten years and got a hand on it. Well, that hand was quickly destroyed. The bastard not only scratched me but sunk its jaw into my wrist twice. Quick evacuation to the kitchen and Youma poured clear rum over my hand. Brilliant, classic old-time medicine with all the perks of smelling like an alcoholic. So, we resumed the mission and Youma tried this time but it kitten literally jumped off the balcony, down at least 15 feet and made its escape. Back to the wild with your ancestors, wild thing. If you were wondering where the wild things are, they’re in Martinique.
Youma is letting me keep a kitten and when I leave, she plans to give it away. Of course, I fell in love with the scrawniest, ugliest, smallest most pathetic looking of all the kittens. She reminded me this morning not to have the same mentality when falling in love with a man. Practical woman. After this excitement, I went back to hanging my laundry up and had a fun time navigating the piles of puppy shit laying around everywhere. After getting all my affairs together, I walked 5 minutes and realized I forgot my bus pass. Back up the big hill in the full, warm sunshine of 10:30, unlock door, find pass, relock door, down the hill again to wait at the bus stop for hours and hours and hours of my life. Wish I’d remembered my wifi key, too. Oh well.
Ran some errands (pharmacy to get some sort of cream to get rid of my heat rash? It’s all a little sketchy… then the post office to buy more stamps and find out it will cost 35 euros to send a 1 kilo package with a 2-4 day guarantee. Daieee) and then a bus to campus. French people infuriate me, sometimes. Walked over to say hi to a friend and when I cut across the slightly damp grass, she looked at me like I was crazy and said (in French), “why couldn’t you walk on the concrete path like everyone else.” Turns out, kid, I’m not like everyone else. But you’re not the first one to note it… In fact, kid, it’s what makes most people I know like me. Oh well.
Tell me how I am supposed to study when my mind is constantly reeling with all the insanity of my daily life? Beats me.
I had a great Sunday and a decent weekend. Thanks to babysitting until 2:30 am Friday night, I was super exhausted Saturday and decided not to go kayaking at 8:30 in the morning. Being tired made me super grumpy and when Youma entertained a friend downstairs in our space, my patience was on end. When she cooked steak in our kitchen filling my bedroom with the smell, I almost lost my sanity. But all turned out well. We went to a sweet tropical garden, le Jardin Balata where Kristen and I took lots of silly and rad pictures and Youma spent quality time with an old friend. Old and old. As in, they’d known each other for a long time and the guy was super old. . It was really tough for her to say goodbye when we dropped him off for the bus. He said “adieu” and refused to see “au revoir.” As Kristen said to me, Old people are sometimes depressing. True fact.
Sunday was awesome. Florence picked me up at 7:30 with Lucas in the car and we met up with another family and went for a 3- 3 1/2 hour hike on the coast. It was on the Atlantic coast, super beautiful and we could even make out Dominica in the distance. Hiking with kids is hilarious and something I greatly look forward to later in life. On the drive to the hike, Florence told me they’re going to miss me a lot when I leave. She told me next time I come to Martinique, I know where to go and who to call. She also said that if she goes to France, even, we could meet up there and I could stay at her parents house with her. Super!
So, after hiking, we went to the beach and met up with everyone else. It was sunny and beautiful, as usual. It was Helène’s birthday so we celebrated with Champagne and rum-cream filled éclair-like puffs. So good. I love my Sunday’s with Florence and company. They’re all really good natured and friendly and share and it’s fun to be immersed in French and even though I’m sort of the odd one out in so many ways, I feel welcome.
Weekend a success, morning kind of iffy but it’s pretty hilarious that I was bit by a kitten. Well, back to being a student. I need to figure out how to be a student without the stress part…
Love, Bethany
An important amendment to my post: When we went to the tropical garden, we stopped to get gas and the old German man bought a beer at the gas station. I wished I had my camera when the greatest thing of my week happened (better than being bitten by a savage cat and then pouring rum on the wound): he opened the beer and was drinking it with a straw but wasn’t buckled in so he handed the beer to Youma, who held it in her right hand WHILE DRIVING as he took forever to buckle in. It was amazing. Driving with a beer in hand. Oh, that Martinique. Almost as good as the two year old standing on the floorboards of the backseat of the car in which one out of 6 people was buckled in. LIVE FREE OR DIE. I’m going to say that here, dying is the more likely of the two options.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Friday, October 23, 2009
bodyboarding and babysitting
I am writing in real time, which rarely happens. I happen to be babysitting at a house which has internet access and have been taking full advantage of it... by facebook chatting with my sister. Il faut profiter, they say in Martinique. I am doing just that. Internet and nutella. The essentials...
Well, on to the other part. BODY BOARDING! Kristen and I went today with the athletic department of the university. There were about 8 of us total and we could choose between body board and surf (I think I might try surf next time...). The waves were big and, if not frequent enough, fun. I actually succeeded at doing it a few times but most of the other times I was swept underwater and all the force of a wave rushed up my sinuses and felt pretty terrible. But it was soooooooo funnnn. And I don't think I did too badly for my first time.
21 October 2009 Wednesday evening
Can someone please tell me when I became so laid back? And passive? And shy in classes? It’s so strange.
Well, as usual, every day is an adventure. Today’s adventure was a little more exciting than usual. I’ll skip past the waiting half an hour at the bus stop and two terribly boring hours of class and then our professor who is unreasonably physically affectionate talking to Kristen and I with his arms around my shoulders and asking me why I took my braids out, they were so pretty while sort of stroking my pony tail. Yes, strange things like this are a weekly occurrence. No, we’re not comfortable with it. He is, in fact, married. He’s just a touchy-feely sort of guy but as a professor definitely crosses a line. But, like our politician professor, I don’t think there’s much we can do about it. Oh well.
But on to the good part where it started dumping buckets this afternoon. It did the same thing yesterday mid-day. I guess it’s a good thing that it’s been raining because it’s the season for it and it’s been unreasonably warm recently. Or so they say. Yesterday, as I was running to the “country club” for a work out class at Sebastian’s studio, there was a flash and a crash and 5 minutes later, half way there, the sky opened up and in 15 seconds I was soaked. It was hilarious. So I did the class soaking wet with bare feet because I was running through rivers where I usually find sidewalks. I was laughing up a storm. (get it because there was a storm…)
So, I waited it out this afternoon and headed towards Fort de France to buy running shoes and stop to see my marchand. He was starting to pack up on account of the rain when I got there, so I gave him a hand loading oranges and avocados and bananas and whatever else into boxes. I have no idea how long I was there for, helping him and chatting about things but the relevant part of the story is what I walked away with. A quarter watermelon, a small cantaloupe, 3 tomatoes, 2 avocados, a baguette, a bunch of bananas, a handful of small peppers, 5 oranges, maybe 8 pommes cannelles, and a bag of farine de manicot which is a flour made from a root plant of some sort, and 3 red onions. Two FULL, heavy plastic bags full of food and he wouldn’t let me pay him.
As I started climbing the mountain I live on to get to the house, a very kind woman stopped and gave me a ride up the hill. I thanked her at least half a dozen times. Boy, my bags were heavy. Then, I get home to a further adventure. The downstairs, thanks to the insane rain (and the gigantic hill), had entirely flooded. Jobi worked all afternoon to mop it up but my bedroom door was locked and it was like a Christmas surprise you’re not looking forward to. I unlocked the door, turned the latch and stepped into an inch of water. Fortunately, I don’t keep anything on my floor. Jobi, while Kristen and I made/ate our dinner worked away mopping and sweeping. After my absurd house this summer which broke about a million times, it was nice to have a proprietor who does his job and then some.
So that was my fun for the day. Yesterday, as I said, was fun as well. I have a terrifying amount of reading/school work to do and very little motivation to be studious. If all goes as planned, tomorrow is African Dance and then Friday I am going to do body boarding (through the school athletic department) and then baby sit in the evening. If it’s nice Sunday, Florence, Sebastian, the kids and the same crowd (how I got hooked up with babysitting… many of the women take Seb’s exercise classes) are going to a beach on the Atlantic coast and I was invited along.
Not bad, eh?
Can someone please tell me when I became so laid back? And passive? And shy in classes? It’s so strange.
Well, as usual, every day is an adventure. Today’s adventure was a little more exciting than usual. I’ll skip past the waiting half an hour at the bus stop and two terribly boring hours of class and then our professor who is unreasonably physically affectionate talking to Kristen and I with his arms around my shoulders and asking me why I took my braids out, they were so pretty while sort of stroking my pony tail. Yes, strange things like this are a weekly occurrence. No, we’re not comfortable with it. He is, in fact, married. He’s just a touchy-feely sort of guy but as a professor definitely crosses a line. But, like our politician professor, I don’t think there’s much we can do about it. Oh well.
But on to the good part where it started dumping buckets this afternoon. It did the same thing yesterday mid-day. I guess it’s a good thing that it’s been raining because it’s the season for it and it’s been unreasonably warm recently. Or so they say. Yesterday, as I was running to the “country club” for a work out class at Sebastian’s studio, there was a flash and a crash and 5 minutes later, half way there, the sky opened up and in 15 seconds I was soaked. It was hilarious. So I did the class soaking wet with bare feet because I was running through rivers where I usually find sidewalks. I was laughing up a storm. (get it because there was a storm…)
So, I waited it out this afternoon and headed towards Fort de France to buy running shoes and stop to see my marchand. He was starting to pack up on account of the rain when I got there, so I gave him a hand loading oranges and avocados and bananas and whatever else into boxes. I have no idea how long I was there for, helping him and chatting about things but the relevant part of the story is what I walked away with. A quarter watermelon, a small cantaloupe, 3 tomatoes, 2 avocados, a baguette, a bunch of bananas, a handful of small peppers, 5 oranges, maybe 8 pommes cannelles, and a bag of farine de manicot which is a flour made from a root plant of some sort, and 3 red onions. Two FULL, heavy plastic bags full of food and he wouldn’t let me pay him.
As I started climbing the mountain I live on to get to the house, a very kind woman stopped and gave me a ride up the hill. I thanked her at least half a dozen times. Boy, my bags were heavy. Then, I get home to a further adventure. The downstairs, thanks to the insane rain (and the gigantic hill), had entirely flooded. Jobi worked all afternoon to mop it up but my bedroom door was locked and it was like a Christmas surprise you’re not looking forward to. I unlocked the door, turned the latch and stepped into an inch of water. Fortunately, I don’t keep anything on my floor. Jobi, while Kristen and I made/ate our dinner worked away mopping and sweeping. After my absurd house this summer which broke about a million times, it was nice to have a proprietor who does his job and then some.
So that was my fun for the day. Yesterday, as I said, was fun as well. I have a terrifying amount of reading/school work to do and very little motivation to be studious. If all goes as planned, tomorrow is African Dance and then Friday I am going to do body boarding (through the school athletic department) and then baby sit in the evening. If it’s nice Sunday, Florence, Sebastian, the kids and the same crowd (how I got hooked up with babysitting… many of the women take Seb’s exercise classes) are going to a beach on the Atlantic coast and I was invited along.
Not bad, eh?
Monday, October 19, 2009
A weekend well spent
Monday October 19, 2009 10:30 am
Now that is what I call a weekend. Seriously. Srsly.
So, Friday afternoon, I went to the step Aerobics class I take with Sebastien (because I am definitely that cool…) and during the class, all of a sudden the sky darkened and it started dumping. It was like the entire Mississippi river emptied itself on Schœlcher for about 20 minutes.
Side note: one of the cats just caught a bird outside the sliding glass door and sauntered past with it, feathers ruffled, in her mouth. The cats here are hilarious. I spend soooo much time in the morning just watching the kittens play. Sadly, they’re getting rid of them and all we’ll be left with are two puppies barking at midnight and 5 in the morning, biting my ankles as I stumble outside in the morning. That is, until they get the leash/chain to attach them to a tree in the side yard where their motion will be left… potentially for the rest of their lives…
Back to my glorious weekend: Gilbert picked me up and, along with 3 English assistants (who teach a few days a week at the not-university schools (primary and secondary? I’ve started forgetting how to articulate some things in English… gah!) and we drove, through the on and off rain to the southern part of the island (Marin) to check out a Catamaran for the Créole World Music Festival in Dominica we’ve been talking about going to for over a month, now. After a visit to an office (where I struggled to listen to Gilbert and the woman discuss the situation while the 3 English assistants bavarded (bavarder= to chat/talk and sort of just blah blah blah) loudly in English which I found super rude and obnoxious) and a little walk on the pier, I was beyond hungry and Gilbert offered to take us out so we checked out a nice little restaurant near the boardwalk where we ordered a bunch of food. We each got a Créole sangria (Créole because of the rum) and split for the not vegetarians: foie gras raviolis (grosssssss) and Haitian fish (which I tried and felt ambivalent about, like most fish) and for everyone: roasted red pepper/chevre salad and an amazing vegetarian pizza with mushrooms and artichoke hearts and onion and I don’t remember what else. It was delicious. Then we split a couple of desert and I got a coffee. When I got back, I went out on an awkward dinner with Kristen and her friend (it totally would have been way more awkward for her without me… the things you do for friends…) and got home super exhausted. However, I was feeling stressed and anxious but after a much necessary really long late night phone call with a close friend, I decided that this weekend I needed to do absolutely nothing. And I did.
No alarms all weekend, no stressing about things, relaxation and self-allowed freedom to bum around. To start off, I slept in. I haven’t slept in since who knows when and, hilariously, I woke up at 8:45 of my own account. Saturday morning/day involved my usual breakfast and coffee on the balcony, watching distant boats drift across the Caribbean stretching into the infinite horizon, watching kittens fight and play and snuggle and all the cute things kittens do, feeding my favorite kitten my cereal (which I do every morning because it is the smallest and ugliest) and writing an obscenely long letter… which took all day to write. I also received the greatest birthday package OF MY LIFE with organic almond butter and peanut butter and my favorite cereals and my beautiful green birks and Red Rose tea, the smell of which will always mean home. So, I enjoyed an amazing peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwich and in the evening, Kristen and I ran laundry and I watched a silly movie with Youma and Jobi and just enjoyed myself and just sort of did things for the sake of doing them. It was absolutely necessary and I feel 100 million percent better after just relaxing my mind and my body and being okay with doing nothing… call it assimilation, if you want. Martiniquais love doing nothing. Let’s hope this doesn’t kill me when I get back to WU. Shoot.
ALSO ON SATURDAY: a carpenter/builder was downstairs ALL DAY and the kitchen is almost ready! We have a working convection oven (anyone know anything about them? I have NO idea how they work) and cupboards and a sink with running water and hopefully the stovetop will have gas hooked up today and we have a beautiful wooden peninsula and a wooden counter (aka gigantic cutting board?).
!!!!!!!!!!!
Sunday was a glorious continuation of Saturday. Again, no alarm but after nearly 2 months of waking up around 6 (and definitely at least before 8), I was up at 6:45. Strange business. Around 10, Florence picked me up and we headed back to their house where I got my other package from Mme Mitrail- I finally have a book for a class and my dictionary! We packed up the car and a cooler and drove to the southern coast, near Marin, Cap Macré to a super beautiful beach where we met up with 3 other families with kids around the same age as Paul and Lucas and everyone in the group was from the Metropole (France).The water was cooler than up here and the waves vicious and ferocious. They repeatedly tried to kill me but I resisted and usually just ended up with sand in my suit. I played with the kids and we all had lunch together. I had a gin and tonic and Florence made a rice salad with tomato, corn, carrot and tuna (“there’s no meat in it!”), and everyone shared. I brought grapes and guavas and was also smart enough to bring my Leatherman (thanks dad!) which turned out to be the only knife anyone brought. There was lots of cake, too. I did some reading for school on the beach, took lots of pictures and walked the length of the beach with all the ladies.
I even arranged some baby sitting deals, starting this Friday! All in days work. When I got home, I ate dinner, hung out with Kristen and did some more studying. I successfully did not get sunburned, but a day in the sun is always exhausting and I did not wake up to my alarm at all this morning. Oh well. Another relaxing morning is nothing to complain about. I have a lot of studying to do this evening but feel alright about it. I think tomorrow I am going to present in my Masters course on Iconography and Myth in the Art and Literature of the Anglophone Caribbean (seeing as we only have 2 courses left). Hopefully the kitchen is ready when I get back tonight.
It’ll be interesting to see whether my professor shows up for class today (seeing as on Friday she decided not to have class after sitting in front of us for 10 or 15 minutes on her laptop while we waited) and I sort of hope she doesn’t. It will give me more time to study and work for my other classes in which the professor is invested in the course, shows up every time and comes prepared with a written out lecture plan, a firm idea in their head of what we’re going to do and the book. If I’m expected to have the book with me, you should too, Mme Maignan. Oh well.
Now that is what I call a weekend. Seriously. Srsly.
So, Friday afternoon, I went to the step Aerobics class I take with Sebastien (because I am definitely that cool…) and during the class, all of a sudden the sky darkened and it started dumping. It was like the entire Mississippi river emptied itself on Schœlcher for about 20 minutes.
Side note: one of the cats just caught a bird outside the sliding glass door and sauntered past with it, feathers ruffled, in her mouth. The cats here are hilarious. I spend soooo much time in the morning just watching the kittens play. Sadly, they’re getting rid of them and all we’ll be left with are two puppies barking at midnight and 5 in the morning, biting my ankles as I stumble outside in the morning. That is, until they get the leash/chain to attach them to a tree in the side yard where their motion will be left… potentially for the rest of their lives…
Back to my glorious weekend: Gilbert picked me up and, along with 3 English assistants (who teach a few days a week at the not-university schools (primary and secondary? I’ve started forgetting how to articulate some things in English… gah!) and we drove, through the on and off rain to the southern part of the island (Marin) to check out a Catamaran for the Créole World Music Festival in Dominica we’ve been talking about going to for over a month, now. After a visit to an office (where I struggled to listen to Gilbert and the woman discuss the situation while the 3 English assistants bavarded (bavarder= to chat/talk and sort of just blah blah blah) loudly in English which I found super rude and obnoxious) and a little walk on the pier, I was beyond hungry and Gilbert offered to take us out so we checked out a nice little restaurant near the boardwalk where we ordered a bunch of food. We each got a Créole sangria (Créole because of the rum) and split for the not vegetarians: foie gras raviolis (grosssssss) and Haitian fish (which I tried and felt ambivalent about, like most fish) and for everyone: roasted red pepper/chevre salad and an amazing vegetarian pizza with mushrooms and artichoke hearts and onion and I don’t remember what else. It was delicious. Then we split a couple of desert and I got a coffee. When I got back, I went out on an awkward dinner with Kristen and her friend (it totally would have been way more awkward for her without me… the things you do for friends…) and got home super exhausted. However, I was feeling stressed and anxious but after a much necessary really long late night phone call with a close friend, I decided that this weekend I needed to do absolutely nothing. And I did.
No alarms all weekend, no stressing about things, relaxation and self-allowed freedom to bum around. To start off, I slept in. I haven’t slept in since who knows when and, hilariously, I woke up at 8:45 of my own account. Saturday morning/day involved my usual breakfast and coffee on the balcony, watching distant boats drift across the Caribbean stretching into the infinite horizon, watching kittens fight and play and snuggle and all the cute things kittens do, feeding my favorite kitten my cereal (which I do every morning because it is the smallest and ugliest) and writing an obscenely long letter… which took all day to write. I also received the greatest birthday package OF MY LIFE with organic almond butter and peanut butter and my favorite cereals and my beautiful green birks and Red Rose tea, the smell of which will always mean home. So, I enjoyed an amazing peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwich and in the evening, Kristen and I ran laundry and I watched a silly movie with Youma and Jobi and just enjoyed myself and just sort of did things for the sake of doing them. It was absolutely necessary and I feel 100 million percent better after just relaxing my mind and my body and being okay with doing nothing… call it assimilation, if you want. Martiniquais love doing nothing. Let’s hope this doesn’t kill me when I get back to WU. Shoot.
ALSO ON SATURDAY: a carpenter/builder was downstairs ALL DAY and the kitchen is almost ready! We have a working convection oven (anyone know anything about them? I have NO idea how they work) and cupboards and a sink with running water and hopefully the stovetop will have gas hooked up today and we have a beautiful wooden peninsula and a wooden counter (aka gigantic cutting board?).
!!!!!!!!!!!
Sunday was a glorious continuation of Saturday. Again, no alarm but after nearly 2 months of waking up around 6 (and definitely at least before 8), I was up at 6:45. Strange business. Around 10, Florence picked me up and we headed back to their house where I got my other package from Mme Mitrail- I finally have a book for a class and my dictionary! We packed up the car and a cooler and drove to the southern coast, near Marin, Cap Macré to a super beautiful beach where we met up with 3 other families with kids around the same age as Paul and Lucas and everyone in the group was from the Metropole (France).The water was cooler than up here and the waves vicious and ferocious. They repeatedly tried to kill me but I resisted and usually just ended up with sand in my suit. I played with the kids and we all had lunch together. I had a gin and tonic and Florence made a rice salad with tomato, corn, carrot and tuna (“there’s no meat in it!”), and everyone shared. I brought grapes and guavas and was also smart enough to bring my Leatherman (thanks dad!) which turned out to be the only knife anyone brought. There was lots of cake, too. I did some reading for school on the beach, took lots of pictures and walked the length of the beach with all the ladies.
I even arranged some baby sitting deals, starting this Friday! All in days work. When I got home, I ate dinner, hung out with Kristen and did some more studying. I successfully did not get sunburned, but a day in the sun is always exhausting and I did not wake up to my alarm at all this morning. Oh well. Another relaxing morning is nothing to complain about. I have a lot of studying to do this evening but feel alright about it. I think tomorrow I am going to present in my Masters course on Iconography and Myth in the Art and Literature of the Anglophone Caribbean (seeing as we only have 2 courses left). Hopefully the kitchen is ready when I get back tonight.
It’ll be interesting to see whether my professor shows up for class today (seeing as on Friday she decided not to have class after sitting in front of us for 10 or 15 minutes on her laptop while we waited) and I sort of hope she doesn’t. It will give me more time to study and work for my other classes in which the professor is invested in the course, shows up every time and comes prepared with a written out lecture plan, a firm idea in their head of what we’re going to do and the book. If I’m expected to have the book with me, you should too, Mme Maignan. Oh well.
Friday, October 16, 2009
15 October 2009 21:10
The average day in the life of person in Martinique, as I have come to understand, involves the minimal amount of work. As someone who was already good at procrastinating, the general sort of work ethic here is doing some sweet damage to my ability to concentrate. All I really want to do is sit around and read my book. I don’t have much desire to write a (what I consider to be) cheesy 5 paragraph essay on the Habitation/Plantation as shown in L’esclave vieil homme et le molosse par Patrick Chamoiseau. Or in English, the old man slave and the large dog. I don’t know if we have a word in English for a big dog… I like the name better in French.
The French style of writing is tedious. Maybe I’m too closed minded but I learned how to write a 5 paragraph essay in the tenth grade as a model and have become accustomed to writing 3-12 page papers with freedom in form. Here, writing dissertations or commentaires is a strict, scientific form from which I cannot stray. Very un-American, I say. I’m about ready to boycott. If I can’t have freedom in my essay writing, I want freedom in my fries. And to drink, Peru. But, it’s interesting to learn about a different system and more interesting to apply the idea of how students are taught to write to how students are taught to live and be. Martinique is at once so laid back, un-organized, lackadaisical and on its own schedule. Most professors show up late and sometimes not at all. Yet, you are expected to always be there, prepared. You are expected to be patient even though no one is patient with you.
It’s nearly impossible to finish a sentence here- someone is always there to interrupt and finish it for you even though they have no idea what you are actually talking about. It’s very annoying.
Culture shows itself in many ways, its many faces. In terms of saying hello and having a specifically polite form of you (vous), the French are certainly more polite than Americans. Yet, it’s more of a cold, distant sort of politeness. I feel like as Americans, part of our informality lays in politeness. Things like saying “bless you” don’t happen here. Merci is said ambivalently and bonjour/bonsoir automatically without any feeling. Employees at stores don’t want to help you and certainly don’t offer to. At a shoe store, I felt badly for asking if they had my size because the employee seemed so impatient about it. I’ve been told a number of times, the Martiniquais don’t like to work. I guess it’s just that. But there are definitely people who smile back at me without suspicion or coldness, and sometimes even without devouring me with their eyes! That one’s always exciting. My marchand who always gives me lots of free fruits and veggies is legitimately friendly and knows everyone in the neighborhood. He’s always happy when I stop by to say hi. He pulls up a chair and we sit among the tables of oranges and tomatoes and cucumbers and avocados (so many avocados) and we talk about Obama and healthcare reform and the good old days and he asks me at least 4 times if I’m doing well and I talk about the US and he talks about his daughter and wife and Martinique. And then I walk away with a fat bag of food. Not a bad deal. Plus, he has hair growing out of his ears which is at once gross and hilarious.
Apparently strikes continue which means that packages and letters aren’t being delivered. I wonder, sometimes, if people strike because there is something legitimately wrong or if its because they just don’t want to work. Down here, mostly. I just want my stinking packages. Geez.
Today, for the first time, I was sitting in class and I legitimately didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want to be here at all. This hasn’t happened before and it was a strange feeling which took me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting the sentiment, for sure. It is most certainly not a waste of time but sometimes it feels like it and every once in a while it feels like a big waste of money… But money isn’t everything. It’s just expensive. But, the idea was mostly lifted after my head when a friend from Willamette asked me what exciting things I had done here. Emily also asked me for an island adventure story. What to come up with?
-Hiking Mt. Pelée
-Scuba diving
-some of my classes are really awesome and interesting and I actually enjoy going to them
-African/Traditional dance. Thank you, France, for having a good public works program. I paid 45 Euro for a years inscription to take traditional dance. We go twice a week but could go more. Today the teacher was in a terrible mood and was beating us up. African Dance is extremely physically strenuous and for a class of beginners, she was demanding way too much.
-The other day I fell over while walking. I have no idea how it happened but I was walking with Florence’s son, Lucas, who is 8, and all of a sudden I was on the ground. While hiking Pelée I fell multiple times, too. Super clumsy. Some of my friends in the English program refer to me as the little girl from Little House on the Prairie who apparently falls over in the opening credits? I know nothing about this, but the idea strikes me as hilarious. The other day I fell while walking up the stairs.
Some of the highlights of my daily life include getting letters from my friends, not having to wait half an hour for the bus, days that aren’t a million degrees and I can walk home without sweat dripping down my back, watching kittens play on the balcony as I eat breakfast and hummingbirds feed from flowers (I see one every morning, almost!), eating delicious food, showering (seriously. It’s soooooooo hot here), greenness and colorful beautiful flowers, drinking coffee, and killing mosquitoes.
Yeah, life is pretty alright. Could be better, could be worse but it is what it is.
October 16, 2009
Correction to previous sentiments: I am such a negative nancy. Life is good. seriously. Dur, but good. Dur meaning hard/difficult (at times).
The average day in the life of person in Martinique, as I have come to understand, involves the minimal amount of work. As someone who was already good at procrastinating, the general sort of work ethic here is doing some sweet damage to my ability to concentrate. All I really want to do is sit around and read my book. I don’t have much desire to write a (what I consider to be) cheesy 5 paragraph essay on the Habitation/Plantation as shown in L’esclave vieil homme et le molosse par Patrick Chamoiseau. Or in English, the old man slave and the large dog. I don’t know if we have a word in English for a big dog… I like the name better in French.
The French style of writing is tedious. Maybe I’m too closed minded but I learned how to write a 5 paragraph essay in the tenth grade as a model and have become accustomed to writing 3-12 page papers with freedom in form. Here, writing dissertations or commentaires is a strict, scientific form from which I cannot stray. Very un-American, I say. I’m about ready to boycott. If I can’t have freedom in my essay writing, I want freedom in my fries. And to drink, Peru. But, it’s interesting to learn about a different system and more interesting to apply the idea of how students are taught to write to how students are taught to live and be. Martinique is at once so laid back, un-organized, lackadaisical and on its own schedule. Most professors show up late and sometimes not at all. Yet, you are expected to always be there, prepared. You are expected to be patient even though no one is patient with you.
It’s nearly impossible to finish a sentence here- someone is always there to interrupt and finish it for you even though they have no idea what you are actually talking about. It’s very annoying.
Culture shows itself in many ways, its many faces. In terms of saying hello and having a specifically polite form of you (vous), the French are certainly more polite than Americans. Yet, it’s more of a cold, distant sort of politeness. I feel like as Americans, part of our informality lays in politeness. Things like saying “bless you” don’t happen here. Merci is said ambivalently and bonjour/bonsoir automatically without any feeling. Employees at stores don’t want to help you and certainly don’t offer to. At a shoe store, I felt badly for asking if they had my size because the employee seemed so impatient about it. I’ve been told a number of times, the Martiniquais don’t like to work. I guess it’s just that. But there are definitely people who smile back at me without suspicion or coldness, and sometimes even without devouring me with their eyes! That one’s always exciting. My marchand who always gives me lots of free fruits and veggies is legitimately friendly and knows everyone in the neighborhood. He’s always happy when I stop by to say hi. He pulls up a chair and we sit among the tables of oranges and tomatoes and cucumbers and avocados (so many avocados) and we talk about Obama and healthcare reform and the good old days and he asks me at least 4 times if I’m doing well and I talk about the US and he talks about his daughter and wife and Martinique. And then I walk away with a fat bag of food. Not a bad deal. Plus, he has hair growing out of his ears which is at once gross and hilarious.
Apparently strikes continue which means that packages and letters aren’t being delivered. I wonder, sometimes, if people strike because there is something legitimately wrong or if its because they just don’t want to work. Down here, mostly. I just want my stinking packages. Geez.
Today, for the first time, I was sitting in class and I legitimately didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want to be here at all. This hasn’t happened before and it was a strange feeling which took me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting the sentiment, for sure. It is most certainly not a waste of time but sometimes it feels like it and every once in a while it feels like a big waste of money… But money isn’t everything. It’s just expensive. But, the idea was mostly lifted after my head when a friend from Willamette asked me what exciting things I had done here. Emily also asked me for an island adventure story. What to come up with?
-Hiking Mt. Pelée
-Scuba diving
-some of my classes are really awesome and interesting and I actually enjoy going to them
-African/Traditional dance. Thank you, France, for having a good public works program. I paid 45 Euro for a years inscription to take traditional dance. We go twice a week but could go more. Today the teacher was in a terrible mood and was beating us up. African Dance is extremely physically strenuous and for a class of beginners, she was demanding way too much.
-The other day I fell over while walking. I have no idea how it happened but I was walking with Florence’s son, Lucas, who is 8, and all of a sudden I was on the ground. While hiking Pelée I fell multiple times, too. Super clumsy. Some of my friends in the English program refer to me as the little girl from Little House on the Prairie who apparently falls over in the opening credits? I know nothing about this, but the idea strikes me as hilarious. The other day I fell while walking up the stairs.
Some of the highlights of my daily life include getting letters from my friends, not having to wait half an hour for the bus, days that aren’t a million degrees and I can walk home without sweat dripping down my back, watching kittens play on the balcony as I eat breakfast and hummingbirds feed from flowers (I see one every morning, almost!), eating delicious food, showering (seriously. It’s soooooooo hot here), greenness and colorful beautiful flowers, drinking coffee, and killing mosquitoes.
Yeah, life is pretty alright. Could be better, could be worse but it is what it is.
October 16, 2009
Correction to previous sentiments: I am such a negative nancy. Life is good. seriously. Dur, but good. Dur meaning hard/difficult (at times).
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Happy Birthday! Today has nothing to do with you!
Sunday 11 October 2009 9:45 pm
Well, I told myself I’d be better at writing so here’s a try. I’m absolutely exhausted right now in a great way and a not so great way. Kristen is upstairs having a talk with Youma about some of the problems we’ve run into this weekend (many of which circulate around our “familial” sort of situation). Some things are going a lot better: for example, we are allowed to use the laundry machine on our own with tepid water, the right amount of soap and no fabric softener (for those of us (me) with sensitive skin). That’s nice. Plus, the kitchen is as close to clean as it gets right now which is always enjoyable. On to the weekend:
Saturday morning Kristen and I did our “courses” (grocery shopping) at the market and then grocery store. We also hit up a pharmacy/natural goods shop where I spent an obscene amount of money on cashews (12 Euros for 500 g of organic raw cashews isn’t too much, right?), bought lozenges for my throat and also some sort of talcum powder for my sweet heat rash. Youma checked it out and assessed it as “les bourbouilles,” something infants have when it’s too hot out. Baby skin, geez. We left at around 8:30 and got home a little after 11:30 to Youma and Jobi telling us “change of plans, we’re already an hour late.” For what? Well, a friend called and invited them over to go to Fond St Dennis and a rivière. The “birthday surprise” had been going to the south for a picnic on the beach. Going to a river? Sounds super great… until Martinique sneaks up, punches you in the face and says “bienvenue!”
One of the problems was the suddenness of the whole situation. We got home hungry, hot and tired to being rushed, Youma and Jobi in a hurry- which we thought was impossible- off to who knows where to do who knows what with who knows who. An hour away in the “compagne” (rural farm lands), the road to Fond St Dennis almost killed me. Drivers in Martinique drive very fast and take curves less than sweetly slamming on the brakes and then maximizing acceleration for the 100m of straightaway. So, we get to some stranger’s house, feel generally uncomfortable and the super fantastic ‘repas’ (meal) we were promised is no where to be found. Oh, but there is rice and fish soup. So, I tasted a little more fish. Still ambivalent about it. At this point, Kristen is freaking out because we have no stinking idea what is going on, where we are and when we can be comfortable again. To make it all worse, Jobi’s friend (Jean-Luc), his family, Jobi and Youma are all talking in Creole so Kristen and I can’t even participate in the conversation. We’re both aggravated, I’m sick to my stomach and all we can think about is all the studying we should be doing. And all I can think about it how this is my birthday surprise, this is the fun little celebration we had planned. Call me selfish and self centered, I won’t disagree, but it was really effing upsetting.
I thought Americans are bad about only thinking of themselves, but Martiniquais are worse, but sometimes contradictorily. You’re supposed to chill out and go with the flow if you have to wait for something (such as a kitchen, screens in the windows, a washing machine, a finalized class schedule, and other such things you’re promised weeks ago) but if someone else is waiting (or if you might potentially be late for a movie) it’s rush rush rush freakout time.
So, a few hours later, we leave the house to go to the river. We being Jobi, Jean-Luc, Kristen, Youma, Jean-Luc’s 34 month old and I. If you do the math, you will discover that is 6 people in a 5 person car. Fortunately, no one in Martinique wears seat belts, not even children apparently. Kristen (being like 5 feet tall) in seated in the middle back seat and can’t find the seat belt thing. She’s trying to dig down and saying we need to push the seat forward to find it and everyone is laughing cheerfully telling her it’s not a big deal, just relax, she doesn’t need it. So for the drive to the river (on crazy country/mountain roads) I was the only one wearing a seat belt. Did I mention the 2 year old?
But of course, on the way, we have to stop so Jean-Luc can introduce Jobi (and Jobi only) to his entire extended family- also known as the entire town. We only stopped at one house but that’s thanks to Jobi telling everyone “we’ll stop on the way back.” At this one house, however, the 4 ladies in the back were left in the car, where we were expected to stay. Youma told us it’s impolite to exit the (very hot) car because it will seem like we’re impatient. So we open the doors, but it’s still hot and did I mention the obnoxious child crawling all over us? Usually I like children (for example, my niece), but the heat/lack of seatbelt/lack of knowledge about what was going on/lack of personal space resulted in complete disinterest bordering on extreme dislike of having a child clinging to me. When we eventually got to the river, it was better. There’s a super jovial, happy, laughing old woman with not very many teeth and who I could hardly understand who lives right next to it and she let us park the car in her driveway. She was in her late 80’s but lives alone and just laughs and smiles all the time. The water was cool and refreshing (chilly for down here) and not very deep but I was happy to be in fresh water and other than the child who wanted me to hold her all the time, I was very happy. Kristen went for a run and was able to chill out. I left the group swimming, changed at the car and the jovial woman told me she had something to show me. It was a book with pictures and a brief description of all the towns in Martinique. We had some sort of a conversation which was a lot of her talking and me smiling and saying “oui?” and her saying “mais, oui” as if whatever she was telling me was evident. Again, understood very little but she was sweet and made me smile. While I waited to read, I read awhile. Youma called me lazy for reading a book in English and the kid kept trying to take my book from me. We only spent maybe an hour at the river and afterwards, we got to stop somewhere else for Jobi and Jean-Luc to say hi to someone else while we waited in the car. At this point, 2 year old is tired, sitting/standing on the floor next to me with a wet bathing suit and getting crumbs on my leg. When I removed her hand from my leg and brushed the crumbs away, Youma told me “she’s just a child” and basically to give her a break. If she’s just a child, why isn’t she wearing a seat belt? I didn’t say anything, just swallowed it (like so much discontent here) but I’m still wondering the same question.
We eventually left and got home, seven hours after we left the house, and I basically just made a rockin’ spicy stir fry and Kristen and I de-fragged and voiced our frustration to each other. We also ran laundry, made lunches and packed bags in preparation for today.
Today, Sunday, in opposition to yesterday, was pretty awesome. Kristen, two Germans Hanna and Philippe and I hiked Mt Pelée! When we got to the parking area to meet, it was cold and brisk and windy and super foggy. I was beyond happy to be cold and wore my underarmor again! Hiking was also amazing. The path started off with stairs built into the ground but eventually turned into rock and regular path. There were quite a few people in the group but not too many. It was “guided” but we were mostly left alone to hike at our own rate. Other than some mysterious knee pain ( I have a sneaking suspicion it’s left over from a nice fall I took at the farm Nate works out in August when I was classy and tripped over myself running up the two steps into the kitchen), I felt AWESOME and destroyed the uphill which involved a lot of scrambling (rock climbing term meaning running up rocks and using a lot of hands but not actually needing to rock climb or boulder) and there was plenty of flat. I feel no fewer than 3 times (because I’m clumsy) but only one of them had any consequence- a little scraped knee, no big. Other than that, a sun burnt face, and a sore knee, 7 ½ kilometers left no damage. I took tons of pictures, many of which came out well, and thoroughly enjoyed myself. We didn’t hike to the highest summit (Le Chinois) which is 1395 meters but stopped at the next highest, which was formed by the eruption of 1902. It’s weird to think I was standing on a part of a mountain which is just over 100 years old. It was cold, very very foggy and a fierce Mt. Washington style wind was blowing but I couldn’t do much other than smile.
Other than a bit of an issue getting home (Youma and Jobi weren’t home so we couldn’t get to the kitchen upstairs), it was a very successful day. I did some studying (not enough), ate a bunch of food, hiked a mountain, took a shower, did some laundry, AND Youma promised us we’ll have a kitchen by the end of the week. We can go on hoping. Hiking, being cold and hiking Pelée (finally!) was enough of a fantastic day that I can try to let go of my shitty birthday surprise… almost. I feel very hurt. Cry me a river, sure, but I was really looking forward to something fun, getting out a little bit and feeling special for a little while, instead of a face on the bus, an object to be enjoyed or a stranger to be weary of. Yes, I did just end that sentence with a preposition.
But, tomorrow commences a new week of courses, lots of studying to catch up on, African Danse, getting better at French (I’m pretty damn good at this point), continuing to try to understand and- more important at times- accept and appreciate a foreign culture, mosquito bites, tropical fruit, emotional roller coasters and sweating profusely. All in a day’s work. Plus, tomorrow, we’re (planning) to get wifi at the house! This is especially important because my laptop battery decided to die. So much for cordless, eh?
Love, Bethany
(Or as Gilberte has decided to call me, much to my irritation, MacKenzie. Youma prefers Kenzie. Yes, it’s a pretty name and easier to say than Bethany (there is no “th” sound in French) but it’s also not my name. I am Bethany. Or Bessany, Beffany, Betany, I guess. I’ll even settle for an occasional Bess. But never Beth, please)
Well, I told myself I’d be better at writing so here’s a try. I’m absolutely exhausted right now in a great way and a not so great way. Kristen is upstairs having a talk with Youma about some of the problems we’ve run into this weekend (many of which circulate around our “familial” sort of situation). Some things are going a lot better: for example, we are allowed to use the laundry machine on our own with tepid water, the right amount of soap and no fabric softener (for those of us (me) with sensitive skin). That’s nice. Plus, the kitchen is as close to clean as it gets right now which is always enjoyable. On to the weekend:
Saturday morning Kristen and I did our “courses” (grocery shopping) at the market and then grocery store. We also hit up a pharmacy/natural goods shop where I spent an obscene amount of money on cashews (12 Euros for 500 g of organic raw cashews isn’t too much, right?), bought lozenges for my throat and also some sort of talcum powder for my sweet heat rash. Youma checked it out and assessed it as “les bourbouilles,” something infants have when it’s too hot out. Baby skin, geez. We left at around 8:30 and got home a little after 11:30 to Youma and Jobi telling us “change of plans, we’re already an hour late.” For what? Well, a friend called and invited them over to go to Fond St Dennis and a rivière. The “birthday surprise” had been going to the south for a picnic on the beach. Going to a river? Sounds super great… until Martinique sneaks up, punches you in the face and says “bienvenue!”
One of the problems was the suddenness of the whole situation. We got home hungry, hot and tired to being rushed, Youma and Jobi in a hurry- which we thought was impossible- off to who knows where to do who knows what with who knows who. An hour away in the “compagne” (rural farm lands), the road to Fond St Dennis almost killed me. Drivers in Martinique drive very fast and take curves less than sweetly slamming on the brakes and then maximizing acceleration for the 100m of straightaway. So, we get to some stranger’s house, feel generally uncomfortable and the super fantastic ‘repas’ (meal) we were promised is no where to be found. Oh, but there is rice and fish soup. So, I tasted a little more fish. Still ambivalent about it. At this point, Kristen is freaking out because we have no stinking idea what is going on, where we are and when we can be comfortable again. To make it all worse, Jobi’s friend (Jean-Luc), his family, Jobi and Youma are all talking in Creole so Kristen and I can’t even participate in the conversation. We’re both aggravated, I’m sick to my stomach and all we can think about is all the studying we should be doing. And all I can think about it how this is my birthday surprise, this is the fun little celebration we had planned. Call me selfish and self centered, I won’t disagree, but it was really effing upsetting.
I thought Americans are bad about only thinking of themselves, but Martiniquais are worse, but sometimes contradictorily. You’re supposed to chill out and go with the flow if you have to wait for something (such as a kitchen, screens in the windows, a washing machine, a finalized class schedule, and other such things you’re promised weeks ago) but if someone else is waiting (or if you might potentially be late for a movie) it’s rush rush rush freakout time.
So, a few hours later, we leave the house to go to the river. We being Jobi, Jean-Luc, Kristen, Youma, Jean-Luc’s 34 month old and I. If you do the math, you will discover that is 6 people in a 5 person car. Fortunately, no one in Martinique wears seat belts, not even children apparently. Kristen (being like 5 feet tall) in seated in the middle back seat and can’t find the seat belt thing. She’s trying to dig down and saying we need to push the seat forward to find it and everyone is laughing cheerfully telling her it’s not a big deal, just relax, she doesn’t need it. So for the drive to the river (on crazy country/mountain roads) I was the only one wearing a seat belt. Did I mention the 2 year old?
But of course, on the way, we have to stop so Jean-Luc can introduce Jobi (and Jobi only) to his entire extended family- also known as the entire town. We only stopped at one house but that’s thanks to Jobi telling everyone “we’ll stop on the way back.” At this one house, however, the 4 ladies in the back were left in the car, where we were expected to stay. Youma told us it’s impolite to exit the (very hot) car because it will seem like we’re impatient. So we open the doors, but it’s still hot and did I mention the obnoxious child crawling all over us? Usually I like children (for example, my niece), but the heat/lack of seatbelt/lack of knowledge about what was going on/lack of personal space resulted in complete disinterest bordering on extreme dislike of having a child clinging to me. When we eventually got to the river, it was better. There’s a super jovial, happy, laughing old woman with not very many teeth and who I could hardly understand who lives right next to it and she let us park the car in her driveway. She was in her late 80’s but lives alone and just laughs and smiles all the time. The water was cool and refreshing (chilly for down here) and not very deep but I was happy to be in fresh water and other than the child who wanted me to hold her all the time, I was very happy. Kristen went for a run and was able to chill out. I left the group swimming, changed at the car and the jovial woman told me she had something to show me. It was a book with pictures and a brief description of all the towns in Martinique. We had some sort of a conversation which was a lot of her talking and me smiling and saying “oui?” and her saying “mais, oui” as if whatever she was telling me was evident. Again, understood very little but she was sweet and made me smile. While I waited to read, I read awhile. Youma called me lazy for reading a book in English and the kid kept trying to take my book from me. We only spent maybe an hour at the river and afterwards, we got to stop somewhere else for Jobi and Jean-Luc to say hi to someone else while we waited in the car. At this point, 2 year old is tired, sitting/standing on the floor next to me with a wet bathing suit and getting crumbs on my leg. When I removed her hand from my leg and brushed the crumbs away, Youma told me “she’s just a child” and basically to give her a break. If she’s just a child, why isn’t she wearing a seat belt? I didn’t say anything, just swallowed it (like so much discontent here) but I’m still wondering the same question.
We eventually left and got home, seven hours after we left the house, and I basically just made a rockin’ spicy stir fry and Kristen and I de-fragged and voiced our frustration to each other. We also ran laundry, made lunches and packed bags in preparation for today.
Today, Sunday, in opposition to yesterday, was pretty awesome. Kristen, two Germans Hanna and Philippe and I hiked Mt Pelée! When we got to the parking area to meet, it was cold and brisk and windy and super foggy. I was beyond happy to be cold and wore my underarmor again! Hiking was also amazing. The path started off with stairs built into the ground but eventually turned into rock and regular path. There were quite a few people in the group but not too many. It was “guided” but we were mostly left alone to hike at our own rate. Other than some mysterious knee pain ( I have a sneaking suspicion it’s left over from a nice fall I took at the farm Nate works out in August when I was classy and tripped over myself running up the two steps into the kitchen), I felt AWESOME and destroyed the uphill which involved a lot of scrambling (rock climbing term meaning running up rocks and using a lot of hands but not actually needing to rock climb or boulder) and there was plenty of flat. I feel no fewer than 3 times (because I’m clumsy) but only one of them had any consequence- a little scraped knee, no big. Other than that, a sun burnt face, and a sore knee, 7 ½ kilometers left no damage. I took tons of pictures, many of which came out well, and thoroughly enjoyed myself. We didn’t hike to the highest summit (Le Chinois) which is 1395 meters but stopped at the next highest, which was formed by the eruption of 1902. It’s weird to think I was standing on a part of a mountain which is just over 100 years old. It was cold, very very foggy and a fierce Mt. Washington style wind was blowing but I couldn’t do much other than smile.
Other than a bit of an issue getting home (Youma and Jobi weren’t home so we couldn’t get to the kitchen upstairs), it was a very successful day. I did some studying (not enough), ate a bunch of food, hiked a mountain, took a shower, did some laundry, AND Youma promised us we’ll have a kitchen by the end of the week. We can go on hoping. Hiking, being cold and hiking Pelée (finally!) was enough of a fantastic day that I can try to let go of my shitty birthday surprise… almost. I feel very hurt. Cry me a river, sure, but I was really looking forward to something fun, getting out a little bit and feeling special for a little while, instead of a face on the bus, an object to be enjoyed or a stranger to be weary of. Yes, I did just end that sentence with a preposition.
But, tomorrow commences a new week of courses, lots of studying to catch up on, African Danse, getting better at French (I’m pretty damn good at this point), continuing to try to understand and- more important at times- accept and appreciate a foreign culture, mosquito bites, tropical fruit, emotional roller coasters and sweating profusely. All in a day’s work. Plus, tomorrow, we’re (planning) to get wifi at the house! This is especially important because my laptop battery decided to die. So much for cordless, eh?
Love, Bethany
(Or as Gilberte has decided to call me, much to my irritation, MacKenzie. Youma prefers Kenzie. Yes, it’s a pretty name and easier to say than Bethany (there is no “th” sound in French) but it’s also not my name. I am Bethany. Or Bessany, Beffany, Betany, I guess. I’ll even settle for an occasional Bess. But never Beth, please)
Friday, October 9, 2009
not weird; different
First of all, thanks for the birthday wishes. They were (are) much appreciated.
October 6 2009, 22:30
Well, I haven’t been so good about that whole writing thing. But it’s not because nothing has been happening. If I were to think up an excuse, I would probably say it’s because I’ve been feeling a little sick this past week. I took a few very necessary mid-afternoon naps this week and have been ODing on vitamin C in hopes that I can battle whatever it is that is causing my throat to feel swollen when I wake up in the morning. Whatever it is, I’m not pleased.
Tonight, Kristen and I had a much needed de-frag in English. We sat downstairs and just talked out our frustrations and the walls we’re running into navigating through the different cultural system and our own different experiences in the states. Anywhere from the classroom, to homework expectations, making friends and what it is that people do here. As far as we can tell, a lot of students don’t do much. They study and work but don’t go out. For us, that’s weird. Even as studious people, there’s something to going out/ hanging out with friends sometimes and not being cooped up all the time.
We both, separately, had very frustrating days. The African dance class was cancelled (there’s some sort of strike going on, again) and the system continues to be really annoying. One thing we’ve noticed is that Martinique has adopted a lot of the western culture, but it hasn’t retained all the good parts (organization) and has instead lost some of its own creole culture. I have the pleasure of seeing McDonalds and KFC on street corners but it took 3 days of searching to finally find the right place to get the student bus passes. Sometimes it just seems absolutely absurd.
Another thing I personally find really difficult is some of the formality that comes from the [older] French culture. I find that, for example, Florence (who lived downstairs at Mme Mitrail’s house) is very informal, comfortable and conversational with me. She’s laid back and very friendly. Hence, the older French culture. But in situations like the classroom, students are usually very hesitant to answer professor’s questions, are almost intimidated (it seems) and when they do speak, it’s in a very formal way. Coming from a Willamette classroom which is at once more informal and more engaging, this is uncomfortable for me. Students copy what the professors say as if they are dictating. They take “notes” in paragraphs and sentences. Weird. Not weird; different.
9 October 2009
To continue on that thought, for example, Kristen and I use the “vous” (formal) form of you when addressing Youma. It feels funny. We live together, share a kitchen (which might drive Kristen and I insane at some point soon) and interact on a personal level. Yet, we address her formally and will do so until such point as she tells us it’s okay to use the informal “tu-toi.” Returning to the kitchen, however, addresses another minor discomfort. And I say minor because I am beyond happy to be living here with hot water, privacy and a friend. Sharing a kitchen with upstairs is like having a really bad roommate except that you could sit down and talk to a roommate about leaving food out overnight and rarely doing their dishes and the massive amounts of ants crawling all over the counters, floors, into my food and up my arms and legs as a result of the food everywhere. Furthermore, Youma had the brilliant idea to trade 7 kittens for two puppies. Maybe I’m confused but outdoors cats are a lot easier (and cheaper) to take care of then puppies who are going to grow to mid-thigh height. A fact she bragged to us about. The logic of this evades me but the annoyance comes from them living downstairs and outside and constantly trying to come in our door- where they are absolutely not allowed, according to her.
But it’s nice to sit back, reflect and remind myself that this is life. Some of the frustration I’m dealing with is purely Martiniquais culture shock and other parts are just frustration that I’d feel anywhere. But, oh culture shock. I thought it’d be a quick “wow this is different” and then accept it, adjust accordingly and get on with my life. Except that my life is here. And a month and a half in and I’m still sitting back and saying “god, it’s just SO different.” This afternoon, I feel great but it’s after a week or so of being really frustrated and angry at the situation. Not regret at being here, per se, but a general sort of disappointment in myself for being unprepared and shocked and upset. I was also disappointed in Martinique for not being everything I expected and wanted it to be, upset at Martinique for being so frustrating and irritating.
But, a professor I have for English Civilization, while explaining the French system of analyzing articles and writing dissertations, replied to my shocked face (it’s very strict and dry) by reminding me that I’m not just here to learn the language, and that this will help me learn how the French think and it will help us to understand them as people. It’s so easy to forget my goals when everyday is a roller coaster ride of emotions, frustration, irritation, confusion, boredom, pure happiness and contentedness, stress and anxiety about how I am going to get through this. But then again, I knew going into it that it wasn’t going to be easy. I just forgot what that meant.
Classes are going pretty well, though, and causing their fair share of stress. An interesting difference between the system here and back at Willamette is that there is not necessarily more coursework expected outside of the classroom, but that the coursework is purely voluntary. There is very little “homework” given in the sense that a professor will tell you to read a book and that’s it. It’s up to the student to look up more information, read criticism, analyze, etc. In my course on English civilization, which is really just a history/politics course on the US and UK, we learn a bunch of stuff in the 2 hours of lecture but then, as I learned, it’s up to us to actually learn and KNOW the entire UK government system. There’s a bibliography given of recommended books but since books are so hard to get ahold of (especially in English!), there’s no one book assigned. Students are expected to be way more motivated here, but for the most part, aren’t! The professor I mentioned earlier regularly gets aggravated in class because no one seems to want to be there. And she told me that many of them don’t want to. It’s so cheap to go to college, and many students even receive scholarships for living expenses, that students can go for 5 years (it’s a 3 year program down here) and never get anything done. It costs 300-500 Euros a year to go there. When I explain to other students what we pay in the states, their jaws hit the ground. “thousand!?” they ask. Yes, thousand.
My birthday, as well, went pretty well. It was a day here, like any other day, with ups and downs but I decided the day before that I was going to enjoy it and that it was going to be a good day and it was. It started off gloriously, raining, dreary and barely chilly. I went for a run and finally had a use for the underarmor I brought “just in case.” Then I made myself “pain perdu” (“freedom” toast) and enjoyed it with sliced banana and a little bottle of maple syrup I brought “for emergencies.” Given the slightly “chilly” weather (and the bit of sickness I’ve felt coming on), I took the opportunity to wear leggings and a long sleeve shirt: things I miss. I had 4 hours of class which was less than fun but the German exchange students gave me big birthday hugs. After hours of class, I was exhausted, by this time very hot and feeling pretty down and bummed about celebrating my 21st birthday in Martinique. When I got home, Youma said we were going to the movies to celebrate my birthday. It wasn’t a huge deal but it was really nice and turned out fun. We saw the new Quentin Tarantino movie, Inglorious Basterds which was great (but gory) and almost entirely in French (thanks to dubbing). Or it was in English or German with subtitles.
Today is Friday and tomorrow there is some sort of “surprise” planned for me (I think we’re going on a hike?) and then maybe we’ll have a little party at the house? Nothing huge. Sunday, Kristen and I are planning to hike Mt Pelée. She’s extremely motivated and on top of things and found out that this Sunday (and this Sunday only!) we can get a guided hike of Pelée and learn about all the flora and geology for 12 Euros. Totally a snag. So that’s the plan.
I’ve spent the past few days consuming massive amounts of vitamin C, which is extremely easy here thanks to oranges, mandarins, goyaves (guava), melon (cantaloupe) … and orange juice. My lymph nodes were unreasonably swollen but seem better today. I continue to be eaten alive by mosquitoes, but thanks to a mousticaire (mosquito net) surrounding my bed, I’m not devoured in my sleep. Plus, I have a gigantic fan. Living here is way better.
As much as I’m offended by all the jerks- for example the other morning at the bus stop a man who was probably in his mid-40s told me about 5 times in a 3 minute conversation that he lives alone- there are occasionally people who renew my faith in humanity and the people of Martinique. On my birthday, as I got ready to run up the big gigantic hill that leads to the house, an older man, as I passed and said “bonjour” replied with “Bonjour, bon courage!” As I was walking to school one day last week, all of a sudden the sky started dumping water and a woman who lives down the street from me pulled over and gave me a ride to campus. The marchand (fruit and veggie vendor) up the street from Mme Mitrail’s house is always nice. I had to go by Mme Mitrails house for a letter and walked up the block to say hello to him and pick up some fruit. He had me sit down and we talked about Martinique, the history of slavery, healthcare reform in the states and apparently Obama is winning the Nobel Prize for peace? I love how the average Martiniquais knows more about what’s going on in my country than I do. Not having internet access makes it sort of hard to keep in touch with the world… When I went to leave, he told me to close my wallet and tried to let me walk away with a bunch of bananas, some little plums, 2 tomatoes, 5 pomme cannelles and an avocado for free. I bought some sort of pie things for 2 Euros and threw in an extra one for good measure. He’s awesome.
Such is life in Martinique. Being a little sick is definitely a bummer but my French is progressing beautifully and everyday is a learning experience. I’m still waiting for a lot of packages which will probably arrive sometime around December, if I’m lucky…
Thanks for all the love and support. I would have gone completely insane by now if it weren’t for it. All my love in return,
Bethany
October 6 2009, 22:30
Well, I haven’t been so good about that whole writing thing. But it’s not because nothing has been happening. If I were to think up an excuse, I would probably say it’s because I’ve been feeling a little sick this past week. I took a few very necessary mid-afternoon naps this week and have been ODing on vitamin C in hopes that I can battle whatever it is that is causing my throat to feel swollen when I wake up in the morning. Whatever it is, I’m not pleased.
Tonight, Kristen and I had a much needed de-frag in English. We sat downstairs and just talked out our frustrations and the walls we’re running into navigating through the different cultural system and our own different experiences in the states. Anywhere from the classroom, to homework expectations, making friends and what it is that people do here. As far as we can tell, a lot of students don’t do much. They study and work but don’t go out. For us, that’s weird. Even as studious people, there’s something to going out/ hanging out with friends sometimes and not being cooped up all the time.
We both, separately, had very frustrating days. The African dance class was cancelled (there’s some sort of strike going on, again) and the system continues to be really annoying. One thing we’ve noticed is that Martinique has adopted a lot of the western culture, but it hasn’t retained all the good parts (organization) and has instead lost some of its own creole culture. I have the pleasure of seeing McDonalds and KFC on street corners but it took 3 days of searching to finally find the right place to get the student bus passes. Sometimes it just seems absolutely absurd.
Another thing I personally find really difficult is some of the formality that comes from the [older] French culture. I find that, for example, Florence (who lived downstairs at Mme Mitrail’s house) is very informal, comfortable and conversational with me. She’s laid back and very friendly. Hence, the older French culture. But in situations like the classroom, students are usually very hesitant to answer professor’s questions, are almost intimidated (it seems) and when they do speak, it’s in a very formal way. Coming from a Willamette classroom which is at once more informal and more engaging, this is uncomfortable for me. Students copy what the professors say as if they are dictating. They take “notes” in paragraphs and sentences. Weird. Not weird; different.
9 October 2009
To continue on that thought, for example, Kristen and I use the “vous” (formal) form of you when addressing Youma. It feels funny. We live together, share a kitchen (which might drive Kristen and I insane at some point soon) and interact on a personal level. Yet, we address her formally and will do so until such point as she tells us it’s okay to use the informal “tu-toi.” Returning to the kitchen, however, addresses another minor discomfort. And I say minor because I am beyond happy to be living here with hot water, privacy and a friend. Sharing a kitchen with upstairs is like having a really bad roommate except that you could sit down and talk to a roommate about leaving food out overnight and rarely doing their dishes and the massive amounts of ants crawling all over the counters, floors, into my food and up my arms and legs as a result of the food everywhere. Furthermore, Youma had the brilliant idea to trade 7 kittens for two puppies. Maybe I’m confused but outdoors cats are a lot easier (and cheaper) to take care of then puppies who are going to grow to mid-thigh height. A fact she bragged to us about. The logic of this evades me but the annoyance comes from them living downstairs and outside and constantly trying to come in our door- where they are absolutely not allowed, according to her.
But it’s nice to sit back, reflect and remind myself that this is life. Some of the frustration I’m dealing with is purely Martiniquais culture shock and other parts are just frustration that I’d feel anywhere. But, oh culture shock. I thought it’d be a quick “wow this is different” and then accept it, adjust accordingly and get on with my life. Except that my life is here. And a month and a half in and I’m still sitting back and saying “god, it’s just SO different.” This afternoon, I feel great but it’s after a week or so of being really frustrated and angry at the situation. Not regret at being here, per se, but a general sort of disappointment in myself for being unprepared and shocked and upset. I was also disappointed in Martinique for not being everything I expected and wanted it to be, upset at Martinique for being so frustrating and irritating.
But, a professor I have for English Civilization, while explaining the French system of analyzing articles and writing dissertations, replied to my shocked face (it’s very strict and dry) by reminding me that I’m not just here to learn the language, and that this will help me learn how the French think and it will help us to understand them as people. It’s so easy to forget my goals when everyday is a roller coaster ride of emotions, frustration, irritation, confusion, boredom, pure happiness and contentedness, stress and anxiety about how I am going to get through this. But then again, I knew going into it that it wasn’t going to be easy. I just forgot what that meant.
Classes are going pretty well, though, and causing their fair share of stress. An interesting difference between the system here and back at Willamette is that there is not necessarily more coursework expected outside of the classroom, but that the coursework is purely voluntary. There is very little “homework” given in the sense that a professor will tell you to read a book and that’s it. It’s up to the student to look up more information, read criticism, analyze, etc. In my course on English civilization, which is really just a history/politics course on the US and UK, we learn a bunch of stuff in the 2 hours of lecture but then, as I learned, it’s up to us to actually learn and KNOW the entire UK government system. There’s a bibliography given of recommended books but since books are so hard to get ahold of (especially in English!), there’s no one book assigned. Students are expected to be way more motivated here, but for the most part, aren’t! The professor I mentioned earlier regularly gets aggravated in class because no one seems to want to be there. And she told me that many of them don’t want to. It’s so cheap to go to college, and many students even receive scholarships for living expenses, that students can go for 5 years (it’s a 3 year program down here) and never get anything done. It costs 300-500 Euros a year to go there. When I explain to other students what we pay in the states, their jaws hit the ground. “thousand!?” they ask. Yes, thousand.
My birthday, as well, went pretty well. It was a day here, like any other day, with ups and downs but I decided the day before that I was going to enjoy it and that it was going to be a good day and it was. It started off gloriously, raining, dreary and barely chilly. I went for a run and finally had a use for the underarmor I brought “just in case.” Then I made myself “pain perdu” (“freedom” toast) and enjoyed it with sliced banana and a little bottle of maple syrup I brought “for emergencies.” Given the slightly “chilly” weather (and the bit of sickness I’ve felt coming on), I took the opportunity to wear leggings and a long sleeve shirt: things I miss. I had 4 hours of class which was less than fun but the German exchange students gave me big birthday hugs. After hours of class, I was exhausted, by this time very hot and feeling pretty down and bummed about celebrating my 21st birthday in Martinique. When I got home, Youma said we were going to the movies to celebrate my birthday. It wasn’t a huge deal but it was really nice and turned out fun. We saw the new Quentin Tarantino movie, Inglorious Basterds which was great (but gory) and almost entirely in French (thanks to dubbing). Or it was in English or German with subtitles.
Today is Friday and tomorrow there is some sort of “surprise” planned for me (I think we’re going on a hike?) and then maybe we’ll have a little party at the house? Nothing huge. Sunday, Kristen and I are planning to hike Mt Pelée. She’s extremely motivated and on top of things and found out that this Sunday (and this Sunday only!) we can get a guided hike of Pelée and learn about all the flora and geology for 12 Euros. Totally a snag. So that’s the plan.
I’ve spent the past few days consuming massive amounts of vitamin C, which is extremely easy here thanks to oranges, mandarins, goyaves (guava), melon (cantaloupe) … and orange juice. My lymph nodes were unreasonably swollen but seem better today. I continue to be eaten alive by mosquitoes, but thanks to a mousticaire (mosquito net) surrounding my bed, I’m not devoured in my sleep. Plus, I have a gigantic fan. Living here is way better.
As much as I’m offended by all the jerks- for example the other morning at the bus stop a man who was probably in his mid-40s told me about 5 times in a 3 minute conversation that he lives alone- there are occasionally people who renew my faith in humanity and the people of Martinique. On my birthday, as I got ready to run up the big gigantic hill that leads to the house, an older man, as I passed and said “bonjour” replied with “Bonjour, bon courage!” As I was walking to school one day last week, all of a sudden the sky started dumping water and a woman who lives down the street from me pulled over and gave me a ride to campus. The marchand (fruit and veggie vendor) up the street from Mme Mitrail’s house is always nice. I had to go by Mme Mitrails house for a letter and walked up the block to say hello to him and pick up some fruit. He had me sit down and we talked about Martinique, the history of slavery, healthcare reform in the states and apparently Obama is winning the Nobel Prize for peace? I love how the average Martiniquais knows more about what’s going on in my country than I do. Not having internet access makes it sort of hard to keep in touch with the world… When I went to leave, he told me to close my wallet and tried to let me walk away with a bunch of bananas, some little plums, 2 tomatoes, 5 pomme cannelles and an avocado for free. I bought some sort of pie things for 2 Euros and threw in an extra one for good measure. He’s awesome.
Such is life in Martinique. Being a little sick is definitely a bummer but my French is progressing beautifully and everyday is a learning experience. I’m still waiting for a lot of packages which will probably arrive sometime around December, if I’m lucky…
Thanks for all the love and support. I would have gone completely insane by now if it weren’t for it. All my love in return,
Bethany
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