Week 15: "Chocolate cups filled with...paté"

New term. Back to school. Back to babysitting. Back to tutoring. Back to my demoralising French course, where I hardly understand the instructions to the activity, let alone know the answers.

My first week back at school reminded me how hilarious kids can be. Firstly, how their heads explode at the slightest change. Every time I entered a class, my new hair cut was met with a flurry of whispers (“elle a coupé ses cheveux”) and much intrigue. Secondly, the comedy high-point of the week was playing Chinese whispers, le telephone arabe, with my oldest class. The class clown repeatedly asked if he could choose “un juron”, a swear-word, and when I said no, he got his own back by changing the innocent words every time they passed through him. In this way, “four” became “What did the fox say?” and “ghost” became “Gangnam style”.

Catriona, her crown, her cow, and cake

The first day back, the 6th January, coincided with the feast of Épiphanie. In France, this comes with the cultural tradition of eating Gallettes des Rois, a cake made of puff pastry and filled with frangipane. Hidden inside the cake is a fève , a little figurine, and whoever finds this within their slice of gallette becomes the king for the day, and is given a coronne to wear. At the moment, the boulangeries are full of these cakes and accompanying crowns. When I went into the canteen at school, I found a handful of children, those who had evidently found the fèves in their slice of cake, wearing crowns. Back in the flat, we also celebrated Epiphany with our own gallette. Catriona found the fève - a tiny cow – but despite her best efforts, couldn’t really get the child-sized crown to fit…

On Wednesday, the January sales started – hurrah! Weirdly here, sales are biannual and state-regulated, meaning that unlike in England, where sales practically started before Christmas this season, in France they start nation-wide on the same date, and tend to run for about 6 weeks. So far, I’ve managed to restrain myself (largely; one dress doesn’t count, right? I blame Rachel’s encouragement) but as I walk down a high street heaving with great shops every day to get to work, I’m not sure how long my will power will hold out.

The Grand Palais is currently hosting the exhibition Cartier: Le Style et l’Histoire, which I visited on Wednesday. Perhaps surprisingly, given that diamonds instantly sparkle into mind whenever one thinks of Cartier, the exhibition is not dominated by girl’s best friend. Of course, diamonds aren’t in short supply, as confirmed by the thorough security checks and heavy security presence. However, Cartier’s biggest ever expo presents not only diamonds but the entire history of Paris’ world-famous jewellery house, from 1947 to present day. The expo traces the evolution of style and taste, from classicism to art deco to modernism. They displayed Elizabeth Taylor’s ruby necklace and earrings, Grace Kelly’s engagement ring, and the 1936 halo tiara Kate Middleton wore on her wedding day, with 888 diamonds.

Sparkly things

More bling

Kate Middleton's wedding tiara, designed for the Queen Mother in 1936

The absolute highlight of the week, though, perhaps even of my time in Boulogne so far, was my Thursday night at L’Hôtel du Ville (the town hall): a New Year party, thrown by the mayor for all those working for le mairie, the town coucil. It wasn’t just a party celebrating the New Year – it actually pretended it was New Year’s Eve at one point, with a countdown, followed by Auld Lang Syne. This surrealism gives some insight into the craziness that was this party, for which I was woefully unprepared. After some important people (inc. the mayor) said some important things in French (probably important, if I’d understood) to a 300-strong throng of revellers, the buffet began. On one hand, it was INCREDIBLE. Unlimited sushi and smoken salmon bellinis. On the other hand, it was AWFUL. What looked like chocolate cups filled with ganache actually turned out to be chocolate cups filled with…paté. WHY, FRANCE, WHY? Beside the unlimited food (which got much safer with dessert) and drink, the Room of Honour had been transformed into a disco, complete with a slush puppy machine, and podiums for the hired dancers (with about 6 costume changes) to perform on. Other entertainment included a magician-come-balloon artist, who stole Natalie’s watch, and made us all excellent balloon hats. It was all entirely surreal but fantastic.

Balloon hats!

A disco in L'Hotel de Ville...?

Entertainment

Misleading chocolate cups

The magician

Moving on from the partying, and onto French (and the reason, arguably I am here): the best French word I learnt this week was “pourboire”, which my convo exchange partner Jeremy taught me. It means “tips” (as in, tips for waiters in restaurants) and I love the literalness of this word. A direct translation would be “to drink”, so it seems likely the word has evolved from restaurant clients giving deserving waiters some money “pour boire”, and just stuck.

Pretending it was New Year's Eve

Wanting to seek out somewhere a bit different for our Saturday night, Rachel, Natalie, Catriona, Rachel (Cat’s friend) and I headed to L’Oya, a bar in the 13th noteworthy for its collection of over 500 board games for patrons to use with their drinks. The word “bar”, however, is misleading. We arrived to find a fully-lit, sweaty and stuffy café, with the clientele drinking tea and coffee. Not what we’d expected. We were told that “il est vraiment important de reserver le weekend”, and although there was a free table we could have had, we decided that we’d go back during the daytime and in the meantime go somewhere a bit more evening-y (and with wine).

L'Oya