Greves

On Thursday, there was a big greve. Greve is a word I have come to know well. It means strike. It doesn't function as a verb like strike does though. A strike is un greve, and to be on strike is to be en greve. You can't greve though like you can strike. This time, the teachers (not all of them) were on greve to protest a new proposition concerning substitute teachers. Now, in middle and high school a teacher can't have a substitute unless they're going to be gone for at least 2 weeks. If a teacher is gone, class is cancelled. The government wants to make it mandantory for a teacher's collegues to take their classes instead of hiring a sub. Often other teachers would be happy to take over for another, but they don't want it to be obligatory. Since half the teachers were gone, three of my seven classes were canceled. My four morning classes on Thursdays are fantastic - nice kids, who are smart, attentive and enthusiastic. Since I only take half a class at a time, the half of Gearldine's class that I was supposed to have did in fact show up, along with one from the other half who asked me if he could sit in on my class since Gearldine wasn't there! Two of the four fantastic classes didn't show. In the afternoon my last class of the day (from 430-530) was horrifying. They're fifteen, and although they don't have mean spirits, they're out of control with the disclipine, or rather lack thereof. There's only fifteen of them and a few boys in back were putting gum in each others hair, consequently cutting it out of their hair, and one of them threw a book out the window. It was really great. I needed a cocktail afterwards...

Brest

Ok, get the boob jokes out of the way now...Brest is the furthest West city in France. I decided that I wanted to go somewhere by myself, so I chose Brest. There's a good aquarium there called the Oceanopolis, I was assured that there were penguins, so I figured I couldn't go wrong. It's cheap to go to Brest on the train from St Brieuc (only 15 Euros) so I left on Friday, and got into Brest around 5. Although had made reservation at the youth hostel, didn't have it's address, phone number, or specific location. Consequently decided to walk into town and explore first. Walked down Rue de Siam, the main commercial street, but everything was closed because it was a bank holiday (Armistice Day). Was starting to get tired and cold, so stopped at a hotel to ask directions. Concierge did a 'mappy' (french mapquest) search, and printed walking directions. It would take over an hour on foot. Decided that I needed the exercise anyway and set off. Like Mapquest, Mappy doesn't account for changing street names etc. By about the 2nd direction of 17, it was already not matching up. Wind up back near the train station (which was in fact in the right direction). En route towards train station, rain commences. Near train station, ask for directions again, and am given useful and accurate infomation about which bus to take, as am already drenched. Wait 20 minutes for bus 15, get on, and realize that youth hostel is actually REALLY far, and am thankful that I decided to dispense the euro ten to take the bus. From bustop, walk another quarter mile in rain and find alleged hostel. Walk in, sign in, and am showed my room. For only thirteen euros, got room with 2 sets of bunk beds, table, and sinks with mirror. Put on dry clothes, and decide to take myself out for dinner. The only restaurant nearby is amazing. Eat best scallops EVER with cajun spiced vegetables and grilled artichokes. No longer discouraged by rain, as am now warm and full. Proceed back to hostel for quiet evening of knitting, writing, and going to sleep early. Hopes of meeting other young people shot down by serious lack of guests at hostel.
Day 2
Get up early. Have far too much bread and coffee for breakfast in spirit of trying to get my money's worth. Aquarium doesn't open till 10, so check out Porte de Plaisance (recreational port). Despite complete lack of wind, people who have rented Hobie Cats and wind surfing boards for the day are paddling out into the bay in hopes of not being becalmed. Aquarium is fun. Favorite exhibits are seals and penguins. While not as cool as Monterray Bay or the Shedd, worth the ten euros. Then proceed en bus to center of town to see what's going on there. Go to the chateau (which is also the naval museum) and explore in general a bit. Around 5, decide that due to lack of anything better to do, and lack of anyone with whom to do it, will head back to hostel to shower before dinner and have another early night. En rounte to bustop, eye caught by Irish pub. Due to being cold and having time to kill, stop for a Beamish. Bartender is Irish, and about my dad's age. He's very friendly, and gets me into a conversation with the locals. They ask me about Bush, are relieved to hear that I hate him too (a sane American), and seem to have a morbid fascination with Texas. Another Irish guy, Peter, owns another Irish pub in town. Proceed to next Irish pub, and meet Declin (Irish bartender) and 3 nice Irish girls, as well as Blanca from the Czech Republic. Have nice time and good conversation. Am invited by Peter and Declin to a noontime dinner party the next day with them and some friends.
Day 3
Around noon, am met by Declin who will walk with me to aforementioned dinner party. Seems that we are in charge of collecting participants of said party from tabacs in the area where everyone's having a Sunday morning cocktail. Find out that 2 of the friends, who are hosting the dinner, are professional chefs! Finally arrive at party location, and meet the rest of the group. Declin and Peter are the only Irish lads, the rest are French. Learn much French slang and figure out that Les Brestois end every sentance with 'quoi', which means 'what' (a little bit like the way we use the word 'like') while waiting for first course. First course exquisite - smoked salmon wrapped in leeks, shaped like little gift boxes with an onion based sauce. Second course beautifully presented as well, but not eated by me, as is veal. At 5, bid them all adieu to catch train, and am offered open invitation to return whenever I'd like. Get on train to Rennes.