Week 2: The discovery of NECTAR FROM HEAVEN

As my second week in Boulogne started, so did my observations at school. Whilst I of course used the opportunity within the classrooms to gauge the students’ level of English (minimal), the teaching methods (unprovoked shouting and harshness for ‘discipline’), and resources available during the class (blackboards and magnets are the staple ingredients), what I saw beyond the classroom was a perpetual reminder that I was now in France. For starters, rather than a car park for parents’ drop-offs, or those clichéd bike-sheds where the kids could begin their Parisian love adventures, there was SCOOTER CORNER. Scooters are the primary mode of transport for the Boulonnais, young and old. Walking down the road, locals do not bat an eyelid at professionals, garbed in suits, scooting their way along to work in the morning, and tying them to railings like bikes. Another unique aspect of French schools is the hour and a half lunch break. Mais, bien sur, it has to be this long to allow for the 5-course meal in the canteen, including a cheese course. And so it was, that on my first full day at school, I found myself eating Camembert and baguette, half-expecting to be offered a carafe of wine by the friendly cooks…

Scooter Corner

On Wednesday evening was a welcome ceremony at L’Hotel du Ville, hosted “en votre honneur” in “les Salons d’Honneur”, according to the formal invite I’d received as my first piece of post in my new apartment.  In attendance were the 13 assistants in Boulogne-Billancourt (Boul-Bi), the heads of our respective schools and a selection of people from the town council. After a speech from the town mayor, PC Baguet, and the education minister, I was very surprised, excited and grateful to be presented with a PRESENT! And not just any present, but an entry voucher to local museums and a LONGCHAMP BAG. What a way to make a gal feel welcome and appreciated… Perhaps even better than the present was the personalised town wrapping paper, a telling sign of the town’s wealth, further cemented by the champagne reception that followed. This was a level of occasion I expected from a standard night in Cambridge, not a Wednesday night in a suburb of Paris. The generous gifts, ceremony, champagne and paparazzi-photographer all worked to create a lovely evening, and a sense of the town’s true appreciation of my presence in Boul-Bi for the year.

The Boul-Bi assistants outside L'Hotel du Ville

As the week progressed, children at school began to recognise who I was and, more importantly, appreciate my near-ignorance of the French language. No longer were they running up to me, as young children do with strangers, babbling away in French about themselves and their Pokémon cards (as France is, in fact, 15 years behind; I saw a Furby advert on the metro yesterday), only to be faced with my bemused, apologetic face. Instead, walking through the playground at lunchtime, I was now met with unremitting “Hello’s!” and “Good Morning’s!”. After the first thousand, I stopped correcting them. Appropriate greetings, I decided, would be my first lesson. 

Mercure, by Pierres + Giles

As Thursday evening rolled around, my first working week was finished (it’s a hard life…)! Catriona, Alice and I made our way to Musee D’Orsay, as galleries are open late on Thursday nights, for the Masculin/Masculin exhibition, a study of the male nude in art through time, ooeer. Art from the 18^th to present day was laid bare, with certain rooms adorning the following warning that some might want to shield their eyes from all that was unashamedly exposed: "Please note that some of the pieces presented in the exhibition may be shocking to some visitors." The exhibition displayed a range of artistic techniques, all given equal weight: painting, sculpture, graphic arts and photography. Throughout were dispersed the particularly attention-grabbing, hand-painted, highly stylized photographs of Pierre and Giles. In their multi-layered pieces, the bodies appear 3D. 

Musee d'Orsay

As if the twice-weekly Billancourt market wasn’t enough, Boulogne on the 11^th-13^th October hosted Le Marché des Producteurs de Pays. The regional produce consisted very heavily of foie gras, danger-cheese and homemade jams. The latter meant free tasters, against the backdrop of shoppers with dogs in bags, the smell of roasting chestuts, and the discovery of NECTAR FROM HEAVEN i.e. Caramel au Beurre Salé – salted butter caramel. I have since smothered French toast in the delight, and have officially found something that trumps Nutella. 

I declined the offer to try the lethal cheese...

The week ended with a bang, quite literally, at Fête des Vendanges de Montmartre. This was the 80^th year of the wine festival, which celebrates the vintage of a local monastery’s vineyard and the cobbled streets surrounding the Sacre Coeur were heaving with festival-goers and tents of local produce: charcuterie, honey, cheese and of course, very cheap wine – available to TASTE for FREE. On the steps of the Sacre Coeur was a jazz band, and at 21.45, came the fireworks, which sent sparkles across the Parisian sky.