I haven't written in 3 months, mostly because I've been caught up with work, traveling, eating and just being too lazy. I've uploaded pictures of my stay in in France for those who are interested and have let those speak for themselves. I'm writing this blog post mostly to vent about the most terrible and comedic final I just endured at the university in Montpellier (Universite Paul Valery UM3 for those who weren't privy to that information).
The class: Grands Defis: Transport, Communication, Energie. Translation: Great Challenges: you can figure out the rest.
I signed up for this class judging it by its name and the level of difficulty, in order to show UNC we're doing "work" and not on vacation you have to take a class(es) with the right level of difficulty arbitrarily defined by some European bureau of universities and the level is arbitrarily chosen by the UNC Study Abroad Office. In France, there is no online registration, not even an organized course catalog, not even much of a course description. Without blinkness or myEDU you can't see if a class should be avoided like the plague. Nothing, all I had to base my decision on was a fancy title and the fact that it fit my schedule. Well, in going along with the theme of everyone of my semesters at UNC, the end of the semester shows just how poorly I had planned at the beginning. From 8am CHEM 101 lab to HIST 127H to LING 101H to Grands Defis, I find myself asking "why the f*** did I choose this class" repeatedly, often out loud as I trudge to the final, every time hoping that some meteorite would miraculously crash down on the stack of finals in the room thus canceling the final. Unfortunately no such meteorite fell from the heavens this morning, just a bit of wind and grey skies, a dreary day to mirror how I felt, how cliché.
Why this class sucks: the professor sits in front of the class and reads off his computer for 2 hours a day, twice a week.
I know right! I'd rather plank for two hours while watching paint dry, at least I'd get more out of it. Listening to a guy read in a monotonous voice is hard enough in English, but forget about it in French. At least in English I could afford to space out for a bit, doodle, text whatever and come back to the lecture at will, not here. If I so much as sneezed, or looked at my watch I'd get lost and never get back into the class. In order to understand even half of what he was saying I would have had to give him my undivided attention for 2 hours, yeah not happening. Also it's a last semester class for people doing a license (major) in geography and as I learned halfway through the semester each class in the major builds on each other. Basically I took a 400 level class with prereqs in the 100s and 200s, a course catalog would have helped. Granted he was not the only professor, he taught the communication and energy part and a different prof taught the transportation part and he was great, he'd interact with us and write stuff on the board, I actually learned from him. Unfortunately, the boring guy handled our final and is responsible for our grades.
Which brings me to the funny part about this class: the final.
I'd make sense to give us an exam that would judge us fairly on everything we learned during the semester. If a class consists of three subjects and the final is our only exam of the semester (yeah forgot to add that) then of course we should all be tested on all three subjects and each student's evaluation should be fair and equal. Yeah I forgot that I'm not at UNC or any other institution where these things matter. Nah, here at UPV the professor can decide what to do for the final on the spot and we're supposed to come prepared for anything he might throw at us. So I don't know why I was surprised when he held up a sign in front of the class at before giving out the finals that said "Sujet 1" (subject 1 in case you were about to pop that into google translate) and said that the first half of the class (alphabetically) would do that subject and the other half sujet 2. Ok cool, this would be great if we would have given us both subjects ahead of time and we could have prepared for one or the other. Yeah that is asking for too much. But, to my amazement he rescinded on the idea and I began to think that maybe he wasn't such a bad guy, maybe I could choose which subject to write about (not that it mattered, I was doomed anyway). But no, again I expected too much. What he did instead was comical on so many proportions. He looks at us and says that he will give us two options, but we don't have a choice and he said so with a big, almost cynical, grin on his face that made most of the class laugh. What played out after that was something straight out of a game show. He called someone down from the audience (us students) to go to the front of the class and pick from two pieces of paper, one that had subject 1 on it and the other that had subject 2 on it. He then proceeded to shuffle them as if there were several choices, taking his time and building the anticipation. He even asked the kid if he was nervous and how he felt, then telling him that pressure was all on him and that his classmates had confidence in him. The kid was picking among two pieces of paper and I felt like I was watching Deal or No Deal, which piece of paper to pick? very hard choice. When it finally gets time to choose the subject, the professor takes the choice out of the kid's hand, literally. The kid is holding both folded papers but before he got a chane to pick the professor takes one from him and gives it to a student sitting in the front row. Essentially these two students became like the models opening the briefcase, they just smiled and unfolded the pieces of paper. The chosen students represented the first half of the class and he picked subject 1.....exactly where we were 10 minutes ago. And so, everyone was given a subject depending on their last name. My half, the first half, had subject 1 and we had to write about oil crises since 1970. I just hope that the professor would have added "and may the odds ever be in your favor."
I knew I was going to do terribly, I had no idea what to write, so I threw a Hail Mary. I went over to the professor and asked, rather pleaded, if I could use my notes, explaining that I was a foreigner but he politely said "non." I ended up writing enough, I'm hoping he grades using the quantity over quality rule. When I finished all that was going through my mind was "F."
As much as I complained and vented in the entry above, I know it's ultimately my fault. Had I learned to take better notes and listen carefully I would have done well. At least it's over.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Monday, January 23, 2012
Handball, Arles and finally some spicy food
Breaking News: All is good in terms of satisfying my taste buds. I found a restaurant called "El Chivito" (Spanish translation: the donkey) here in Montpellier that serves food from Latin America, including some very very hot salsa, fajitas and empanadas I'm salivating just describing it. I've already frequented twice: Tuesday for lunch and Friday for dinner. After having eaten nothing but baguettes, cheese and croissants everyday for lunch since my arrival I was desperately in need of a different flavor and this restaurant gave me just that. I can already tell that the manager (or owner?) of the restaurant, Roman from Uruguay, knows he can expect me there once or twice a week from here on out. Maybe it was my reaction when he said "yes" when I asked him if they served chips and salsa in his establishment. To go along with all the delectable food El Chivito serves some great sangria for a good price.
There is no gym to workout in at the university but I have signed up to play intramural handball at the university on Monday nights. I showed up last Monday expecting to be overwhelmed by all the rules I was not familiar with and overpowered by all the other French students who, for some reason, I thought would all be 6 foot 2 and posses a cannon for an arm. Turns out though that the majority of the class was made up of scrawny kids and I more than held my own in the conditioning drills that proceeded the scrimmage. While I did prove to be a novice at times during the game I did not have an embarrassing moment....except for when I fouled the other team, resulting in a penalty, after which I proceeded to nod my head when the ref gave me an explanation for what I had done even though I had no idea what he said. The hardest part of handball was learning the positions and understanding what my teammates were asking me to do. I don't know, I guess I must've been absent during the handball vocab unit in my high school French class because my comprehension during the games was somewhere around 1 out of every 50 words. I did manage to score a goal so that erases all the bad I did, in my book. I do realize that towards the end of the hour and a half most of the players started to cut me some slack as they started to catch on that I was American. You tell one person and the whole gym knows within 5 minutes. Since Monday I've basically just been watching handball videos on youtube, so yeah next time I play I expect to dominate....or at least learn how to not give away a penalty.
Wednesday, I went to this underground soccer bar type place called "la casa de futbol" with Isabel, Dan and Sara. Barcelona and Real Madrid were playing that night and most places in town were playing the game but for some reason we decided to watch this game in the basement of this convenient store, probably because we thought they'd serve cheap drinks but that was not the case. Despite that description it was a great atmosphere there were a ton of Barcelona and Real Madrid fans there from both France and Spain and the atmosphere was great.
An another note I think I have managed to become a regular at "Le Huit" a bar in the center of the city with some pretty good drink specials, and its also the place where we celebrated my birthday.I showed up there at half time of the Barcelona game and the bartender greats me with a high five and says "didn't see you here yesterday, where've you been?" I didn't expect that, but I hope I can get some preferential VIP treatment me there or something. Probably wishful thinking.
Saturday a group of us went on a day trip to Arles a city with a couple of roman coliseums and famous because Vincent van Gogh painted a cafe there and he was in a mental institute there as well. I'm not big into art history, but that's cool anyway. There was a market where a few of us grabbed some lunch and wine for a very cheap price. It was fun but exhausting, causing me to sleep in for half the day on Sunday.
There is no gym to workout in at the university but I have signed up to play intramural handball at the university on Monday nights. I showed up last Monday expecting to be overwhelmed by all the rules I was not familiar with and overpowered by all the other French students who, for some reason, I thought would all be 6 foot 2 and posses a cannon for an arm. Turns out though that the majority of the class was made up of scrawny kids and I more than held my own in the conditioning drills that proceeded the scrimmage. While I did prove to be a novice at times during the game I did not have an embarrassing moment....except for when I fouled the other team, resulting in a penalty, after which I proceeded to nod my head when the ref gave me an explanation for what I had done even though I had no idea what he said. The hardest part of handball was learning the positions and understanding what my teammates were asking me to do. I don't know, I guess I must've been absent during the handball vocab unit in my high school French class because my comprehension during the games was somewhere around 1 out of every 50 words. I did manage to score a goal so that erases all the bad I did, in my book. I do realize that towards the end of the hour and a half most of the players started to cut me some slack as they started to catch on that I was American. You tell one person and the whole gym knows within 5 minutes. Since Monday I've basically just been watching handball videos on youtube, so yeah next time I play I expect to dominate....or at least learn how to not give away a penalty.
Wednesday, I went to this underground soccer bar type place called "la casa de futbol" with Isabel, Dan and Sara. Barcelona and Real Madrid were playing that night and most places in town were playing the game but for some reason we decided to watch this game in the basement of this convenient store, probably because we thought they'd serve cheap drinks but that was not the case. Despite that description it was a great atmosphere there were a ton of Barcelona and Real Madrid fans there from both France and Spain and the atmosphere was great.
An another note I think I have managed to become a regular at "Le Huit" a bar in the center of the city with some pretty good drink specials, and its also the place where we celebrated my birthday.I showed up there at half time of the Barcelona game and the bartender greats me with a high five and says "didn't see you here yesterday, where've you been?" I didn't expect that, but I hope I can get some preferential VIP treatment me there or something. Probably wishful thinking.
Saturday a group of us went on a day trip to Arles a city with a couple of roman coliseums and famous because Vincent van Gogh painted a cafe there and he was in a mental institute there as well. I'm not big into art history, but that's cool anyway. There was a market where a few of us grabbed some lunch and wine for a very cheap price. It was fun but exhausting, causing me to sleep in for half the day on Sunday.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
First week of class in the books, football and culture shock
To address the latter part of my title: I'm not experience culture shock (I think) I'm just shocked that I cannot find any spicy foods in this country. Being Mexican (half) and having spent the better part of two weeks before my journey to France eating spicy home cooked meals, or at least grabbing a burrito with hot salsa from Chipotle, I allowed myself to go "spice-free" for two weeks. Well, enough is enough, I told myself, so I ventured off in search of a Mexican restaurant or at least some tortilla chips and salsa this past week. What I found was an empty building that used to house a Mexican restaurant (I could stay make out the fainted letters that spelled "Restaurante Mexicano") and small bags of tortilla chips and a jar of "hot" salsa from this Wal-Mat-esque establishment called Geant Casino. The chips were passable as low-grade 99 cent store nachos and the salsa was more sweet than hot. As I've come to learn the French do not like spicy food. I'll try to make the most of it, but there's really nothing much I can do but tell my taste buds sorry and keep eating more cheese. For you Chapel Hill folk, I could really from some Bandido's or Los Pos right now, a postcard from those places might suffice.
I went to another class at UPV called Politique Economique. It was meh, not horrible but not as good as the other classes I've had. It reminded me of my Poli238 classes in that I found myself doing the crossword and sudoku from some newspaper and my Hist127 class in that I could not understand much even when I did pay attention. And it was at 815, which meant I had to leave my place at 7 when it was still mad dark outside and pretty damn cold. Needless to say, I'm not taking that class. I'll stay with my Grand Defis and other Econ class at UPV, or "la fac" which the French use for the word university. Other than that, classes were fine the first week, not much different than UNC. Syllabi, assigning books to read and projects to do.
This past weekend was pretty good. Friday night was spent hanging out with other people in the program. The highlight was the football match (in American: soccer game) I went to with Isabel, Beth and Dan. The match was Montpellier vs Lyon at the Stade de la Mosson. Kickoff was at 9pm, it was late and pretty damn cold but it was worth it. Currently Montpellier is 2nd in the French league and had a chance to go to first place if Paris lost (but they won) and Lyon, currently in fifth, has dominated the French league over the past several years. The 1-nil victory was huge, and the goal, scored in 67th minute, resonated around the stadium. You could feel a huge sigh of relief from the supporters who had been frustrated throughout the night as Montpellier had chance after chance on goal but were unlucky. It was a fun experience, especially since the home side dominated the game. We were sitting around midfield in the second tier, not terrible seats at all. The sections of die-hard supporters, seated on opposite sides of the stadium, for both teams were intense. A tall chain-linked fence, barbed wire and about 50 security personnel separated the Montpellier die-hards from the field. For Lyon, the same except they were also monitored by armed police officers. Football in Europe is legit and dangerous. We arrived at the stadium at the same time that the Lyon fans were being let into the stadium (about 20-15 minutes before kickoff) and we were told to wait for a couple of minutes as they closed the gates to general admission so that the Lyon supporters could be let into the stadium escorted by police officers. Nuts.
Sunday, I did a ton of walking. I got to the city a bit by bike on Saturday, but Sunday I ran to and from the city center in the morning and later in the afternoon I walked there trying to figure out the quickest way home on foot so I can avoid paying 10 euro if I wanna get home after a night out. My bus line stops running at 840pm every night and the bus that is a 15 minute hike form my place stops at 1230 am. Not exactly ideal.
Starting to regret my "I'll wait until I get to France to get a haircut" approach to my last days in the states. I need a haircut now. And whereas I could've gotten one for 15 bucks, tip included, from my regular barber in NY it looks like I might drop upwards of 20 euro on a haircut that may not be exactly what I wanted. Jason, you really thought this through didn't you? Just like you did when you deposited all the cash you had left in your French bank account without having received the ATM card yet. Yea, I did that. I get the card on Monday, no worries. I was just a bit cashless.
I went to another class at UPV called Politique Economique. It was meh, not horrible but not as good as the other classes I've had. It reminded me of my Poli238 classes in that I found myself doing the crossword and sudoku from some newspaper and my Hist127 class in that I could not understand much even when I did pay attention. And it was at 815, which meant I had to leave my place at 7 when it was still mad dark outside and pretty damn cold. Needless to say, I'm not taking that class. I'll stay with my Grand Defis and other Econ class at UPV, or "la fac" which the French use for the word university. Other than that, classes were fine the first week, not much different than UNC. Syllabi, assigning books to read and projects to do.
This past weekend was pretty good. Friday night was spent hanging out with other people in the program. The highlight was the football match (in American: soccer game) I went to with Isabel, Beth and Dan. The match was Montpellier vs Lyon at the Stade de la Mosson. Kickoff was at 9pm, it was late and pretty damn cold but it was worth it. Currently Montpellier is 2nd in the French league and had a chance to go to first place if Paris lost (but they won) and Lyon, currently in fifth, has dominated the French league over the past several years. The 1-nil victory was huge, and the goal, scored in 67th minute, resonated around the stadium. You could feel a huge sigh of relief from the supporters who had been frustrated throughout the night as Montpellier had chance after chance on goal but were unlucky. It was a fun experience, especially since the home side dominated the game. We were sitting around midfield in the second tier, not terrible seats at all. The sections of die-hard supporters, seated on opposite sides of the stadium, for both teams were intense. A tall chain-linked fence, barbed wire and about 50 security personnel separated the Montpellier die-hards from the field. For Lyon, the same except they were also monitored by armed police officers. Football in Europe is legit and dangerous. We arrived at the stadium at the same time that the Lyon fans were being let into the stadium (about 20-15 minutes before kickoff) and we were told to wait for a couple of minutes as they closed the gates to general admission so that the Lyon supporters could be let into the stadium escorted by police officers. Nuts.
Sunday, I did a ton of walking. I got to the city a bit by bike on Saturday, but Sunday I ran to and from the city center in the morning and later in the afternoon I walked there trying to figure out the quickest way home on foot so I can avoid paying 10 euro if I wanna get home after a night out. My bus line stops running at 840pm every night and the bus that is a 15 minute hike form my place stops at 1230 am. Not exactly ideal.
Starting to regret my "I'll wait until I get to France to get a haircut" approach to my last days in the states. I need a haircut now. And whereas I could've gotten one for 15 bucks, tip included, from my regular barber in NY it looks like I might drop upwards of 20 euro on a haircut that may not be exactly what I wanted. Jason, you really thought this through didn't you? Just like you did when you deposited all the cash you had left in your French bank account without having received the ATM card yet. Yea, I did that. I get the card on Monday, no worries. I was just a bit cashless.
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