Comparaison des villes: Beaune et Nevers

From Nevers, take the Bourgogne regional TRE train two hours to the north on the way to Dijon, and you'll find yourself in Beaune. It's a town that is fairly well known, even in the US, for its vineyards and general beauty. It's in the heart of the Burgundy wine region and is surrounded on all sides by very picturesque vigne (grapevines). Inside the town are other marks of the wine industry, including many wine production centers, a professional lycée offering specializations in wine making, and numerous caves à vin (the name for wine cellars that also designates wine shops). Otherwise, if you've heard of Beaune, it might be for its characteristic Burgundy-region toitures (rooftops) with colorful shingles providing decoration through imaginative geometric patterns. Or who knows, maybe the students at one of the other lycées with a tourism degree have succeeded in making their town known à l'étranger (abroad).

Before arriving in the town on the 17th of October, where I was headed for the weekend to visit fellow assistants Annie Worth, Diana Sibbald and Becca Bonthius and to attend a salon de dégustation (tasting fair, although really the translation doesn't do justice to the word "dégustation," which includes a whole spectrum of knowledge of flavors and sensitivity to their qualities and pairings), I wasn't sure what to expect. I had heard that Beaune is a beautiful place, but that was about it.

I took the train on Saturday morning after having the house to myself and almost missed the train because I didn't leave the house with quite enough time to make it to la gare (the train station). Luckily I am quite familiar with Nevers by now and know to take the short route rather than the long route to the station. I ran all the way there and arrived as the train was already in the station. Chouette (great). Luckily, I caught the train and was able to eat my breakfast in peace and read my book. The fact that I had forgotten my carte 12-25 (the discount card for passangers aged from 12 to 25 with which I had bought my ticket and which normally needs to be presented upon contrôle) didn't matter to the conductor. Everything was fine and I had a really beautiful ride through the Burgundy countryside, where the colors have started to change from the green of the fertile fields, vines, and trees to the tans, oranges, and reds of early autumn. When I arrived in Beaune, Annie and Diana were already at the train station, which compared to Nevers' is quite quaint. La gare de Nevers has a modern entrance way with silver space-aged benches out front in the middle of a gravel esplanade. In Beaune, la gare has a couple of benches, lots of book stands, and a surprising number of people bustling around. My trip was off to a brisk start, with stark differences already making it a weekend to remember.

To pass the morning, Diana, Annie, and I went to the marché in Beaune. I must admit that I haven't yet been to the marché in Nevers, so I won't be able to give a full and detailed comparaison (comparison) on this point. What I can do is describe the center of town, which is a small open place hidden in a thicket of narrow, winding streets with houses that are just a bit too tall to be friendly lining them. The path from la gare to la place goes across the circular boulevard, la boucle (the ring), I believe it was called. Just on the interior of la boucle is a grandiose entrance to the town with a large gate and neat bright green topiaries. We passed by lots of up-scale boutiques (shops) with plenty of vêtements (clothes), confisseries (candies), and, of course, vin (wine). En se promenant vers la place (While walking to the center), I already noticed the lack of panneaux "à louer" ("for rent" signs) that give life to the many vacant windows in Nevers. Once we arrived at the hub of Saturday morning activity, the market, the three of us took the time to stroll around, take in the sights, and take a few pictures. The market was especially vivant, coloré et avait des biens de très bonne qualité (lively, colorful, and had very high quality wares). After looking at les écharpes en laine, les feuilles de salade ondulées, les fromages crémeux et les fruits de toutes les couleurs (wollen scarves, ruffled lettuce leaves, creamy cheeses and fruits in every color), we decided to prepare ourselves a picnique (picnic) for lunch. I have yet to have a picnic for lunch in Nevers, probably because... nope, I don't have a good reason. We bought a baguette from a local boulangerie (bakery) after much deliberation and some cheese at the marché from a fromageur (cheese seller) who was very friendly and let us taste everything before we bought it. Then we grabbed some pommes, saucisson et chocolat (apples, dried sausage, and chocolate) and headed for a little parc qu'Annie tient à coeur (park that Annie is fond of). The park has a little pond, next to which another group of picnic-ers was already present, munching on their own baguettes. We found a table next to le manège (the carousel) and set ourselves up. This park, situated right at the edge of a vineyard, was pretty exceptional. Nevers has nothing like it, since as the city disperses into countryside the outside begins to sprawl a bit with bigger discount stores and wider highways. Nevers has one park, where there are benches and a kiosque (gazebo), but there are no tables, nor is there a pond. Compared to the bustling metropolis of the chef-lieu du département (basically the county seat) which is Nevers, Beaune felt quite quaint. Dans tous les cas (In any case), I'll have to have to faire le marché (go to the market) and have a picnic in Nevers one of these Saturdays so I can compare the experiences.

The rest of the day was spent visiting in Annie's appartement à l'internat (the apartment she has in the boarding school at her lycée) and tasting wine and cheese at the salon de dégustation, and a trip to Sunday Mass in the charming église collégiale (collegiate church). The wine and cheese event was hosted by the students in the BTS in tourism and wine agriculture in Beaune. Although au début (at the beginning) there were lots and lots of people and we ourselves were pretty interested in making the rounds, by the time les halles (the town hall) started clearing out, we were able to converse a bit with the students. They were all very friendly and were happy to explain to us their course of study, their career goals, and what they liked about Beaune. The general consensus from them was that the town was full of friendly people and had a surprisingly active night scene. This compared with the Nevers students was nothing short of incroyable (unbelievable). My students are very friendly with me, but they all seem to be a bit down about their studies and they certainly are unenthused by Nevers. They always tell me there's nothing to do here, and yet they have no motivation to travel. And yet something about the étudiants (students) in Beaune put me a bit off. They were maybe too enthusiastic? I guess the ones I met had chosen their discipline well-- they really wanted to make me have a good time during my visit!

Otherwise, to live up to its reputation as a tourist destination, the town must invest a considerable amount of money in its maintenance. As I explained to a couple of people, the town is so clean it's distracting. Instead of noticing its charming architecture, the people who se promenent (stroll) in the streets, or the beauty of the surrounding countryside, I was fascinated by the propreté (cleanliness). Of course, the mystery of little passageways, the splendor of the wide views of the valley from the ramparts (old city walls) and the simplicity of the vines climbing the old stone buildings was all charming, but there was something too nice about Beaune, too polished, too Disneyworld. French country towns are already so nice, what's the reason for inserting a restaurant with dinners at 80 euros minus the wine? Beaune seemed to me personally like a gilded lilly. And yet, when I got of the train at la gare in Nevers, I can't say I felt like I was returning chez moi (home). I think that the grounded community in Nevers, even if it takes a while to really get used to it, me plaît (pleases me) a bit more than the superficiality of Beaune. Beaune is nice to visit, but I think I'll take my time to continue exploring my Nevers land.

Old and Young

Before taking off toward Nevers, I spent some scattered moments at the end of the summer researching the ville that I would be calling home for the next année scolaire (school year, the way I refer to the amount of time I'll be in Nevers when various French people ask). One of the things I remarked in even the most cursory search of the wikipedia page about Nevers--both the English and French articles, which carry marked differences-- is the declining population. Since the 1970s, Nevers has lost about 5,000 inhabitants. This number represents one-ninth of the population at the beginning of that decade, which was around 45,000 habitants. Although this decreasing population curve was noted in the articles clearly enough, neither article proposed a hypothesis as to pourquoi (why) this might be the case.

Preparing, then, for a town deprived of vitality with a diminishing view of self, I set off to explore my Never(s) Never(s) Land. Upon my arrival, however, I found the town to be full of young people. Furthermore, the copious posters affichés partout (hanging everywhere) are the external markers of a large investment of energy in the life of the community. So why, then, the baisse de population (decrease in population)?

It turns out that Nevers, contrary to Gainesville, Florida where I grew up, is not a ville universitaire (college town). In Nevers there is an engineering school and a fac de droit (law school), the second of which has students for the first three years of an undergraduate-level law program. Otherwise, we have high schools such as the one where I teach, where l'Education National (the public education system) offers 2-year degrees called BTS, Brevet de Techniciens Supérieur, more or less the equivalent of an AA degree at a Community College. These degrees are highly specialized and geared toward specific professional formation. Lycée Raoul Follereau offers BTS in "assistant de manager," computer science, finance, and accounting. Many of the students leave the town for a 6-week long stage (internship) to get hands-on experience in their fields. And once they finish, they feel competent to search for jobs là où il y en a (where there are some).

With a vacuum of higher education and no possibility for intellectual or very profitable work, Nevers is not an attractive place for the large majority of 20-somethings. They all leave to do their studies in Paris, Dijon, or Clarmont-Ferrand, all cities with many more educational possibilities including more variety and prestige. Although it often seems that the youth of France is overly dependent upon their parents and lack life organizational skills, in Nevers this is not so much the case. All of the teachers I know whose children are college-aged, including ma chère Françoise, say that their kids have left the house and are leading exciting lives elsewhere. Although the kids claim they miss home and the comforts their parents provide, for practical reasons they don't end up coming home much during school, and once graduated, they often decide to move elsewhere and pursue the life they envisioned while studying. It's a common enough phenomenon in the US, and one that has brought Nevers to a population creux (dip).

Now, since the 20- and 30-somethings have moved to more exciting and branchés (connected) cities, the population of Nevers is left with the extremes of the demographic range: school-aged children and their 50-something parents and grandparents from one generation removed. The age gap is present in the two chorales (choirs) in which I sing: the one at the Conservatory and the one at Church. The Conservatory choir is made up of about 40 people, three of us in our twenties and the rest over the age of fifty. As far as the demographics of the Church choir go, that's another story.

The first night I went to rehearsal was also my first day teaching at the lycée. After classes, I called the choir director to let her know I was new and I'd be coming for the first time that night. She was audibly ravie (excited), repeating "qu'est-ce que ça va faire du bien d'avoir des jeunes!" (what good it will do to have some young people!) In preparing to head to rehearsal, I bet Ryan that I would be the youngest person there by 30 years. When rehearsal began and I looked around the room, I realized I had lost my bet. I was the youngest by about 50 years. All of the parish elders convened to sing songs that, while in French, were unlike anything I had ever heard in a French church. Far from the austere, arhythmic, grave refrains intoned by a solitary cantor, these were contemporary hymns with life, four-part harmony, and uplifting lyrics. The group was sympathique (nice) and acceuillant (welcoming), even if the woman sitting next to me (Danielle), who was wearing red high-heeled shoes, told me it wasn't worth introducing myself to her since she no longer had any memory for people's names. By the end of the répétition (rehearsal), one of the women had dozed off and her neighbor had to gently wake her up before we sang Notre Père (Our Father).

Leaving the rehearsal on my bike tauntingly branded "Le Jeune" ("The Young One"), I thought, "ce sera une année de basculations entre les jeunes et les vieux" ("this will be a year of tossing back and forth between the young and the old"). So far, that's been the case. Both young and old are friendly in Nevers, but so far the only real peers I've found are my fellow assistants. It seems that La recherche du temps perdu (The search for lost time) will not be the only theme of this year in France. No, it will be juxtaposed with La quête du temps futur (The quest for future time) and just might turn out to be Le temps pour tout faire (the time to do everything). After all, il n'y a pas temps comme le présent (there's no time like the present)!

Une ville collineuse

So Nevers isn't situated like a typical French city, at least as far as I learned about French cities in geography class. According to my teachers, most important and successful French cities are modeled in the same layout as Paris: they follow a circular pattern through the middle of which a river flows. This layout privileges transportation of goods and people, and puts the central source of water within easy reach of the whole population. In Nevers, however, because of a small hill on one side of the river, la Loire, only a very small part of the city conglomeration stradles the river. The centre ville (center of town) seems to radiate more from the Cathedral, which sits on top of the hill. The Cathedral, a two- part construction (one part dates to the Tenth Century and the other to the Sixteenth Century), finds itself at the heart of the city, right next door to the Palais ducal and a really stunning lawn and park. In any case, for me to get to the center of town, as I live just to the north of the peripheral boulevard that encircles the centre ville, I usually take my vélo (bike) around the boulevard down to the river and then slip in one of the side streets to the centre ville.

To explain more about a typical French town, much like Paris, many towns at one time had medieval murs (walls) to protect their inhabitants. As the murs became ruins, they fell and disappeared for the most part, but the development of towns is still strongly marked by their presence. In the mid-twentieth century, many towns connected their roads to State highways, following the outline of the old murs and ending up with convenient boulevards (wide avenues suitable for flowing traffic). That way, French cities generally have marked differences. The first of these is generally a mix of everything from sixteenth-century brick and wood houses to nineteenth-century Napoléon III design. The latter of the two is characterized by a sadder, less romantic and more utilitarian aesthetic. Furthermore, the center of town usually privileges foot traffic, whereas the exterior, much like many American cities, is made more sprawling by the combination of the desire for more personal family space and the convenience presented by the voiture (car).

As far as my placement in Nevers is concerned, the high school where I work, Lycée Raoul Follereau, is to the exterior of the boulevards, directly to the north. Françoise lives just to the east of the high school, so I spend my day time on this exterior section, and then go in to the centre ville if I need something from somewhere other than la banque, la poste, or le supermarché. Whether on foot or vélo (bike), I have a couple of different paths to choose from when heading in the direction of centre ville. Going à pied (on foot), I prefer to take a sinuous route through residential neighborhoods, as I rather like spying on people's jardins (gardens). A l'inverse (Conversely), when I take my bike, I tend to follow the major roads, as the chemin (path) is much more direct. Furthermore, the major roads have plenty of rondpoints (roundabouts), which are too fun to whiz through on two wheels. If I'm on foot, it takes me about 30 minutes to get to the Cathédrale, whereas on bike I'm there in closer to ten minutes.

The title of this post, "Une ville collineuse," means "A hilly city." As I was explaining in the beginning of the post, the Cathédrale sits atop a hill. There is one very famous street that leads directly to the side door, which climbs this steep hill all at once. There is also, however, just à côté (next to) this street, a large staircase that takes one from the bottom of the hill to the top. Having taken both paths on bike, I must confess I find the stairs more manageable, although there's something about the street, with its multiple antique shops and its nursery school, that is also quite charming. From this high point on the north side of the Loire, Nevers gains not only two picturesque inclines but also a beautiful park opposing the Palais ducal (The Ducal Palace, where lots of administrative offices are held) with an overview of the river valley.The centre ville is characterized without a doubt by this unique topography.

This hill in the town center is not the only hill in Nevers, however. Leading outside of the centre ville to the North, near my house, is another considerable rise in elevation. The town has chosen this high point as the site for its communal cimitière (cemetary). I can pass by it on my way home if I like, although its overly large superficie (surface area) is a bit overwhelming, so I think the one time I looked at it will suffice for a while. The other consequence of the hill to the north of the city is a great expenditure of energy at the end of a bike ride home. Françoise told me that she doesn't monte (climb up) the hill on her bike, she prefers to walk, but I think I'm too stubborn to get off my bike. Each time I take the last turn towards the house, I prepare to use what little force I may have left after a long day to get my way all the way up the incline. It makes for a good endurance builder, I suppose. On the other side of things, it's very exciting to start off a trip to town with a huge incline leading into a careening acceleration.

Alors (so), if you're planning a visit to Nevers any time soon, don't forget to stretch your mollets (calves) and certainly bring a camera to capture the panoramic views depuis la petite colline (from the little hill)!

A très bientôt, mes amours,

Megan

Les courses pratiques

Moving to a new city requires one to faire pleine de petites courses (run many little errands). In Nevers, I have already, as I explained to one friend, encountered all of the rencontres quotidiennes (everyday situations) for which the vocabulary would be presented in a First-Year French textbook. For example, I have already mailed a package at la poste (the post office), fait les courses au supermarché (gone grocery shopping), stopped in at la banque (you guessed it- the bank), gotten a membership at la bibliothèque (the library), and of course grabbed something to eat at la boulangerie (the bakery). All of these things help one settle in, get used to a new city layout, and fill the long days before starting work.

It's funny to do all of these little everyday chores and to y prendre tant de plaisir (find such happiness in them). Obviously no one likes going to the post office, but when I have the time to go in the middle of the afternoon while everyone else in town is at work, I don't have to wait in line. In addition, there is the little joy that comes from having a conversation with someone new. At the post office, I was sending a package to the US, which led the person who was sitting at the window next to mine to ask where I was from. Having taken for granted the fact that she understood I was from the states --why else would anyone in France send a package yonder?-- I replied, "la Floride (Florida)". I expected her reaction to fall on the usual envy that French people typically express when I give this information. Instantly the image of Miami Beach comes to mind, and they think of sun, the ocean, and supermodel Brazilians sauntering the beach in skimpy bikinis. (No, really, I've had this conversation with many a frenchman.) However, the woman did not seem to be interested in my specific hometown but rather in her surprise at the fact that I was american at all. She commented that I didn't have the accent she was accustomed to hearing from other americans. In fact, the woman who was helping me chimed in and complimented me specifically on my pronunciation of Rs. I explained to the women that I had vécu un an (lived for a year) in Toulouse. The three of us then laughed, knowing that my accent, thankfully, was far from the accent toulousain (the accent from Toulouse), which mangles the end of most words and includes a distinct, if french, twang. I sent my package with no problem, and the woman even told me that it should arrive at its destination in less than a week-- wouldn't that be un rêve (a dream)!

One other little tak that I found amusing in the past few days was heading the Conservatoire (the nationalized music school) to ask about singing in a chorus or taking voice lessons. There, la directrice (the director, who happens to be a woman) was very open and friendly and assured me that once the choir's program finishes, at the end of this month around the 25th, she would be in touch with me to give me a spot. We chatted for a while about the differences between the French and American systems of enseignement musical (musical education). In the United States, we are lucky to have a system of schools that, for the most part and for the time being, have integrated music programs. France, en revanche (in contrast), keeps their music separate from their academics, and each town or city has, in general, one conservatoire where students of all levels go to study music through a nationalized curriculum. I explained to the woman that I imagined that if I had been raised in such a system, I may never have pursued music, since my working parents had other things to do than drag me all over town for special classes. I certainly wouldn't have been able to practice music the way I did at Dickinson. Furthermore, the liaison (link) between my performance pursuits and my academic field of study, la musicologie (musicology, or more generally music history) would never have arisen-- at Dickinson I chose my major serendipitously, although definitely not capriciously. De l'autre côté, (on the other hand), I explained, if I had been in France and had begun musical studies at the age that I did in the US, I would have had a better chance to have more career aspirations in the performance realm. Since the promise of a concerted performance track never really presented itself in the conditions I was in, my performance was always more of a hobby than anything else. In any case, we agreed that the systems each have advantages and contraints (limits), and that as long as the population at large has access to music, the society is not at too much risk. La directrice also shared with me her successes in Nevers, which include bringing, only two years ago, the American composer Eric Ewazen (one of my favorite contemporary composers) to the city to coach a performance of his Concerto for Trombone. In all, she was a dame souriante, acceuillante et gentille (smiling, welcoming, nice lady), and I am excited to be able to work with her and benefit from the little conservatory structure.

Sinon, quoi d'autre est-ce que j'ai fait de beau... ? (Otherwise, what other interesting things have I done...?) Ah, yes. Yesterday le papa de Françoise (Françoise's dad) came to visit, as he does once a week, to help out with some little home maintenance things. He is 82 years old and was an engineer and team manager for la SNCF (the nationalized railroad company). Since he retired, he likes to do little projects, and as he lives à 25 kilomètres (25 kilometers away), he likes to spend time with his daughter. Yesterday, among other tasks, he tuned up one of the family's vélos (bikes) for me to use. It's red and a bit short, but I think it'll be just perfect for petites aventures (little adventures). I'm going to test it out this morning before taking a train for Dijon where I will be attending a workshop for all the foreign language assistants in Bourgogne (Burgundy, the region where Nevers, Dijon, and lots of good wine and cheese are from). I don't have any more courses à faire (errands to run) for the moment, although I guess the new issue of the hébdomadaire Courrier International (the weekly newspaper International Courrier) comes out today, so I could pick that up at la presse (the newspaper shop/stand) to have something to read on the train.

Je sors, alors, donc à bientôt ! (Well, I'm going out now, so I'll leave another message soon!)

Gros bisous,

Mégane (At how many of these places did I have to tell someone that my prenom (first name) doesn't have an e? All of them!)