Retour en arrière... le premier jour où je suis tombée amoureuse du français.

"Ma bouche sera la bouche des malheurs qui n'ont point de bouche, ma voix, la liberté de celles qui s'affaissent au cachot du désespoir."

When I first read Cahier d'un retour au pays natal in Montpellier, France, I knew.  This literature stuff really COULD move mountains, change the order of things, express what you can't express on a day-to-day basis.  It could be put to good use, serving as a witness to events and experiences that otherwise go unheard.  

Last night, I went to my first (of many I hope!) theater performance in Geneva, an adaptation of Cahier performed by the director of my theater workshop.... and it was a return to my initial love story with Francophone literature.  I remembered why I do what I do, why I love listening to the French language, reading it and sharing it with others.  It was my first night out on the town since my quarantine phase... and it was great to bring together a crew of people I adore in Geneva.  On a fait trois soirées en une!, as my friend Bérengère put it (We had three parties in one!).  Theater, followed by a drink at a bar, followed by the American Party.  And then... we could have made it four with the Usine folks near Plainpalais, but it wasn't much of a party, so we continued along on our journey home.  I must say, whizzing around Geneva at night, with all of its twinkling lights, that is pretty magical. :)    

Quarantine

Following up on the Pilgrims piece, while it was an excellent idea--in theory--to walk 25km on the Chemin de Compostelle on Saturday and to run 14.6km the following day with the Run Evasion Rhône, it was not an excellent idea in terms of my health.  I have spent the last three days sick and at home.  NOT my idea of a good time.  I won't go in to the sordid details about my condition (one word: mucus), but let's just say it isn't pretty.  I'm really not good with enforced down time.  I enjoy relaxing, don't get me wrong, but I hate it when I don't have the choice to do so, and I simply must, as the world goes on outside my windows.

I know, enough of the complaining.  It could be a lot worse.  Still... That doesn't change the fact that I have had LOTS of time to think about all of the people I miss back home and all the fun events I've missed going on here.  And it makes me sad.  Even if I sound like a whiney baby, that's the truth.  Quarantine sucks.

They say that life's a journey... Pilgrims on the road in fact.

This past weekend I walked 25km with  Olga, the woman who is in charge of the Foyer International pour Jeunes Filles, where I live, and Bérengère, a new friend who also lives in the Foyer, along with 125 or so other pilgrims. 

The day began with mass in Moudon--held in a small Protestant church actually that opened their doors to us (quite interesting really--it was a Catholic church pre-Reformation, has been a Protestant church ever since, and they still let us come in).  The minister of the church actually gave the sermon, and the main point was "Heureux plutôt ceux qui entendent la parole de Dieux, et qui la gardent!", a statement Jesus declared to underscore the fact that faith has nothing to do with being a birthright or an inheritance.  Rather, it's a personal choice that comes from within, rather than without.  It's not just a family upbringing, a mindless routine, something I've been forced to do every Sunday.  It's a choice... and I'm grateful that it is that.

Following the mass, there was a benediction and a prayer asking for safety for our footsteps... and we all chose to embark.  We were asked to spend the first hour in meditation (and that hour flew by!).  I thought about and prayed for my grandmother, who had suffered a stroke the day before, and was giving thanks for this adventure I've been granted.  Lots of other friends and family were in my thoughts as I was walking...  and then the hour was gone, and the walking continued, alternating between quality conversation with newfound friends and comfortable periods of reflection.  We were tired at the end of the 25km, and there was a closing service at a church in Lausanne before we got on the train to return to Geneva.  More time for walking and reflection would have been a good thing... but my growing cold had steadily worsened over the course of the day, and I knew the next day held 14.6km of running.

The Run Evasion Rhône race was not my best, in terms of time and comfort.  But it was a beautiful trail run through the forest and countryside... I'd like to do the same route again, when I'm healthy.  As the first leg of the relay though, I couldn't leave my new friends Carey and John in the lurch!  I finished the 9 miles and enjoyed the race considerably, given my state! :)  And I have the best European race schwag ever... a beach towel that I will surely use, as opposed to an ill-fitting race t-shirt. Proof that I survived!

Both of these journeys called to mind The Servant Song--"We are pilgrims on a journey, we are travelers on the road, we are here to help each other, walk the mile and bear the load."

I'm so grateful to have found kindreds along my way here in Geneva... people with whom I can see this journey through. :)

Coup de théâtre...

Soooo, today I am on a bit of a high from last night's theater workshop.  Three hours of theatrical play--the first hour consisted of warm-ups and introductions.  We had to walk around the room as if we were in a cemetery, then pay our respects to the person we had lost.  Too morbid you say?  Five minutes later, we had to pretend we were on the beaches of Bali, after a night out on the town... We could interact with other folks as much or as little as we wanted.  After we were warmed up, dans le bain, si vous voulez, we were put into six groups of five.  We were given some sheets of paper with elements that we had to incorporate in our scene.  My group had an article about firemen selling a sexy calendar to benefit children with cancer, a sheet with horoscopes, and an ad for a live chat phone number for gays. We had to incorporate at least one element from each sheet of paper.  So our scene?  Three girls giggling at home, reading their horoscopes... two gay firemen come to the door, acting as if there was a fire... in reality--they were selling their calendar.  The scene ended when we decided to go grab a drink somewhere.  Not exactly Shakespeare--but THERE WAS NO SCRIPT.

Before we performed, we watched everyone else do so... there were some really good scenes and some not so good ones.  But it was amazing to see everyone think on their feet and try to let go of their inhibitions.  Improv in English always interested me, but there's something about doing it in French--I just know I'll make progress in the language this way, even if I make a fool of myself in the process.  And since there's already the risk of making a fool of myself linguistically, I think I'll feel a bit freer to do so when it comes to the acting part as well.

So--the best part: after we performed the director says... Alright!  I have found my heroine for the next game we're going to play, a large group improvisation.  And he was talking about ME.  He says to me, You're going to play the role of Doris Leuthard (WHO? I thought to myself... no idea who that is).  He could tell I had no idea, and said, don't worry, not important, here's who she is: the president of the German part of Switzerland.  Anyway, the scenario was this: I was coming to give a speech to a crowd of people who were pissed off about legislation passed on insurance/unemployment benefits.  Journalists were there to pose questions, as well as angry citizens.  I had to calm them down, and say nothing that might set them off... although inevitably, I would-someone would throw a pie at me, and my security guards would have to take me away. 

Sure!  No problem.  A cake walk. :)  Having NO background on this stuff, it was hard to improvise my way through it, but I did--I tried to be a regal presidential type, turning the crowd's questions back on them, just as any good politician would.  Not an Oscar-worthy performance, but not a completely failed attempt either.  The worst part?  When I'm nervous, my accent and grammar kinda go down the tubes.  Hopefully doing this more often will make those problems become less pronounced.  I'm definitely thinking I will learn some new vocabulary. 

The challenging part--LOTS of people want to participate (around 35?), and only 20 people were admitted.  I had enjoyed myself so much, and I knew I was on the waiting list.  After the workshop, I learned that the director is doing a performance of Cahier d'un retour au pays natal in the next two weeks (for those of you who don't know, that is one of my all-time favorite books by Aimé Césaire... I just knew I was in the right place!).  So, when I got home, I wrote the director--not to harass him about letting me in, but just to say how much I really enjoyed it, and I hoped a spot might come open for me.  He wrote back and said--I was thinking about you, you're in.  You were great.  See you next week. :)  YAAAAAAAY!  Oh dear... that means I have to do this again....   MERDE!  (in both senses of the word... that's what you say in French in theater--it's like "Break a leg!").

Justifying language study's raison d'être

Today has been a great day... I've navigated the aisles of the Coop grocery store in French, listened to the news on TF1, attended a trauma theory class in English, and worked on my Arabic homework via the intermediary of French.  To say nothing of discovering how to say "lint," since I failed to remove it from the lint trap and got it all over my clothes as I was removing them from the dryer (I'll need to know how to explain myself as I hit the streets covered in "des peluches").

All was going well, and then I received an email about the deactivation of the French, Italian and Russian programs at SUNY-Albany.

Needless to say, this is mildly depressing news as I embark on my second to last year of my French Ph.D. program.  Seven fewer tenure-track positions to fill; seven experienced, accomplished professors back on the market.  If a huge university system like SUNY can disband its foreign language programs (except for Spanish), then any university can.  My reaction?  Anger.  Disbelief.  Disappointment.  For such a forward-thinking nation, our university education system--especially if it gets rid of foreign language programs--is slowly losing its mettle on the world stage.  I'm currently studying in Geneva, Switzerland where everyone is raised speaking at least two, if not three languages, or more!  Of the foreign students I've met from Austria, Canada, Finland, France, the Czech Republic... all of them speak more than one language, and they do it WELL.  They haven't taken a language for only three years and are now purporting to be fluent... they actually are.  Denying future American students the opportunity to do the same will only put them at a disadvantage on the world market.  We're already behind linguistically as it is, and decisions like this will only make the situation worse, fueling the attitude that English is more than enough, especially if it is US running the proverbial show (double entendre intended--did you catch it?  See?  Language play!).   

What has language study given me?  Another perspective on how to perceive the world (make that three!).  An openness to other ways of thinking.  An appreciation for words and meaning.  A capacity to communicate and express myself through more than one media.  The ability to put people at ease when they do not speak English as well as their own native tongue.  An introduction to literature in the language it was composed in (what, you mean The Count of Monte Cristo wasn't written in English?).  Jobs that I am passionate about--both teaching and translation.  In short, language study has dramatically shaped who I am--for the better.  Moving in the direction of professional degrees only simply isn't productive!  And this is not to say that I want to continue in the way of the old guard, writing articles that will be relegated to a dusty shelf and producing graduate student progeny that will struggle to make ends meet as adjuncts.  I want to become like some of my most admired professors and colleagues who are doing applied humanities work, putting language to functional use in society, and inspiring students on a daily basis.  There is definitely room for improvement and innovation in the humanities today, but deactivation will not allow us to do either.