France

Everyone enjoys the Mona Lisa, but opposite it is an even more impressive painting

Our final stage of spring break in France culminated in Paris. In order to keep track of all students as we arrived to a new restaurant, monument, or hotel, each chaperone would round up their students and do a count. I decided to take it a step further and create an unique team cheer. Our particular team cheer involved yelling a popular high school French word combined with a silly expression from a French movie, thus the amazing "Hypercool, je t'ai cassé!" It may not seem that exciting until you hear it in person and watch the reaction of the French with looks of bewilderment.

Tom Hanks jumped from this window as a professor not long ago

No visit to Paris is complete without heading up to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Due to time constraints and a scheduled time on a bateau mouche fast approaching, we were faced with a dilemma. As we had reached the first platform and students were at the point to board the escalator for the very top of the tower. With time having already been lost, students had to decide between going to the very top of the Eiffel Tower with me or go back down to ride the bateau mouche up and down the Seine. To my surprise, two-thirds of the students opted to skip the view of Paris at night making everyone behind them line very happy. With those few that remained, we successfully reached the top, but within a mere 15 minutes on top of the site that studied extensively, the entire group was ready to return to the hotel. So down the legs of the tower we ran. I also forced the students to direct us home on the subway. Fortunately, we didn't end up at the Moulin Rouge.

After visiting the wind tunnel known as La Défense a day later, our group did arrive on time for the Musée d'Orsay. Yet true to French daily life, Musée d'Orsay was functioning with half of their staff as they were on strike demanding more time for cheese and wine during their lunch break or the right to bring their chiens to work.

Chateau de Chambourg

The one place that I had never visited during previous visits to Paris, but wanted to stick my head in was a place that contained more dead than living, The Catacombs. Basically, to help prevent further transmission of sickness during the Plague, the French buried their dead hundreds of feet below ground. So myself and 4 other students walked through the long underground tunnels of the Catacombs, but after long walks with our tilted to the side to avoid scraping them, we had yet to see any dead people. So the two male students and I decided to end the monotony. If it had been a New Mexican teacher and students, who knows how they would end the monotony, just ask your local St. Pius student. But the students and I let the two girls continue walking, while we quietly fell way behind, and hid behind a dark corner. Eventually they realized they were alone, so they turned around to come back. And just as they turned the corner, we had the opportunity, really the responsibility, we jumped out and scared them nice and good. They were scared, but not to death, and yelled really loud, but not enough to wake the dead. Soon enough after this, we saw the dead and scores of their femurs and skulls.

On a more serious note, our guide the entire trip was a very knowledgeable, outgoing, and patient young French guide. That is until you put her in a French restaurant with 40 high school students and the crescendo of their dinner voices transforming into "we're-out-of-the-country-without-our-parents" voices. For some reason, Léo couldn't comprehend why they would talk so loud in a restaurant with other people trying to enjoy a peaceful meal of frog legs, American high school-less dinner. I obviously agreed with her that their voices should be at a more respectable volume, but I enjoyed even more her getting all worked up with the entire situation. She would start by peacefully eating at the table with everyone enjoying conversation. Slowly as volume became louder, the agitated look on her face was followed with the swing of her head from side to side glaring at the other tables, until her face finally turned an apple red. At this point her head exploded. Ok, not quite, but it would be exciting. She would stand up and yell, oddly enough adding to the noise level in the restaurant that she was trying to lessen, demanding that everyone be quiet. With looks of horror, they shut up . . . for 2 minutes.

Notre Dame

By the time my feet and backpack reached home after 9 days with high school students in France, it couldn't have come any sooner. Yet, spring break is supposed to be a time to relax and recharging of your batteries. Conversely, I came back feeling more tired that before I left.

Next scheduled stop, study abroad in Argentina with Nadine and Sophie for 5 weeks during the months of June and July.

John

We left the Cote d'Azur minus three people from our original group. Yet, we still remained a small village roaming the streets of France.

As our time in Nice came to an end, the next morning, we jumped on a bus that lead us away from the beaches and sea, and towards the Alps and the home of the 68' Winter Olympics, Grenoble.

Even before our arrival, we made a slight detour to the town of Hauterives and the "Palais du Facteur Cheval." As the story goes, this French postman, Ferdinand Cheval, was walking along the streets of Hauterives one day when he noticed a few smooth pebbles along the road. He decided to pick them up and they gave him a great idea. From that day foward for 34 years, as he would collect pebbles, he would then place and plaster these pebbles in unique designs in what would become his 'ideal palace.' His ideal palace, I must admit, was pretty darn odd, but admirable in his desire to construct his own little palace. At least he didn't have to pay much for materials. We were allotted an hour to roam the palace, but a solid 19 minutes would have been more appropriate.

For our first night in Grenoble, our plan for dinner was to enjoy a typical dish of Grenoble, white wine fondue. From our hotel, the amoeba we called our group began a trek of a dozen blocks through town past store fronts with the gaze of other French teenagers and adults upon us and trains passing us by. As all 41 of us snaked around Grenoble, we finally arrived to the restaurant.

Grenoble as a little wind and rain roll in

Now we should clarify that the actual act of going from Point A to Point B while passing Points C, D, E, F, G, and H that undoubtedly distracts teenagers in a new country who are there for the first time always requires that a certain protocol be followed. As we headed anywhere, our guide and one French teacher would lead the group. A few chaperones would sit in the middle keeping students on task of walking as they talked with their friends. I myself was always the last person in line yelling, "Barbara! Stop! You might want to look to your right as there is a train coming directly at you." "Yes, some people do actually use public transport." So when a student would be staring at the sky, a building, a really unique looking French pigeon, or basically being oblivious to their surroundings, I would gently, but firmly grab their left ear and pull them back to the correct route.

That night of white wine fondue provided a delicious pot of cheese rich with white wine which might have been the reason that the volume in the restaurant steadily reached a crescendo. We followed our night of cheese with a trip up the "Télépherique au Fort de la Bastille" to walk off all of our curds with stunning views of Grenoble sitting below us. La Bastille was the sight of a fortress built in the 19th century to protect the city as well as a commemoration to the 1968 Winter Olympics. The most astounding aspect of the entire area wasn't the impressive caves built into the mountain or the fact that not a single New Mexican participated in the Games, but the stylish ski outfits that everyone wore to the Games themselves.

Final Stop of Spring Break 2008: Paris

The week leading up to my first trip since returning from our around the world trip, I started getting that anxious anticipation of packing my green backpack and setting out on another adventure. This time though, it was an adventure with 44 other teachers, students, and parents. You could consider it more of an educational village taking over the narrow streets of France.

Bienvenue en France

Before we even set out on our trip, our first of many hurdles presented itself, our flight between Omaha and Dallas was one of many flights that had been cancelled on American Airlines. So with some quick thinking, we rented a bus and headed directly to Chicago. Without losing stride, but losing several hours of sleep in the process, we left Omaha at 5 a.m. Realizing how precious sleep would be, I tried my best to sleep, but my inability to sleep on any moving public transportation and the combination of incessant anxious chatter of students and other teachers, quality sleep was hard to come by.

Our flight from Chicago lead us to London Heathrow Airport, one of the busiest hubs in the world. I imagined Heathrow would be a spacious and expansive airport. I found it to be an airport of constant corridors going around in circles with hidden turns to get you to scratch your head, look over your shoulder, look at your boarding pass for the fifth time, and continue walking tentatively as if you were walking towards someone who is going to surprise you. I know know what a mice feel like in a maze. Needless to say, we ended up going through the same secruity line twice to the bewilderment of the security personnel and the students. We the chaperones found it to be pretty amusing, but the students not so much.

By the time we arrived in Nice, we had taken 4 flights and had been travelling for over 24 hours with a total of 43 people. To add to our rocky start, one student's bag was sent to Dallas, a destination that we hadn't visited, but the bag had still mysteriously found its way there. It eventually would arrive 5 days later in Paris. Another student was sick and vomiting, and this all happened in the first day and a half of our trip. What more could happen? Well, it did.

Who knew that New Mexican would find his way over to France wearing the same goofy ol' clothes?

Beginning our second day in France, we busted out of the confines of Nice to the ancient walled village of St. Paul de Vence. As we walked through the city to the southern edge where people are able to walk along the fortified wall. We reached a narrow section of wall that crossed over the entrance to the city, but that was closed off by a gate. Despite the the iron fence, three students had the bright idea of jumping over this fenced off area to walk along the ledge of the wall with a 20 to 25 foot drop to the cobbled stone road below. The first student landed safely, but the second didn't. With the student's feet crossed when he landed, he slipped, and started sliding over the edge. Luckily, the student turned their torso and grasped the ledge, and then fell. All of us rushed to the scene as I arrived first, we called for an ambulance, and I immediately ran to find the student's parents. WIthin two minutes, an ambulance was on the scene. Fortunately for everyone involved, the student's parents were both on the trip, and France is a country known for having excellent medical care. In the end of the day, the student was very lucky, even considering a shattered ankle and broken lower vertebrae, because it could have easily been much worse.

View from St. Paul de Vence

The mood of the trip immediately turned somber. We went on to Cannes despite the circumstances. The Cannes Film Festival starts in May. Activity around the Promenade Anglaise was pretty busy. After the days events I grabbed my prerequisite Magnum ice cream bar, and began walking some of the back streets of Nice all while looking for an ever evasive toilet. So as I was walking, an older French woman was sticking her head out of a her hotel. I quickly asked her if she knew where I could find a quick place to empty my bladder. She gladly let me use her bathroom. Relieved, I started walking to the front door when a medical student from Washington D.C. entered the hotel. She was looking for an apartment for the upcoming festival for her friend. The only problem, the medical student didn't speak French, and the French lady didn't speak English. I jumped in and served as urine-free translator. As a result, I earned my bathroom privileges by translating for them.

Next stop: the 68' Winter Olympics