Like a Rolling Stone

             
"A rolling stone gathers no moss"-Publius Syrus (attributed)

A picture taken from the top of Nantes' only skyscraper, the Tour de Bretagne (my picture pales in comparison). Several of us went to the bar at the top called "Le Nid" (The Nest); view's only thing you get for free, but what a view it is...

House Wolves and Tram Duels

Unlike the girl in Dylan's epic contribution to rock and roll (Edie Sedgwick?), I'm trying to take the ancient wisdom of that age-old adage to heart. As much as I do love fast-moving things, I'm doing my best to establish a life here, whether it lasts one year, two years, or indefinitely. Ha, as the British might say, I'm getting stuck in.

I have much to report, but I'll save the text heavy posting for next week (my first holiday, Toussaint, French All-Saints). One amusing encounter I must share though comes from my time on the trams. As  I was riding home from meeting my friend Rachel's wonderful new dog, Ty Loup (Ty=house in Breton Loup=wolf in French, fine name for a fine dog), I found myself surrounded by a pack of drunk French teenagers. One of them politely asked me if they could take over the previously empty tram car where I was situated, and after smiles and back pats, his friends were involved in what I can only describe as something resembling combat in the Thunderdome of Mad Max lore. Two of the group were swinging from overhead handrails, kicking each other while the others chanted (about like this, only in French http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pmRAiUPdRjk). The TAN officer near the conductor's compartment took a single glance at the mortal combat and shot me a look, a mixture of fear and disgust, that practically cried out "I don't get paid enough for this shit" as he retreated into the compartment and sealed the door. Haha, Vive la France, a fine place to root oneself.        

As for their game, I can't tell you who won, but considering that they were all drunk and riding illegally, "when you ain't got nothing, you got nothing to lose."

Cordialement,

John



P.S:

(A more terrestrial view of the same bridge, the Éric Tabarly)

("Armored" blinds deployed)

(Our entry gate)

(Outside corridor...the closet that once held the rat is ahead to the left)

("Living Room" haha...)

(My purple and white bed arrangement...I burned my beloved Sewanee blanket in a dryer, so it doesn't "glow" like it used to, but it's still warm).

 (Far cry from five star dining, but this is the staple of my diet)

 (Rebecca and Jonathan's blessings, my Cheerios, and Mr. Hyde's Sewanee shot glass...blessings indeed)

(My secret supply of peanut butter, an exotic commodity in France that I'm saving it for fellow ex-pats. Good vintage on those Cliff Bars). 

(Easley and Dan Dan....)

(:37....http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G7X5s5vacIU) 

You Never Can Tell

"C'est la vie" say the old folks; it goes to show you never can tell."-Chuck Berry, "You Never Can Tell"

In Medias "Race"

Laptop case slung over shoulder and backpack firmly secured, I stand centimeters away from the green and white doors of Nantes' Line 1 tram and try to avoid elbowing any of the 8 Nantais within breathing distance. Through the Plexiglass windows I track my Line 2 connecting tram as it glides towards its platform across the way and can't help but mumble "shit."The phonetically immaculate female voice chimes "Commerce," and I prepare to charge. Ten seconds left....I sweep my gaze over my fellow commuters, and our shared situation is unspoken but wholly understood; each of us must make it to that connecting train or arrive late to our respective jobs.

Zero. I look to the French student directly next to me, smile, and say "rock and roll" as her thumb mashes the orange door control button. The doors open, and we leap forth like horses out of the starting gate. I clutch my bulky laptop to my chest like a square-shaped rifle and sprint the 200 meters to the Line 2 platform.  40 seconds later, I'm sweating before class and missing Sewanee cross country, but at least I'm on time and on the correct tram. Most of my fellow sprinters make it, but this time there's also the last place finisher, le pauvre who desperately presses the door control button only to find that his efforts were in vain; sacrifices must be made in the world of mass transit...his only consolation prizes are a ride on the next tram and a 20 minute wait. (Makes me think of the ending of Von Ryan's Express, and no, I don't believe it's possible to spoil a movie from 1965, haha: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fCqHfqhoMqo)

That's the average Wednesday and Friday rush for me. My imagination always seems to turn things as mundane as morning commutes into epic struggles, but it does make for a better story (I have, for the record, witnessed a drug deal on the tram; oddly enough, it's a rather boring tale). Speaking of epic transit stories, seeing ticket-less people flee from the conductors is always perversely entertaining (I've only fled from them once; now I have my papers "en règle" as the French say). Still, when I see the ominous pack of trench coats board the tram---agents of TAN's bizarrely named "Greeting and Notification Service"---I secretly pretend that they are Gestapo officers hunting for Resistance operatives or escaped Allied POW's (and my heart sure as hell pounded during my one and only getaway from them...there's a scene from the Great Escape that comes to mind).

All that said, I still laugh when I imagine myself on the tram, a Mobile kid packed in with the dozens of assorted French folk, "stuck like a duck in a pen." Smells range from unspeakably vile to oddly pleasant, but I won't waste any more time on stereotypes. Suffice it to say that people are people; "C'est la vie" say the French and Chuck Berry. Still, the fact that I'm now a rush hour tram commuter does indeed go to show you never can tell, haha.  Now if anyone can't already tell, I settled on Chuck Berry's iconic tune for my third "song of the week," and seeing several of my students imitate the Travolta-Thurman dance in their chairs at the beginning of class confirmed that it was a worthy selection. I'm not sure if I'll continue the "song of the week" tradition indefinitely, but I think I'll try to find at least a couple more good ones for the semester. I'm thinking I'll play "Homecoming King" for one advanced class whose questions about Homecoming became a minor infatuation when I told them I had been a Homecoming King myself. Nothing like a good satirical song about the whole process to confound stereotypes, haha. I think Sewanee's is at least a bit more dignified than a high school affair, and I look forward to seeing which 2013'er's will ascend to the Prom Queen-Throne this year.  

Anyway, there have been some issues with my classes, most notably when a pair of guys announced that they wanted to choose "sex with a condom" vs. "sex without a condom" as their "serious" debate project. I almost publicly executed their grades, but I managed to retract my claws and instead gave them a disgusted glare and a warning to "drop what you're saying immediately." No one in the class laughed, so they aren't even passing as class clowns. I hope that I don't have to make good on my original plan to kick them out, but I'm not wholly convinced that this will be the last I hear from those two. Fortunately, incidents like that represent a statistically insignificant portion of my time teaching.  Things are going rather well, and, as I realized last Wednesday, I've already begun to grow into my role.

Last Wednesday was our monthly "English Night," a gathering at a local bar called "Délirium" where the only rule is that everyone make an effort to speak English (it sells the whole line of those high-powered Delirium beers...Tee, if you're reading this, you'd probably think the owner was Willy---Guillaume?---Wonka). It was on the Délirium porch---where I'd escaped from the mass of people crammed in the sweltering interior--- that I abandoned the "Am I a teacher?" attitude in favor of  "No, I'm definitely a teacher." About 10 of my (drunk) students surrounded me (just when I thought I knew no one there but my coworkers), and soon I had met boyfriends, girlfriends, and other members of their respective entourages after the introduction: "This is our teacher! He's the one from Alabama!" It's a tricky task being both an educator and a friend, especially considering we are almost all the same age (+ or - 3 years), but I think I've built my "authority wall" high enough to last a semester before it's worn down by all this fraternizing (It's hard not to be  be friends with the girl in one of my advanced classes who wants to do her cultural presentation on the Walking Dead or American survivalist culture--she couldn't decide---a student after my own heart). That said, I made sure to assert myself intellectually (lest they stop treating me with academic respect) by challenging them to French history duels. They quickly accepted that I was indeed a better student of their history than them somewhere between Vercingetorix and the Eiffel Tower; "Honi soit qui mal pense" à French Studies at Sewanee, haha.

I'm getting around to venturing out of Nantes and will surely post about any interesting travel-adventures. In lieu of my actual pictures (which I promise are coming!), please accept a Fictional one as an IOU:

Cordialement,

John


P.S: I recently learned that the product "Velcro" is a hybrid (portmanteau) of "velours" and "crochet," "velvet" and "hook" in French. Cute little trivia fact for you...I reckon that cute little trivia facts represent something like 90% of my total knowledge.

Rocky Top, Tennessee

"I've spent years of city life trapped like a duck in a pen!
All I know's that it's a pity life can't be simple again!"-Felice and Boudleaux Bryant, "Rocky Top"

"J'en ai marre de la vie urbaine, piégé comme une poule dans un parc! 

La vie ici n’est guère si simple, et c’est ma dernière remarque ! "-John Gilmer (translator), "Le Rocky Top" Haha... 

Well I've done it; I've taught my first official classes, and I loved almost every minute of it (barring a few predictably awkward silences). I played the entirety of "Sweet Home Alabama" complete with a French translation as my introductory activity, and it was a success with every class---first years to masters students.  I've decided to establish a "song of the week" policy because it seems to me that, beyond my loving music, such an activity offers several benefits: it provides structure, cultural immersion, an aural learning opportunity, ready-made translation work, and, of course, a damn good way to keep everyone's attention (particularly in my 8am/9am courses when only caffeine, my sense of duty, and, most importantly, Lynyrd Skynyrd are keeping me from sleeping at my desk).

So in keeping with that plan, I've selected "Rocky Top" as my second week song. NB: This is not an endorsement of UT football, but rather a tribute to the state I've grown to consider my second home. If anyone's interested in hearing my "cover" of it, just tell me, haha. I kept most of the rhyming and meter intact in my translation, even if "moonshine still" is entirely untranslatable in French.

Anyway, after the "Sweet Home" experience, I transitioned to my main actvity for the first day, "2 truths and a lie,"a venerable old game, ever popular in the summer camp circuits. Here were the 12 statements I composed about myself in an effort to give them some material to work with (and perfect an occasionally self-depricating standup comedy routine that scored massive laughs by my final class when it had been refined):

1. I'm an indentical twin. (T)
2. I love cats. (F, in the extreme)
3. I can speak German fluently. (F, just enough to deceive people into thinking I do)
4. I dressed like this daily at my University. (T, plus ties)
5. I was once asked to be the "Golden Snitch" in a game of "Quidditch." (T)
6. I can play the violin. (T, but poorly)
7. I wanted to be a teacher when I was young. (F, doctor, I fix broken english not broken bones, lol!1!!)
8. My hometown, Mobile, was once a French colony. (T, the Monarchy, not the Republic)
9. I have never watched the show Breaking Bad (F in the extreme again; I also use this time to point to New Mexico on my map)
10. I've won the lottery.  (T, 50 dollars....better than nothing!)
11. I ran 16 kilometers last night. (T, look for the dude running at night with a headlamp, possibly lost)
12. I've broken 3 bones. (T, weren't no fun....)

Each one was paired with at least one story that taught them a bit about me. For example, 2. "I love cats" was followed by my confessed affection for the cat who lives between the library and Language Center, "Butch." Clearly a cat who lives at a University must be intelligent and refined; he even lets people pet him without demanding food.  With number 8. I'd score laughs by making fun of Mobilians for saying "Petty Boy" island" instead of "Petit Bois" and the young John Gilmer for thinking "Dauphin Island" was "Dolphin Island" for longer than he'd care to admit. I think I landed enough of my jokes to say that I passed as a professor-comedian; I even kept a class of 20 girls laughing for the entire hour (drawing a cat face in the word "cat" has had the highest success rate, haha).

At any rate, I've heard so many hilarious little comments from my students already that they are almost numerous beyond recounting: the girl who hesistated to pronounce the "a-cola" suffix of "coke" when describing something she was addicted to, the girl who annonced that her boyfriend was "married" when she was trying to say a "mariner," and the girl who proudly announced that she had already dated a boy from Alabama (apparently they met when he was at the Naval Academy and she in DC...she did not recall what city he was from, leading me to believe that her definition of "date" is far more liberal than mine, haha). One guy told the class that he'd met the Queen of England and was met with laughter, only to recount an amazing story of how he, as a child, had nearly been able to shake her hand. Ha, and of course one girl joked about being afraid of butterflies only to have another announce that the "fluttering monsters" scared her to tears. Oh yeah, and one girl was traumatized by the movie ET; thanks a lot for that scene with the Fed's in space suits, Spielberg.

I also have the female Judo champion of Senegal in one of my courses, haha.

Anyway, never in my life since I was the "Trivia Lord" of Camp Alpine's "Hunter Hollow" have I found my breadth of random knowledge so useful. I can make use of everything from French history, Latin, linguistics, animal facts, anatomy, and geography to  Game of Thrones, video games, Breaking Bad, English-speaking musicians, and The Simpsons. Ha, the two places I've almost always been comfortable have been the classroom and the bar trivia arena; looks like I've finally found perfect overlap. In fact, the only thing that's really changed in my life is my location in the classroom and a dramatic increase in my use of MS Excel.  

Find attached a video of Jules Verne's mechanical elephant that I might prove my loyalty to Alabama football despite my love for "Rocky Top" (particularly the Flying Burrito Brothers version). Hope everyone who's reading this is doing well, whatever your coordinates, and I hope to write again soon.

Cordialement,

"Monsieur Gilmer" (I really need keep telling them to call me John...)


P.S: "Now my fur has turned to skin, and I've been quickly ushered in to a world that I confess I do not know, but I still dream of running careless through the snow..."-Blitzen Trapper, "Furr"

That line has never resonated with me as much as it does now; Sewanee memories are beginning to feel as distant as home these days, and I must confess that there are moments when I'm running along the Loire that I wish it were a dry creekbed along the Mountain Goat Trail. I don't run with my pack anymore, and while I've embraced the inevitable (ever encroaching...) reality of growing up, I sometimes long for those glorious moments blazed out in finish chutes, "young, and wild, and free, like Texas in 1880."

(Despite the trunk-hose, I was extremely disappointed to find that it is powered by wheels, not its own mechanical feet....RTR anyway)

                                          

 (and there's Waldo)