Nevers has begun to try on spring, and boy does it look good. Of course, it's not sure if it wants to go there quite yet, but maybe with a little coaxing and not too much jinxing, it will stick around.
Le printemps (spring) is arguably the best time to be anywhere in France, not just Nevers. As anywhere, flowers bloom, birds sing, the sun shines, and everyone is happy. Yet the french are particularly adept at setting up tables and chairs dehors sur la terrasse (outside on the patio/terrace). Cafés are filled not with people simply looking for anywhere to go but their own home, but with groups of friends joyously sipping une limonade (lemon-lime soda) or other refreshing boisson (drink). Furthermore, the terrasse is populated not only by the smokers forced outside by the 2008 law prohibiting smoking indoors, but also by people simply looking to enjoy the weather. Springtime opens one's choices on la carte (the menu) away from simply expresso, café au lait et chocolat chaud (espresso, latte, and hot chocolate) to include the lighter, more refreshing and often fizzier offerings such as perrier, orangina et sirop à la menthe (Perrier, Orangina, and mint-flavored syrup diluted into soda water). Cafés in France, as in many European countries, often organize their chairs such that everyone has a view of the street and the passers-by. In Nevers, the nicest terraces ca be found at Café Ag--see previous blog post--, Café Carnot and Café Au Bureau. There may not be a surabondance (overabundance) of terrasses sympathiques (nice terraces), but the ones that exist suffice nicely.
Beyond the tried-and-true yet luxurious terrace of a café, where one is obliged to payer sa consommation (pay for something to eat or drink), France offers something splendid for the spring when il fait beau (the weather is nice): parks! While Americans tend to underestimate parks, finding them either too costly to maintain or only interesting for small children who want to run around, the french demand outdoor spaces that are agréables, propres, bien amménagées, jolies et pleines de plantations (pleasant, clean, well planned out, pretty, and full of plants. There is even a national recognition for parks and gardens that go above and beyond these normally high expectations, called Jardin remarquable (Noteworthy Garden). Parks are the common ground and right of all people. Sure, France may also offer socialized health care, but parks existed well before the social state. Since many french cities have resisted the suburban sprawl that is so common in the US, french homes are often simply apartments that might not have a large yard. Thus, to walk the dog, let the kids out to play, or simply go for a stroll, people tend to head towards public spaces. Whereas Americans prefer to set up a nice playground or fountain in their own residential neighborhoods, keeping the fruits of their own hard work to themselves, the french live in urban communities and demand their municipal and local governments to provide nice spaces dont tout le monde peut profiter (that everyone can enjoy). Park benches are not decorative elements but rather are useful endroits (places) to read the journal (newspaper), write in one's journal intime (diary), or take a short break to have a conversation.
Nevers is dominated by one large, rectangular park, mentioned in the previous post, Parc Roger Salengro. Once a controversial head of the socialist party in France, Monsieur Salengro has been immortalized by a very classical collection of round things: a kiosque (gazebo), a fontaine (fountain) and a manège (carousel). These things are all typical of and indispensable to any french park. The elements of the park that are more unique to Nevers? Two groupings of statues: one lone ours polaire (polar bear) and une famille de cinq sangliers (a family of five wild boars). Why such animals? Do they play some part in local history or interest? No, they were simply the winners of public art contests when the city was searching to imbue the city with public art for contemplation. You've got to use those park benches to think about something, you know. This year, at the beginning of spring, as anywhere in Nevers, one can head to the park to see it dominated by two major sectors of the population: derelict teenagers and quaint octogenarians. My personal favorite thing to do in the park, since I don't like to trainer (hang out) there too long is run laps around the criss-crossing paths, to the bewilderment, I'm sure, of the many people enjoying calmer and less taxing activities-- ones that can be done wearing high heels and without breaking a sweat. I'm sure as the weather continues to get warmer, the park will only continue to host more and more picnics, skateboard competitions and rendezvous amoureux (dates, although it sounds so much more exotic in French).
The other wonderful place to take advantage of an outdoor lifestyle à la française (in the french way) is au bord de la Loire (along the banks of the Loire River). The town, thanks to its medieval heritage, is situated high atop the hill that dominates over the river, not really reaching down to the steep slopes. Many people have complained that the river is not mise en valeur (honnored), since there are no shops, restaurants, or other commercial activity that would draw people to spend time near it. In fact, along much of the Loire the city has created parkings publics (public parking lots) in order to get the cars out of the busy centre ville (city center). Yet there is still much to be appreciated and enjoyed if one only has the time to step out of the more-populated commercial area. All along the Loire are benches, again for sitting, thinking, occasionally taking a nap in the sun, conversing with friends or strangers, and reading the paper. In between the benches are many planted bulb flowers: the jonquils (daffodils) are in bloom now. There is a canoe shack for renting canoes, fishing is legal with a permit, and many pépés (old men, like grandpas) come to a small clearing to jouer aux boules (play a lawnbowling game that resembles bocce). At the outer stretches of the city there is a wooded park area with beautiful shady spots. Since the Loire is not exactly the center of the city, there's no noise but the rushing sounds of a strong current. The two bridges that cross the river, one for trains and the other for cars, certainly add to the 19th-century charm that much of the city exudes. One can imagine, thanks to some cleverly-placed tourist plaques, the artistic retreat that the Dutch painter Jongkind spent in the Hôtel St Louis in the 1860s, which still exists as a restaurant on a busy river-front traffic intersection. Down by the Loire is a great place to see active couples walking their dogs, pushing strollers, going for a run, and enjoying the sun.
What is the downside to all of this urban/pastoral springtime bliss? Personne n'a envie d'aller travailler ! (No one feels like going to work!) Students can be even more tempted than usual to stare out the window or even forget to show up for class. Spring in France is the season with the highest concentration of long weekends, plus students have two two-week long breaks, all as they are preparing for their baccalaureat (high school diploma with nationally standardized exams).
But, for now, to quote some graffiti on a fence at Université de Toulouse II- le Mirail (The Humanities university in Toulouse), "manger sur l'herbe,/ dépechez-vous/ bientôt l'herbe/ mangera sur vous ! -Jacques Prévert (Eat on the grass,/ hurry up/ soon the grass/ will be eating you!- Jacques Prévert). I think it's time for a pique-nique (picnic)!
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Monday, March 15, 2010
Café l'Agricole
The center of Nevers is a somewhat nebulous grouping of the historical landmarks-- la cathédrale and le palais ducal--, the palais de justice (the courthouse), and le parc Roger Salengro (large public park). Joining the first cluster with the large park is a central square called la place Carnot. In this square are a few banks, the Chamber of Commerce, and the marché (market) that happens on Saturday mornings in a covered market space. At the very center of the square is a fairly large café et brasserie (coffee shop and small restaurant) called Café l'Agricole. As it occupies the middle of this square, it joins the old and new sides of Nevers, the renaissance and the romantic. In a town square with two other small cafés, it is still easy to pick out Café Ag, as we call it, marked by a small fountain and some eclectic topiaries. The café becomes the central meeting place not just because of its terrace, but also because it's open until 11pm, it opens on Sunday, and it is the only place other than McDonald's in Nevers that has free wi-fi. At half a kilometer from la gare (the train station), Café Agricole certainly attracts foot traffic, high schoolers, businessmen at midday, and people looking to get out of their house on a Sunday afternoon.
I looked high and low for some of the history of Café Ag. Why would I have thought to do this? Inside the Palais Ducal is a small photography exhibit featuring photos of Nevers around the turn of the century. In these, we can clearly see the Place Carnot and the sign for Café Agricole. So it has existed in some form for at least 100 years, we can suppose. But nothing inside the café, where wi-fi, flat screen TVs, and fancy coffee drinks fill the space, would betray the la signification historique du lieu (the historical importance of the place).
Stuck, thus, in the present, I can but relate some observations about this central hangout of Nevers. First, it doesn't attract any of the town's derelict population. I think the somewhat arrogant waitstaff keeps large dogs away from the café. This waitstaff is not aggressive, just a bit self-important. If a person comes in to wait for a friend to join, it's easy enough to either order something or let the waiter that the friend will arrive shortly. However, once the friend comes, it might be difficult to get the waiter's attention to commander (order). Also, unlike most french cafés, the waiters often ask their customers to régler avant (pay before) they have finished their drinks. Of course, this ensures that, during a busy time, the café doesn't get stiffed, but it is somewhat off-putting. But this isn't meant to be a critique of the café, rather a view of what café life in Nevers can be like.
Café Ag is such a convenient place to meet that it's a hangout for everyone. Françoise's daughter Clémence, who grew up in Nevers and just left this school year to study in Versailles, loves to come back and meet her friends at Café Ag. They all sit outside smoking cigarette after cigarette, their young, french lungs impervious to health defects, or at least defiant of them. For her birthday, her friends all surprised her there, singing loud choruses of joyeux anniversaire. When she wants to go out to dinner but doesn't want to get to the restaurant too early, she heads there to have an apératif (cocktail drink). With my friends, Café Ag is the most central location. Of course, we all consider whether it's entirely worth the 1.10 euro for a café or the 2.20 for a chocolat chaud (hot chocolate), but it is nice, like I said to get out of the house sometimes. Although the ambiance is not that of En Apar-thé-- see blog posts from October-- it is a prime people-watching location. We go to be forgotten, since the loud ambiance covers our English conversation, or to forget some of Nevers, since the dark and obscured windows don't give a very full panorama of the city.
One of my favorite parts of Café Agricole is the way people put themselves on display when they go out. Since Nevers doesn't have much of a club or café "scene" to speak of, Café Ag becomes the de facto place to strut one's stuff. I can remember when it was warm and we'd meet up for evenings on the terrace, and all of the strangers and their awkward ways of approaching us, attempting to get our number, or creatively leaving theirs. I have heard a particularly charming story about a man in a shiny speedo or boxer-briefs parading around, conversing with mixed groups of people he didn't know. In the winter, people are generally more reserved, but the other weekend, we were seated next to a couple that was shamelessly canoodling one another, even turning to us to say Ne soyez pas inquiéts, c'est l'amour ! (Don't worry, it's just love!). People bring their children for outings they haven't coached them for, struggling to keep them seated with their Orangina or hot chocolate. Teenagers play music from their cell phones and get in fights about best friends or boyfriends. For all the candor of the french, the propriety and the concern with which they approach outings in good society, Café Agricole seems to be a place where people feel comfortable enough to forget about all of that, acting more relaxed and more like the way they would act in their own home.
As the place where we go to have candid conversations, confused reflections about life, musings about the future, and un peu de mal de pays (a bit of homesickness), but also the place where we happily unwind after a long week, a long day, or even a long morning of class or life in Nevers, Café Agricole has a place etched in posterity. But then again, it never had a chance to do much else, as it was the first place I knew in Nevers and will proabably be the last place I have a coffee before taking the train away from the cité ducale.
I looked high and low for some of the history of Café Ag. Why would I have thought to do this? Inside the Palais Ducal is a small photography exhibit featuring photos of Nevers around the turn of the century. In these, we can clearly see the Place Carnot and the sign for Café Agricole. So it has existed in some form for at least 100 years, we can suppose. But nothing inside the café, where wi-fi, flat screen TVs, and fancy coffee drinks fill the space, would betray the la signification historique du lieu (the historical importance of the place).
Stuck, thus, in the present, I can but relate some observations about this central hangout of Nevers. First, it doesn't attract any of the town's derelict population. I think the somewhat arrogant waitstaff keeps large dogs away from the café. This waitstaff is not aggressive, just a bit self-important. If a person comes in to wait for a friend to join, it's easy enough to either order something or let the waiter that the friend will arrive shortly. However, once the friend comes, it might be difficult to get the waiter's attention to commander (order). Also, unlike most french cafés, the waiters often ask their customers to régler avant (pay before) they have finished their drinks. Of course, this ensures that, during a busy time, the café doesn't get stiffed, but it is somewhat off-putting. But this isn't meant to be a critique of the café, rather a view of what café life in Nevers can be like.
Café Ag is such a convenient place to meet that it's a hangout for everyone. Françoise's daughter Clémence, who grew up in Nevers and just left this school year to study in Versailles, loves to come back and meet her friends at Café Ag. They all sit outside smoking cigarette after cigarette, their young, french lungs impervious to health defects, or at least defiant of them. For her birthday, her friends all surprised her there, singing loud choruses of joyeux anniversaire. When she wants to go out to dinner but doesn't want to get to the restaurant too early, she heads there to have an apératif (cocktail drink). With my friends, Café Ag is the most central location. Of course, we all consider whether it's entirely worth the 1.10 euro for a café or the 2.20 for a chocolat chaud (hot chocolate), but it is nice, like I said to get out of the house sometimes. Although the ambiance is not that of En Apar-thé-- see blog posts from October-- it is a prime people-watching location. We go to be forgotten, since the loud ambiance covers our English conversation, or to forget some of Nevers, since the dark and obscured windows don't give a very full panorama of the city.
One of my favorite parts of Café Agricole is the way people put themselves on display when they go out. Since Nevers doesn't have much of a club or café "scene" to speak of, Café Ag becomes the de facto place to strut one's stuff. I can remember when it was warm and we'd meet up for evenings on the terrace, and all of the strangers and their awkward ways of approaching us, attempting to get our number, or creatively leaving theirs. I have heard a particularly charming story about a man in a shiny speedo or boxer-briefs parading around, conversing with mixed groups of people he didn't know. In the winter, people are generally more reserved, but the other weekend, we were seated next to a couple that was shamelessly canoodling one another, even turning to us to say Ne soyez pas inquiéts, c'est l'amour ! (Don't worry, it's just love!). People bring their children for outings they haven't coached them for, struggling to keep them seated with their Orangina or hot chocolate. Teenagers play music from their cell phones and get in fights about best friends or boyfriends. For all the candor of the french, the propriety and the concern with which they approach outings in good society, Café Agricole seems to be a place where people feel comfortable enough to forget about all of that, acting more relaxed and more like the way they would act in their own home.
As the place where we go to have candid conversations, confused reflections about life, musings about the future, and un peu de mal de pays (a bit of homesickness), but also the place where we happily unwind after a long week, a long day, or even a long morning of class or life in Nevers, Café Agricole has a place etched in posterity. But then again, it never had a chance to do much else, as it was the first place I knew in Nevers and will proabably be the last place I have a coffee before taking the train away from the cité ducale.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Le mercredi
In France, mercredi is not a day like all the others. This is evidenced by a petite anecdote (little story) from another assistant friend of mine in Nevers, Geby Keenan. Gaby teaches in les écoles primaires (elementary schools). Her goal in these places is to expose little kids to foreign language in general, but to English specifically. English is a new subject in les écoles primaires, and many of the instituteurs (teachers) don't speak English fluently enough to teach it to 6 year-olds-- this should be warning sign number one. Thus, the role of the English assistant in these institutions is key, lest the first exposure kids have to the language be gâché (ruined) by incorrect pronunciation or ridiculous phrases. In any case, Gaby always has amusing stories about how her kids react to her lessons, and these stories can often be revealing about la culture française (french culture).
One day, Gaby is teaching a lesson about cognates, that is words that are the same in French as in English. There are many of these-- I sometimes try to show this in my franglais-- and the exist for many reasons, but the ones that speak most to les enfants (children) are words the French have borrowed from English in the last century. Some of these are sandwich, cookie, star (as in a celebrity), mug (coffee mug), and week-end.
This last word is something sacred for the French. In France, the weekend is not to be disturbed. There is a national myth about the time people spend with their families à table (having a meal), en promenade (going for a walk), and generally pour profiter du temps (taking advantage of the extra time they have). Almost all businesses are closed on Sunday, and even on Saturdays there are more darkened windows than during the week. The week-end has a special place for relaxing and spending time with friends and family. Obviously, then, kids adore the weekend. Their parents are around, they don't have 8 to 10 hours of school each day, and they can either hang around with their friends, or go play sports. Popular sports for children in Nevers are le foot (soccer) le pony (pony club), and handball (handball).
When Gaby asked her students about the weekend, they explained to her that it's like a little vacation during the week. Cute, right? Well, to practice their days of the week, Gaby asked what days the weekend consists of. They replied Saturday, Sunday, and (?) Wednesday. On Wednesday, French children don't go to school. The lycéens (high schoolers) do, but kids under the age of 13 have off on Wednesdays. They only have four days of lessons a week, so of course it seems natural to them that the day they don't go to school is also called the weekend. They missed the part when it's just they who don't work, and that it's not at the fin (end) of the semaine (week). I guess English isn't pervading the French language as profoundly as some linguists have worried it might.
So Wednesdays aren't hump day for french children. They're le week-end. But my favorite thing about le merecredi (Wednesdays) is this: on the first Wendesday of every month, at noon, at every school in France, the emergency alarms sound. This is to test that they work, bien sûr (of course). Forget that it doesn't test if the students and teachers know how to evacuate the school. The important part is that le joli son (the pretty sound) of the alarm is heard loud and clear. Pas de soucis, tout le monde, on est là. Si jamais il y a un accident, les allarmes sonneront ! (No worries, everyone, we're here. If there's ever an accident, the alarms will ring!) If you're ever in France on the first Wednesday of the month, you will not miss midi (noon). You can't help but be somewhere where the alarms are audible, since every school has them. And if you've forgotten to change your calendar, today you'll remember to do so.
This year, I happen to not work on Wednesdays. This is great, since, unlike the real weekend, everything is open as usual, so I can get both important and frivolous errands done. Vive le mercredi !
One day, Gaby is teaching a lesson about cognates, that is words that are the same in French as in English. There are many of these-- I sometimes try to show this in my franglais-- and the exist for many reasons, but the ones that speak most to les enfants (children) are words the French have borrowed from English in the last century. Some of these are sandwich, cookie, star (as in a celebrity), mug (coffee mug), and week-end.
This last word is something sacred for the French. In France, the weekend is not to be disturbed. There is a national myth about the time people spend with their families à table (having a meal), en promenade (going for a walk), and generally pour profiter du temps (taking advantage of the extra time they have). Almost all businesses are closed on Sunday, and even on Saturdays there are more darkened windows than during the week. The week-end has a special place for relaxing and spending time with friends and family. Obviously, then, kids adore the weekend. Their parents are around, they don't have 8 to 10 hours of school each day, and they can either hang around with their friends, or go play sports. Popular sports for children in Nevers are le foot (soccer) le pony (pony club), and handball (handball).
When Gaby asked her students about the weekend, they explained to her that it's like a little vacation during the week. Cute, right? Well, to practice their days of the week, Gaby asked what days the weekend consists of. They replied Saturday, Sunday, and (?) Wednesday. On Wednesday, French children don't go to school. The lycéens (high schoolers) do, but kids under the age of 13 have off on Wednesdays. They only have four days of lessons a week, so of course it seems natural to them that the day they don't go to school is also called the weekend. They missed the part when it's just they who don't work, and that it's not at the fin (end) of the semaine (week). I guess English isn't pervading the French language as profoundly as some linguists have worried it might.
So Wednesdays aren't hump day for french children. They're le week-end. But my favorite thing about le merecredi (Wednesdays) is this: on the first Wendesday of every month, at noon, at every school in France, the emergency alarms sound. This is to test that they work, bien sûr (of course). Forget that it doesn't test if the students and teachers know how to evacuate the school. The important part is that le joli son (the pretty sound) of the alarm is heard loud and clear. Pas de soucis, tout le monde, on est là. Si jamais il y a un accident, les allarmes sonneront ! (No worries, everyone, we're here. If there's ever an accident, the alarms will ring!) If you're ever in France on the first Wednesday of the month, you will not miss midi (noon). You can't help but be somewhere where the alarms are audible, since every school has them. And if you've forgotten to change your calendar, today you'll remember to do so.
This year, I happen to not work on Wednesdays. This is great, since, unlike the real weekend, everything is open as usual, so I can get both important and frivolous errands done. Vive le mercredi !
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