School Friends Are Cool Friends: My Time As A Language Assistant In France
What it’s like being an American in France during a pandemic.
Lille’s famous Belfry at Place de l’Opera
by Brian Alcamo
With Back-to-School season upon us, I’ve found myself reflecting on what it was like to go back to a high school for the first time since graduating college. This high school wasn’t my alma mater, and it wasn’t even in my home country. The school didn’t have lockers, it didn’t have cheerleaders, and it didn’t have mystery meat hamburgers.
More specifically, I was looking for a redo. A year prior, I had spent a semester in Paris. The experience was less than stellar. Bouts of anxiety and difficulty in navigating an unexpected culture shock translated into me angstily denying myself a proper study abroad experience. I refrained from exploring the country in which I was privileged enough to have an extended stay, and I missed out on so many adventures because I was so caught up in the anguish of being far away from home for the first time. Despite my lackluster time in Paris, I left France with the creeping feeling of unfinished business. TAPIF, I had thought, was the second chance I needed. I would finally have the experience I’d dreamed of having, filled with travel, meaningful surface-level one-off exchanges with strangers (you know the kind), and ample opportunities to practice my French while opening up my worldview. I proudly sent out my application and awaited the results while finishing my final semester of college... until a certain virus knocked the world as we knew it right out of existence.
After a move home, a rushed goodbye to my friends, and a quick foray into the challenges of distance learning (all combined with your typical senioritis), I practically forgot about my application to go to France. “No way would they let us head over there during a global pandemic,” I repeatedly told myself and others. I wanted this to be true, since I wasn’t ready to leave the community I had just re-entered. COVID had turned out to be a strange opportunity to reconnect with my family and my hometown, and I was deep in the fog of familiarity. I spent April, May, and early June wondering if the program would be cancelled before receiving my acceptance letter. Then, against all odds, my opportunity to escape pandemic mundanity arrived in my email inbox with an unseasonably joyous “Felicitations !”
I had been accepted to teach at the secondary school level with the Academie de Lille,
My life from June to early September was also characterized by the anxiety of not knowing whether TAPIF would even pan out.
Despite the rising coronavirus tides and a late-start to the immigration process, TAPIF eventually issued the go-ahead for my visa along with a stipulation stating that I had ample leeway to make it to l'Hexagone. I was allowed to arrive as late as December 31st, 2020, if my visa processing took that long. My wishy-washy decision making process kept me and my loved ones on edge right up until the date I left. No one, including myself, thought I would follow through with it, but there I was, presenting my passport to the AirFrance employee working at check-in. When I got onto the plane, I realized just how lucky I was. The entire back section of Coach on a flight from New York’s JFK to Paris’s Charles de Gaule was completely empty, as if I had the entire airplane to myself. I was alone for the first time since rushedly moving home from college, but I felt a sense of freedom I hadn't felt since graduating high school.
Arriving in Lille–sweaty as can be with two suitcases and horrific breath after wearing an N95 mask for upwards of twelve hours on a plane and then a train–I was quickly elated by the feeling that I had made the right decision. I had taken a risk during a time when taking risks felt all the heavier. I had given myself an opportunity for post-college closure after a cancelled graduation ceremony that made life feel like a foggy false-start. I was able to launch myself when many launchpads were closed until further notice.
The fact that schools were physically open was the reason why I could go to France in the first place. It was also the only way I was able to stay sane during my time in Lille, with almost no other outlets to meet and engage with public life available to me during my stay. School was where I made friends. School was where I could talk, laugh, and be reminded that people existed outside of my computer screen. It kept me tethered to the real world when a combination of increased internet usage and culture shock threatened to completely detach me from reality.
My job as an English teaching assistant meant that I was to work in tandem with teachers’ lessons. I worked at both a lycée (high school) and a collège (middle school).
At the high school, the job typically consisted of me pulling out half a class at a time to give a presentation, have a discussion about American current events, play games, or supplement what a teacher was doing during the main lesson. Sometimes, I would do speaking exercises with the high schoolers to help them prepare for the Examen baccalauréat, which students take throughout their première and terminale years.
During my hours at the middle school, the teachers and I worked together in the same classroom, typically playing games designed to get the students to speak. While the high school was running on a hybrid model, the middle school’s classes were at full capacity and had more or less an unchanged rhythm to the school day. They still had recess–which was of top priority for both teachers and students alike.
In my freetime, I was often alone, but I was rarely lonely. I lived at the high school where I worked, which had dorms available for all of the assistants. The close quarters and confinement policies ensured that we had plenty of time for roommate bonding activities. After the lockdown announcement that came one week after my late arrival, one of my new friends made us lasagna as a way to build morale.
The restrictions in France were tough at times, but I appreciated the fact that there were even restrictions to begin with. I spent my free time writing, walking around, and going to whatever kinds of establishments were open at the time. The types of places that were allowed to be open changed every few weeks, and at times my most exciting excursion would be getting a haircut. Other times, we were able to go to non-essential stores, and I would spend a large portion of my days taking long, winding walks into the Vieux Lille to go window shopping. Since my teacher friends couldn’t just pop by the assistant dorms, we would try to get together for drinks and Sunday lunches when we could, sneaking around and loosely interpreting the rules du jour.
There were periods when life was more free. While I couldn’t spend the every-other-month two-week vacations galavanting through Europe like I dreamed of doing, I could still move around a little bit. I went to Lyon with two friends during the winter break and had the opportunity to go to Paris a handful of times as well. Life maintained some semblance of spontaneity and joie de vivre. Once, my American friend (who had been serendipitously put in the same city as I was) and I got beers to-go and sat down on an empty sidewalk overlooking the Tour Montparnasse.
The people of the north seemed to take COVID-19 rules more seriously. On my weekend trips to Paris, it was easier to find people sneaking out for a clandestine drink in the park. Further south in Lyon, people proudly and openly toted their after-work drinks to the park right after curfew. Up in Lille, the city shut down right at 6 p.m. (or 7, or 8:30, or 9, depending on what week it was).
Despite being in the north of France, which gets a bad rap for having horrible weather, the winter wasn’t as bad as people said it would be. Sometimes it snowed, but mostly the temperature remained above freezing.
Sometimes I wonder what my time would have been like if I had come to France during a "normal" year. I'd like to think it would have been filled with parties, bars, traveling, and other kinds of ephemeral activities that people love to spend money on. Instead, it was filled with long, aimless walks through the same picturesque streets day after day. Lille confiné was not the amusement park I'd been hoping for. Instead of being my playground, Lille was my labyrinth. Week after week, I'd fester and ponder and reflect during my long, ambling walks up Rue Armand Carrel, toward Saint Sauveur, and finally make my way towards Place d'Opera. The city served as a backdrop to the many milestones of growth I accomplished as each new COVID-19 safety measure made my already quiet life there even quieter.
So what's the upside of living in a foreign country during a pandemic? The same as its downside: the quiet. Although painful at times, silence and social retreat can do wonders for someone looking to unwind from a period of heightened extroversion. I did not grow up a Francophile, but every time I go to France, I love it more. The longer I stayed, the more I felt like I was becoming myself. Seeing new places, trying new foods, and doing fun activities is all good and fun, but I believe one of the bigger benefits of traveling is being far enough away from home to let all the noise and expectations and internalized judgements fall away until a person is left with only themselves. So that each step in an undiscovered city is also a step inward.
But eventually we must return home, as I had to do three weeks early when France finally decided to close its schools for a month to avoid the worst of a once-again surging case count. After the announcement to close schools was made, I quickly said goodbye to my friends. I cried in my bedroom with each goodbye, tearful at the thought of not seeing the people who had made my stay worthwhile as I spent the next week packing up. While I was glad I got to experience the feeling of being a detached traveler, I found myself preparing to miss my friends much more so than my solitary walks. I had sought the life of a vagabond, but I had been handed a community.
While my time in the country wasn’t what it could have been if I went during a different year, it was still educational in its own right, and I know I was extremely lucky. Not only because I got to go to France when almost no non-EU citizen was allowed into the country, but also because my post-college plans went largely unscathed by the brunt of the pandemic. And perhaps I’m even luckier, because now I have another perfect excuse to go back for another “redo.”
by Brian Alcamo
With Back-to-School season upon us, I’ve found myself reflecting on what it was like to go back to a high school for the first time since graduating college. This high school wasn’t my alma mater, and it wasn’t even in my home country. The school didn’t have lockers, it didn’t have cheerleaders, and it didn’t have mystery meat hamburgers. A little under a year ago, I made the courageous and foolish decision to move to France right before a new wave of the COVID-19 pandemic. I was given the opportunity through a program called TAPIF (Teaching Assistant Program In France) which I had applied to during my senior year of college back in December 2019, before COVID-19 was making national headlines. At the time, many of my friends were looking for or had already found their first post-college jobs, but I had my sights set on a different kind of experience: I wanted to live in France.
More specifically, I was looking for a redo. A year prior, I had spent a semester in Paris. The experience was less than stellar. Bouts of anxiety and difficulty in navigating an unexpected culture shock translated into me angstily denying myself a proper study abroad experience. I refrained from exploring the country in which I was privileged enough to have an extended stay, and I missed out on so many adventures because I was so caught up in the anguish of being far away from home for the first time. Despite my lackluster time in Paris, I left France with the creeping feeling of unfinished business. TAPIF, I had thought, was the second chance I needed. I would finally have the experience I’d dreamed of having, filled with travel, meaningful surface-level one-off exchanges with strangers (you know the kind), and ample opportunities to practice my French while opening up my worldview. I proudly sent out my application and awaited the results while finishing my final semester of college... until a certain virus knocked the world as we knew it right out of existence.
After a move home, a rushed goodbye to my friends, and a quick foray into the challenges of distance learning (all combined with your typical senioritis), I practically forgot about my application to go to France. “No way would they let us head over there during a global pandemic,” I repeatedly told myself and others. I wanted this to be true, since I wasn’t ready to leave the community I had just re-entered. COVID had turned out to be a strange opportunity to reconnect with my family and my hometown, and I was deep in the fog of familiarity. I spent April, May, and early June wondering if the program would be cancelled before receiving my acceptance letter. Then, against all odds, my opportunity to escape pandemic mundanity arrived in my email inbox with an unseasonably joyous “Felicitations !”
I had been accepted to teach at the secondary school level with the Academie de Lille, located in the extreme north of France, abutting Belgium and, by water, the United Kingdom. The schools I’d potentially be working at were in the best location possible, right outside of the city center. In the months leading up to my given start date, I toiled and tumulted over whether or not to leave the US. “Will it be worth it to go during a pandemic? I’ll miss my family and friends and not even be able to enjoy my time there. What if things lockdown?” My mind swam with what-ifs and worst-cases. Eventually, I began to receive emails from teachers I’d be working with. This communication, filled with humanity and kindness that hadn’t yet been part of the bureaucratic application process, was what kept my interest levels high enough to continue considering while all of the other data around me suggested I stay put.
My life from June to early September was also characterized by the anxiety of not knowing whether TAPIF would even pan out. I had dug my hands even further into my familial ties, relishing in outdoor reunions with childhood friends and my extended bloodline. By September, all of the rumors about a post-summer uptick in coronavirus cases were proving to be true, and I hadn’t yet received the green light to go ahead with the visa process. I felt like I was on call for an international move. I was stressed beyond compare, but a teeny tiny part of me loved to anguish over feeling like a diplomat waiting to be beckoned to a foreign land. At the same time, another teeny tiny part of me was desperate for the program to be cancelled out-right, so that I wouldn’t have to make my first big post-college decision for myself. I craved adventure, spontaneity, and detachment, but I was scared to be lonely, even more so because of pandemic restrictions. I watched the case numbers go up with a twisted sense of silent glee, hoping that the program would be cancelled and my fate would be taken out of my hands, and was nervous when France continued to insist that its schools were remaining open with in-person instruction.
Despite the rising coronavirus tides and a late-start to the immigration process, TAPIF eventually issued the go-ahead for my visa along with a stipulation stating that I had ample leeway to make it to l'Hexagone. I was allowed to arrive as late as December 31st, 2020, if my visa processing took that long. My wishy-washy decision making process kept me and my loved ones on edge right up until the date I left. No one, including myself, thought I would follow through with it, but there I was, presenting my passport to the AirFrance employee working at check-in. When I got onto the plane, I realized just how lucky I was. The entire back section of Coach on a flight from New York’s JFK to Paris’s Charles de Gaule was completely empty, as if I had the entire airplane to myself. I was alone for the first time since rushedly moving home from college, but I felt a sense of freedom I hadn't felt since graduating high school.
The empty airplane on my flight to France.
Arriving in Lille–sweaty as can be with two suitcases and horrific breath after wearing an N95 mask for upwards of twelve hours on a plane and then a train–I was quickly elated by the feeling that I had made the right decision. I had taken a risk during a time when taking risks felt all the heavier. I had given myself an opportunity for post-college closure after a cancelled graduation ceremony that made life feel like a foggy false-start. I was able to launch myself when many launchpads were closed until further notice.
The fact that schools were physically open was the reason why I could go to France in the first place. It was also the only way I was able to stay sane during my time in Lille, with almost no other outlets to meet and engage with public life available to me during my stay. School was where I made friends. School was where I could talk, laugh, and be reminded that people existed outside of my computer screen. It kept me tethered to the real world when a combination of increased internet usage and culture shock threatened to completely detach me from reality.
My job as an English teaching assistant meant that I was to work in tandem with teachers’ lessons. I worked at both a lycée (high school) and a collège (middle school). Regardless of grade level, the goal at both schools was simple: get the students to speak English.
At the high school, the job typically consisted of me pulling out half a class at a time to give a presentation, have a discussion about American current events, play games, or supplement what a teacher was doing during the main lesson. Sometimes, I would do speaking exercises with the high schoolers to help them prepare for the Examen baccalauréat, which students take throughout their premiere and terminale years.
During my hours at the middle school, the teachers and I worked together in the same classroom, typically playing games designed to get the students to speak. While the high school was running on a hybrid model, the middle school’s classes were at full capacity and had more or less an unchanged rhythm to the school day. They still had recess–which was of top priority for both teachers and students alike.
In my freetime, I was often alone, but I was rarely lonely. I lived at the high school where I worked, which had dorms available for all of the assistants. The close quarters and confinement policies ensured that we had plenty of time for roommate bonding activities. After the lockdown announcement that came one week after my late arrival, one of my new friends made us lasagna as a way to build morale. We would usually have drinks on Thursday nights, communing in our tiny windowless kitchen to discuss the week’s events and our cultural differences. Sometimes we would cook together, each of us preparing each other food or snacks from our country of origin. For Thanksgiving, I made them a pecan pie made out of almonds and walnuts because pecans were so hard to find in France.
Lille’s Botanical Gardens or Jardin des Plantes
The restrictions in France were tough at times, but I appreciated the fact that there were even restrictions to begin with. I spent my free time writing, walking around, and going to whatever kinds of establishments were open at the time. The types of places that were allowed to be open changed every few weeks, and at times my most exciting excursion would be getting a haircut. Other times, we were able to go to non-essential stores, and I would spend a large portion of my days taking long, winding walks into the Vieux Lille to go window shopping. Since my teacher friends couldn’t just pop by the assistant dorms, we would try to get together for drinks and Sunday lunches when we could, sneaking around and loosely interpreting the rules du jour.
There were periods when life was more free. While I couldn’t spend the every-other-month two-week vacations galavanting through Europe like I dreamed of doing, I could still move around a little bit. I went to Lyon with two friends during the winter break and had the opportunity to go to Paris a handful of times as well. Life maintained some semblance of spontaneity and joie de vivre. Once, my American friend (who had been serendipitously put in the same city as I was) and I got beers to-go and sat down on an empty sidewalk overlooking the Tour Montparnasse.
The people of the north seemed to take COVID-19 rules more seriously. On my weekend trips to Paris, it was easier to find people sneaking out for a clandestine drink in the park. Further south in Lyon, people proudly and openly toted their after-work drinks to the park right after curfew. Up in Lille, the city shut down right at 6 p.m. (or 7, or 8:30, or 9, depending on what week it was).
Despite being in the north of France, which gets a bad rap for having horrible weather, the winter wasn’t as bad as people said it would be. Sometimes it snowed, but mostly the temperature remained above freezing. I did have to take Vitamin D, because it was only sunny every few days (this wasn’t as depressing as it sounds).
Place de l’Opera in the snow
Sometimes I wonder what my time would have been like if I had come to France during a "normal" year. I'd like to think it would have been filled with parties, bars, traveling, and other kinds of ephemeral activities that people love to spend money on. Instead, it was filled with long, aimless walks through the same picturesque streets day after day. Lille confiné was not the amusement park I'd been hoping for. Instead of being my playground, Lille was my labyrinth. Week after week, I'd fester and ponder and reflect during my long, ambling walks up Rue Armand Carrel, toward Saint Sauveur, and finally make my way towards Place d'Opera. The city served as a backdrop to the many milestones of growth I accomplished as each new COVID-19 safety measure made my already quiet life there even quieter.
So what's the upside of living in a foreign country during a pandemic? The same as its downside: the quiet. Although painful at times, silence and social retreat can do wonders for someone looking to unwind from a period of heightened extroversion. I did not grow up a Francophile, but every time I go to France, I love it more. The longer I stayed, the more I felt like I was becoming myself. Seeing new places, trying new foods, and doing fun activities is all good and fun, but I believe one of the bigger benefits of traveling is being far enough away from home to let all the noise and expectations and internalized judgements fall away until a person is left with only themselves. So that each step in an undiscovered city is also a step inward.
But eventually we must return home, as I had to do three weeks early when France finally decided to close its schools for a month to avoid the worst of a once-again surging case count. After the announcement to close schools was made, I quickly said goodbye to my friends. I cried in my bedroom with each goodbye, tearful at the thought of not seeing the people who had made my stay worthwhile as I spent the next week packing up. While I was glad I got to experience the feeling of being a detached traveler, I found myself preparing to miss my friends much more so than my solitary walks. I had sought the life of a vagabond, but I had been handed a community.
While my time in the country wasn’t what it could have been if I went during a different year, it was still educational in its own right, and I know I was extremely lucky. Not only because I got to go to France when almost no non-EU citizen was allowed into the country, but also because my post-college plans went largely unscathed by the brunt of the pandemic. And perhaps I’m even luckier, because now I have another perfect excuse to go back for another “redo.”
Thanks for Reading!
What do you think of the idea of spending lockdown in a foreign country? Comment below, and be sure to share this post with a friend!
Barreling Across The Atlantic
And you thought Niagara Falls was the it-place for aquatic barrel rides.
Some people enjoy the slower pace of boat travel compared to air travel. However, one French man in particular has decided to take a very primitive approach to cross the Atlantic.
Photo: Facebook - Jean-Jacques Savin
Jean-Jacques Savin set sail from the Canary Islands this past December in what appears to be something straight out of a cartoon - a barrel made of resin-coated plywood. The measurements worked out to 10 feet long and 6.8 feet across.
The 71 year old spent the first 4 months of 2019 inside his barrel, traveling at about 2 mph as he relied entirely on the ocean current to guide his journey with a bit of assistance from JCOMMOPS, an international marine observatory, which provided him with markers to drop off at various parts of the sea to help study ocean currents.
His epic voyage lasted 128 days, and he posted updates via social media to keep interested viewers in the loop about his adventures. He also was sure to bring treats for the various holidays he would miss celebrating on land including a bottle of Sauternes white wine and a block of foie gras for New Year's Eve.
As far as his return track to France? As one may think, he has opted for a simple plane ride to his homeland.
We hope you’ve enjoyed learning how one Frenchman had the adventure of a lifetime Barreling Across The Atlantic! Would you be willing to take on a journey like the one Savin completed? Join the conversation below!
Everything you need to know about traveling to France
Never been to France? This guide will help you navigate your way through one of the world's most popular countries!
Want to travel to France? Let us make planning your trip a little bit easier. Here is everything you need to know about traveling to France, including where you and your family or friends should visit, how to get around each town and across long distances, and helpful phrases that will make communicating during your stay much more pleasant. We have also provided some tips on what to do in case of an emergency or if you get lost during your journey. Use this as a reference guide to your next trip abroad to France!
Where to go
Unsure of where to go and what cities to visit when traveling to France? This could be the biggest challenge of all, as there are so many incredible cities and historic landmarks scattered throughout the country that it would be impossible to grasp the enormity of France in just a short trip. There are plenty of cities to choose from. Some significant ones are Nice, Strasbourg, Bordeaux and Paris. Each of these cities has a charm all it's own. A few popular sites that can be found all around the country are the Eiffel Tower in Paris, the Nimes Roman Monuments, the tallest bridge in the world -- the Millau Bridge that spans the River Tarn, the Étretat Cliffs, the Reims Cathedral and the Palace of Versailles.
How to get around
An important factor in deciding which locations to visit during a trip abroad is determining how to get around. Luckily, France offers a few different options for getting from one place to the next that are efficient for a multitude of circumstances. Whether visitors are traveling cross-country distances in a short period of time, or if they wish to reach a rural location uncharted by railways and planes, or if tourists simply wish to get around town with convenience, there are options for each situation.
Car
The most charming châteaux and country hotels always seem to lie away from the main cities and train stations. Under this circumstance, automobile travel is the best option. Renting a car is a great way to reach the French countrysides, the Normandy beaches, the Loire Valley, the extravagant vineyards and rural Provence. In order to do so, renters must present a passport, a driver's license and a credit card. It is important to review the insurance policies before going through with the car rental, to ensure your liability in case of any accidents. For those accustomed to North American prices, gas prices in France are expensive, averaging at $5.54 USD. However, the smaller the car the less gas you will need for your trip. It is important to recognize the translations for leaded gasoline, avec plomb, and unleaded, sans plomb, and to be aware beforehand that in France, people drive on the right side of the road. Keep this in mind when comfortably making a decision on which mode of transportation to take. When in need of flexibility when traveling, renting a car is the way to go.
Public Transportation
France's world-class public-transport systems are utilized throughout the country's major cities. There are métros, or underground subway systems, in Paris, Lyon, Marseille, Lille and Toulouse, andthere are tramways, or ultramodern light-rail lines, in cities such as Bordeaux, Grenoble, Lille, Lyon, Nancy, Nantes, Nice, Reims, Rouen, Strasbourg, and parts of Paris. This is a great method of transportation for getting around town without much expense or hassle, and for traveling short distances in no time. Travelers have the option of purchasing single tickets, booklets of tickets and all-day passes for a customized metro experience.
Train
When taking a cross-country journey across France, the best way to get from one place to the next is by train. France has the world’s fastest trains on it's tracks, known as Train à Grande Vitesse, or TGVs, which link some 50 French cities, allowing visitors to travel from Paris to just about anywhere else in the country within hours. Trains also have many amenities such as food and snacks on board, comfortable seating and incredible views of the French countryside. For information about tickets, visit here!
What to do in case of emergency
The first thing to do when lost in a foreign country is to stay calm and don't panic. Simply ask the locals for their help and assistance. Let the key phrases below be a helpful guide in finding the way back. Be aware of your surroundings as to not be fooled by pick-pocketers (they are everywhere, especially in tourist-populated areas), and if things get to be quite problematic, contact a police officer. They are there for your help and safety.
Phrases to know
When venturing around a foreign country, it is important to be able to communicate on a basic level, especially in case of an emergency. We have listed a few common phrases that will go a long way in making your visit to France much more pleasant and enjoyable.
Hello/ good day/ good morning, how are you? ----> Bonjour, ça va?
Thank you very much! ----> Merci beaucoup!
How much does it cost? ----> Combien ça coûte?
Do you speak English? ----> Vous parlez anglais?
I speak very little French. ---> Je parle seulement un peu français.
Where can I find the nearest map? ----> Où est la carte la plus proche?
May I have a glass of water? ----> Est-ce que je peux avoir un verre d’eau?
I need help, I feel threatened. ----> Aidez-moi! Je suis menacé(e).
No thank you, I’m just looking for now. ----> Non merci, je regarde.
Where is the ticket window? ----> Où est la vente detickets ?
No/ yes ----> Non/Oui
Where is the restroom? ----> Où sont les toilettes?
Would you please take our picture? ----> Vous pourriez prendre notre photo, s’il vous plait?
Goodbye! ----> Au Revoir!
I hope Everything You Need to Know About Traveling to France will be helpful for your next trip abroad! If you are looking to learn more about French language and culture, make sure to sign up for our new Group Classes at JP Linguistics! Don't forget to tell your friends about Frenchie Fridays so they can receive fun French stories delivered directly to their inboxes - they can sign up HERE.
Merci et à bientôt!
Credit: Frommer.com, pexels.com, wikipedia, Owens and Hugh Llewelyn - Flickr.com
Traveling To France In The Fall
Experience a beautiful country during a beautiful season.
Daydreaming about France again? Us too. With traveling on the mind, we thought to share some interesting tips about what the fall season feels like in France. If you've never been, you should know that large groups of people start gathering for traditional celebrations which only this time of year can bring. Among these celebrations, some favorites are the delicious 'Cider and Chestnut Celebration' in Sauveterre-de-Rouergue, the 'Fête des Sorcières' (the Sorcerers Festival) in Chalindrey, and the 'Fête du Piment' (the Pepper Festival) in Espelette. If you are like us, you just went off and started daydreaming again. Before you go, let us reel you back in with some very fun insights about each of these traditions with 'Traveling to France in the Fall.' Enjoy!
'Fête du Piment' (the Pepper Festival) in Espelette
In late October, over 200,000 people flood the south-western town of Espelette for this spicy daylong event. Honoring the red peppers from this regions, which originated in Mexico AND now belong as the staple in Basque cuisine, farmers sample and sell product during the festival. In addition, visitors can enjoy music, dance, awards ceremonies, eating and drinking.
Image credit: theladybites.co.uk
Image credit: eatingtheworld.blogspot.com
Image credit: curreyer.com
Fête des Sorcières (the Sorcerers Festival) in Chalindrey
The Fête des Sorcières has been held for nearly a century in the north-eastern cities of France, Chalindrey & Rouffach. This celebration is home to a 16th-century witch hunt and the infamous 'Devil's Point' in Fort du Cognelot. The festival focuses on remaining true to its Celtic roots rather than buying into the commercial side of Halloween. However, many guests show up dressed as witches & gobblins, so first-time visitors should beware that this event will likely give them a scare! For fun, there are exhibitions and screenings of scary films and, on the Saturday night of the festival, there is a large dance party. For the young festival-goers, there are face-painters and an election of a Miss Sorcière.
Image credit: observatoire.yagg.com
Image credit: guide.voyages-sncf.com
Image credit: jds.fr
The Cider and Chestnut Celebration in Sauveterre-de-Rouergue
Vivid apple orchards and ancient chestnut trees are what grace the landscape of Sauveterre-de-Rouerge, a city that overlooks the Midi-Pyrénées region in the south of France. In October of each year, fresh apple cider is made and the city center brightens up with lively concerts and food vendors to celebrate the gorgeous atmosphere this town becomes in fall. Located in Ancizan, still in the Midi-Pyrénées, is the Museum of the Cider which allows guests to visit and observe how cider is made and to sample various types of cider. If you enjoy the outdoors and delicious cider, then this month long celebration is for you!
Image credit: www.guide2midipyrenees.com
Image credit: www.guide2midipyrenees.com
While there are many fun and exciting things to experience year-round in France, there is nothing quite like Traveling To France In The Fall! During this time, people come from all over the world to experience the various regions of France and, if you haven't experienced it yet yourself, it's something you should add to your wish list immediately! We hope you enjoyed reading about these unique fall traditions. Don't forget to add your comments and questions in the section below. For more French language and culture, check out our Group Classes & Private Lessons at www.jplinguistics.com. À bientôt!