C'est Nice

I came to Fnac hoping to use their WiFi, only to find that it doesn’t seem to be working today. Awesome. Well, it’s good that I’m here without it, anyway, for the moment. I can catch up with things that don’t require the net.

As per usual, life on the Cote is pretty easy-going. I’m starting to dry up on ideas for classes... there are a few classes that I feel pretty intent on doing good classes for, but for some of the worse ones, I’ve already started phoning it in. Today I showed my two worst classes the better half of the first episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. It actually worked better than I’d thought, both at keeping them quiet (definitely an uphill battle with this group), and getting them to speak English. I’d pause the show for a few moments every few minutes and explain what certain things meant. And it’s a pretty good way to show them what American High Schools sort of look like. Anyway, I’m just happy they didn’t talk so much.

My trip to Italy/Morocco is becoming more and more imminent. I leave in just over ten days for Pioppi, which is exciting. It’ll be nice to see Gram, to get fat on Italian food, and relax in a more intense way than I’m already doing. I’ve pretty much decided at this point that I’m going to go Venice on my way to Milan (the flight to Marrakech leaves from there); Brunella, one of the Italian Assistants said I shouldn’t miss it, and I quite like Venice in small doses (well, I guess those are the only doses I’ve ever had it in). Maybe I’m crazy; that’s a distinct possibility. I guess we just have to wait to find out.

The most charged thing to happen in the last few days, however, involved the beloved Lycée. We got notices posted on our doors on Thursday morning last week, saying we had to go down to the Secretariat ASAP about something. Charlotte and Annapaola had already gone, and showed me a letter that all the Assistants were getting, basically excoriating us for the deplorable state we were keeping our rooms and bathroom and kitchen in. Once again, I find this an opportune time to use my favorite phrase of all-time: “Don’t piss on my back and tell me it’s raining.” Why is it appropriate? Well, my friends, because the state in which the rooms and bathroom and kitchen were presented to us was so much worse than how they are now, that it seems pretty rich for them to criticize us about how it looks. Anyway, they were supposed to do an inspection of all our rooms today, but they never showed, go figure. I did a half-hearted straightening of my room, trying to think of clever come-backs should they criticize me, like “Je suis désolé, vous vous appelez Karen Beckerman? Parce-que ma mére s’appelle Karen Beckerman, et elle est la seule personne qui peux me dire nettoyer ma chamber.” Or “Aux États-Unis, ça c’est consideré propre.”

But sadly, only you will get to there my snappy French retorts. Ah well, I guess you’re used to being spoiled. Speaking of spoiled, they’re showing Lords of Dogtown over and over and over again here in the Fnac Café, with Heath Ledger looking a little too much like a surfer dude to also be looking like a cowboy and a Venetian Casanova. Versatile is the word, I guess.

Okay, well, I’m going to look for a connection somewhere. Wish me luck, folks.

----

Added at 19:16 CET

So, lo and behold, I've found said internet connection... in a bar. To be specific, it's Ma Nolan's Irish Pub in Nice, spoken highly of by both French and English alike. It's quite a nice atmosphere, although this is the first time I've sat inside, as it is often packed to the gills. Anyway, It's nice to be here now. It's been a bit of a stressful afternoon, involving two British girl, a Kiwi and her 5 year old daughter, a coffee pot, and driving in a British car (with the wheel on the wrong side) through the winding streets of Vieux Nice. Definitely a story to tell after I get a(nother) pint in me. Patience, my lovelies. Patience. (PS. I just ran into a bartender I know from another bar... awkward).