Enfin, à l'abri

Hello everyone,

I would like to say now that I am very close to being settled in France, though I know I will have spoken too soon. At least I have found a place to live–my clothes are in an armoire, my books on a shelf, my papers scattered on a desk. I have a big room in a house, located in a town called Montigny-lès-Cormeilles, which is in-between Paris and the schools I will be working in. My commute is not as easy as I had imagined when I first moved in, but it will not be too bad. The town is old and pretty, very French, with a bakery, a cafe, and a butcher a short walk away, and an organic grocery a little bit further. The best thing about this place is the rent–300 euros tout compris per month, which is about 100 euros less than my friends who found places in Paris are paying, and that's not including utilities and the cost of added enticements. I have three friends who found places in the heart of Montmartre for fairly cheap, but it would be impossible to live in such a neighborhood and not go out every night to eat, drink coffee, and cultivate one's Parisianism. I will have to save that for the weekends.
I am living with a very mother and her son. The son is my age. We don't have too much in common; his favorite past times seem to be working out, playing video games, and listening to American music. Sometimes we play games together on his Playstation, and we also have been watching soccer together. I think he will be leaving in a week to start training to become a police officer (hopefully I can write a little at some point on the presence of the police in France, which is entirely different and more sinister than that in the U.S.). The mother works from home, and among other things she runs an organization that puts on English plays in elementary schools in the area. She is very friendly, and, though very good at English, she speaks mostly French with me. I hear the mother and son arguing about politics sometimes, though I can't follow along very well. The mother refers to French president Nicholas Sarkozy as 'Le Petit Nicolas', which is a reference to a popular radio program/recent movie in France about an annoying little boy, and she insists that he is as far to the right as a person can be (I wanted to say, 'Connaissez-vous Bush!?').
My room has one big window that I can use to come and go from the house and another on the ceiling above the bed. It was decorated by the daughter that used to live here with amusing posters ('Le Cinquieme Element', MLK's I Have a Dream speech, kung-fu Tweetybird, Mona Lisa smoking a pipe and saying 'Chill Out!', and two Betty Boops holding American flags), and the bedsheets are patterned in pink, yellow, and blue neon stripes that glow through my eyelids every morning when the sun starts to pour in.
Before and after moving in were very busy. I spent the weekend couch surfing in Pontoise, in an apartment on the top of 800 year old ramparts. I had dinner with my host and her friends (we ate cantaloupe with prosciutto, which was surprisingly delicious), and I saw first hand how dizzying a French debate can be, and when it stops being a debate and becomes a real fight. Today, I met with my academie and finally got a sense of what I will be doing and when I will start doing it. More on that later. This Friday night I will be playing ultimate frisbee (!?) in Paris, back again Saturday for Nuit Blanche, and then again for free museum day on Sunday.

Oh yes, and, stay tuned for pictures; I didn't bring the right USB cable, so I will have to find one somewhere. Also, my permanent address is:
18 bis Avenue des Bois
95370 Montigny-lès-Cormeilles, France
and my cellopone number here is 06 69 99 38 82