So here is my week in review (complete with tons of pictures):

Teaching is going well. I’m surprised at how far back the students are from where they are supposed to be. So I am only doing lesson plans from week to week, so I can gauge how much they know in comparison to what they should. I don’t think there is any sort of test that I can devise. I’m getting more settled into the job though. Trying to learn French names is a bit difficult, and I am butchering these poor kids’ names. They are really nice about it though, and are helping me along.

The neighborhood around the school is super nice, the houses are really cute.


When I got to the bridge for the train, I saw a truck who didn’t pay attention to the details of clearance. I was laughing out loud.


School is school, there isn’t much I can say about my writing and speaking classes. They are nowhere near as awesome as the History of Literary Paris class.

Nanterre is right outside of the city of Paris, and the campus is supposed to be modeled after American campuses.


So I guess you could say that my weekdays tend to be on the boring, real life-ish side. School, work and babysitting.

This weekend, Sylvana and I decided to go to the Père Lachaise cemetery. It was quite interesting. There are four cemeteries in Paris, and this by far is the most famous. The cemetery was opened in the early 1800’s. In order to attract people to want to be buried there, they moved the remains of Molière and Jean de la Fontaine to the cemetery.


It then became “the place to be (buried)”. 19th century families all wanted to be buried there, and they all tried to outdo each other when it came to their final resting places. One thing that I have noted, everywhere, is the extravagance with which the French do things. Whether it is their palaces or their final resting places, it seems the bigger the better.

We walked around, and saw the gravesites of such famous French people as: Abélard and Héloïse, ,
Jacques-Louis David (he was Napoleon’s painter), who was exiled, and not allowed to return to France, even in death. So only his heart is interred at the cemetery, in his family’s plot. ,
Honoré de Balzac ,
Eugène Delacroix ,
Théodore Géricault ,
Amedeo Modigliani ,
Edith Piaf ,
Marcel Proust ,
Gertrude Stein (who’s residence I had just visited earlier in the week) and Alice B. Tolkas (her partner). They were buried in the same plot, but their names were engraved on different sides of the headstone.
Mademoiselle Rachel ,
Allan Kardec (the founder of the philosophy movement “Spiritism”) ,
Oscar Wilde (who’s grave and monument were gifts from a devoted fan, and where it is tradition for women to wear lipstick and kiss his grave)
and the Rothschild family crypt.

And of course, what trip to the Père Lachaise would be complete without a stop by the grave of Jim Morrison? The grave is barricaded, and there is always a guard by the grave. (It’s funny, not to diminish the goodness of the Doors, but there these other artistic “giants” in the cemetery, yet Jim Morrison’s is the most popular, and cause of problems.)


There were also several monuments built for the soldiers from different countries that lost their lives in the two world wars, and also monuments built for the French citizens that died in the Nazi Concentration camps.

One of the more interesting, but not publicized landmarks was the Mur de Fèdèrès, where fighters of the Commune (who were also responsible for the fire that destroyed the Hôtel de Ville) were captured by the French government, lines up against the wall, and shot.

And then this one just kinda creeped me out. It reminded me of Return of the Living Dead.

Walking around the cemetery was interesting, and also kind of sad. There were a lot of graves that were in ruins, it looked like some had been smashed. And a lot were become ruin status, overrun with grasses and moss. Some crypts were filled with trash. People probably spent a ton of money to secure their eternal spot amongst French giants, and it is in ruins.

More and more I am becoming convinced of my ability to control the weather. It never rains whenever I want to go out. It started sprinkling just a little when we were at the cemetery. I told Sylvana to give it just a minute, it will pass. Lo and behold, it stopped, and five minutes later, the sun was out. Coincidence, or cosmic powers? Time will tell.

And I feel accomplished, I finished Les Misérables. It was a great book, and of course it made me cry at the end. Now I need something new to read. Anybody want to send me something?

Wednesday begins the Toussaint holiday for the little kids. Oh yeah, a week and a half (paid!) vacation from teaching. Unfortunately, the University isn’t so kind. But I am so excited.