La Une in English: January 2007

Hello & Goodbye This is a bittersweet month for Dickinson in France. We wish a warm welcome to the new students for the spring semester and are looking forward to going on the Pyrenees excursion with them. Nonetheless, we've had to say goodbye to the students who are leaving us for second semester. Hugs and kisses to Steve, Christina, and above all our translator Stephanie. Thanks to all three for contributing to the program and good luck this semester! We'll miss you. And to the new students, we can't wait to get to know you. --Anna Cumbie, rédactrice Dickinson at FIPA January 23rd marked the 20th International Festival of Audiovisual Programs (FIPA) in Biarritz, France. This festival featured representatives from 36 different countries worldwide and exhibited 239 films in the following categories: Drama, Creative Documentaries, Performing Arts, Short Programs, Series and Serials, Reportages and Current Affairs, Aspects of French Creation and Aspects of European Creation. The festival took place in the heart of Biarritz, in six theaters: the Municipal Casino, the Bellevue, the Colisée, the Cinema Royal, the Mediatheque, and the Gare du midi. This year, four students from the Dickinson in France program were given the opportunity to attend the festival and to put in a week of intensive work on InfoFipa, the festival’s daily newspaper, which was distributed each morning at the entrance to every theater. Working with students in the Master’s in Journalism program of Toulouse’s Institute of Political Science and critics from the Audiovisual division of Le Mirail, the Dickinson program students contributed to the newspaper by translating each issue into an English version. From morning till night every day, the writers spent their time putting together articles that covered the goings-on at FIPA. More specifically, they worked on film critiques, short interviews, news of the festival itself, and brief spotlights on the films being shown each day. Even though they spent most of their time in the editing room, the students certainly had enough time to take advantage of the festival’s offerings; they had the opportunity to see films each day and to frequent interviews with international directors and filmmakers. In translating the articles, the Dickinson in France students realized how delicate the process of translation really is: instead of translating word by word, the objective was to communicate the sense of an article while maintaining the author’s original style at the same time. They learned that to translate well means to understand the ideas expressed in a foreign language but also to have the ability to find similar expressions that conform to the style and sense of one’s native tongue. At any rate, from the opening to the closing ceremonies, FIPA was a memorable and enjoyable experience for all. --Heidi Kim View the issues of InfoFIPA from this year's festival at: l'ESAV au FIPA 2007 Image: Four students from the Dickinson program joined a team of journalism and cinematography students, supervised by Mme Christine Decognier, in Biarritz for the FIPA (International Festival of Audiovisual Programmes) from January 23-28.

Toulouse, Finally A student’s first steps in a city of knowledge, art and culture It was almost noon when I left Carlisle and the weather was beautiful, as far as winter weather goes. The sun, having freed itself from the embrace of a long sleep, strolled majestically throughout its kingdom. I smiled at it and left. My first flight took me from the center of Pennsylvania to Washington, D.C., and a second took me as far as Frankfurt. It was seven a.m. by the time I touched German soil, and the sleep I still hadn’t gotten due to the time change between Uncle Sam’s territory and the Old World decided to make itself known. Eyelids heavy and body weak, I stubbornly resisted its pull, but not for long. I kept on the lookout for a free bench in the airport waiting room, and as soon as I saw one, I snatched it and lay down, curling up like a dog. After that, I don’t remember much. A few hours later I realized that I hadn’t quite reached the end of this episode or, rather, my treasure hunt. Once again I found myself between the sky and the ground, above the clouds that I contemplated dreamily from my window. This time, however, my flight was much shorter. In fact, I was in Toulouse after only two hours. Aptly named La Ville Rose, Toulouse welcomed me with all the promise of a new beginning. First, my family was waiting for me at the airport: Chantal, my host mother, Joanna, my sister, and Renaud, her boyfriend. Nobody could have outdone them in celebrating my arrival and, consequently, making me even happier. On the way home, I couldn’t keep from looking all around me, first at my family and then at the beautiful old buildings we passed along the Canal du Midi. Various in styles, the buildings are, among other things, what make up the charm of Toulouse, once the capital of Aquitaine. At the house, I was happy to find myself in a calm, serene setting that didn’t make me miss home at all. What touched me the most was when my host mother asked me to call her Chantal, and told me I could use “tu” instead of “vous” when speaking to her. Everything combined to put me instantly at ease, and it was the beginning of a nice long conversation. This morning was the beginning of Orientation, which started with a presentation of the Dickinson Center staff and the Dickinson in France program in general. We all got the opportunity to get to know Madame Toux, Gersende, and Laura—women without whom we wouldn’t be here—a little bit better. Afterwards, we were all tested on our knowledge of the language of Molière, given basic information, and finally introduced to French cuisine at a local restaurant where we got to try several different quiches. Lastly, we were given a tour of the Pont des Demoiselles neighborhood by Anal Cumbie, a student who has been in Toulouse since September, before we all left to hunt for cell phones downtown. Today, then, was the beginning of a new experience, the turning of a new page in everyone’s life that will, by May, undoubtedly be covered with beautiful images etched in indelible ink. --Moustapha Minte Au Coin de la Rue Turns Sour Who among us, the students of Dickinson in France, has ever felt like a fat, noisy American? Anyone? If you have, let’s be friends. In Toulouse, from time to time, I get the feeling that I’m actually bigger and noisier than I usually feel. If I see a beautiful French woman who’s particularly well-dressed and perfectly in shape, or if I respond “yes…euh…oui…désolée” when the French baker asks me if I want him to reheat my tomato quiche, I certainly want to disappear into thin air. Saturday night was the quintessential fat, loud American experience. In the middle of exams, Stephanie Roberts turned 21, a birthday that every American our age hears followed by the word “party.” Since we all had yet to write, finish, or, in some cases, start the final papers that were due this week, a nice restaurant was chosen instead of the type of party everyone dreams of before turning 21 themselves. Au Coin de la Rue seems, at first glance, to be a nice, charming little restaurant. However, going there as a party of nine is not as nice. We had to shuffle behind pushed-in chairs to our seats in the corner and then do a sort of contortionist act to fit around the little table that had been set for eight. Needless to say, the room became noticeably smaller with our arrival. Because it was a celebration and not the Dickinson Center, all of the guests spoke in English. No question, then, of trying to blend in with the other diners. Our meal seemed as though it had been taken out of a textbook on French and American stereotypes. While the waiter spoke condescendingly to us each time he came to our table, we made so much noise speaking English that the other customers stared openly at us. Not happy with her 8 € “vegetarian plate,” one of our friends spoke with the manager. This resulted only in the curious, amused whispers and stares from our fellow-customers. Leaving the restaurant at the end of the night, we felt like a sort of traveling act, visiting Toulouse to play the stereotypical Americans and to amuse the French. Yet again I was struck by the absence of a proper translation in French for the word “awkward” and of its ability to describe in one word an entire meal. To be fair, the food wasn’t bad. The waiter wasn’t mean; he was French. The manager was certainly asking too high a price for raw vegetables, but she did offer a side order of potatoes to make up for it. What made us uncomfortable was ourselves, girls who didn’t speak French with the ease of the French and who were used to bigger restaurants. Next time, maybe we’ll have a picnic. --Kitt Squire Cliquez ici pour retourner à la version française.