too big

I've come to realize and embrace certain things lately, all of which I intend to return to France and continue to embrace. These are: I'm a big, loud, greasy food loving, bad joke telling, big sunglasses wearing, people watching, sunshine craving, dance partying, style deprived, easily amused American. I have desperately been trying to soak in as many amazing American things while I'm temporarily back home and I think I've been fairly successful. This trip has consisted mostly of eating copious amounts of chips and salsa, ritually changing my sister's desktop background to something hilarrrrrrious I've drawn on ms paint, getting up way too early in order to make the most of every day, taking far too many pictures of cacti (with a sa-weet new camera!) that I normally wouldn't be bothered about, enjoying about three cups of tea a day from a mug that's entirely too large and hanging around the house in my pajamas and new luxury snuggie (yes, I got one for Christmas -- jealous?)

the tree freshly ornamented

It's so silly, three months ago I couldn't wait to get out of this blasted town -- maybe it had something to do with the oppressive heat or the waiting tables or the fact that I was now a college graduate living with my parents... But, man. When I left for France, I was ready to leave, ready for anything. And I was, most importantly, fearless.

Somewhere over the last three months, I lost a lot of that enthusiasm. I'm not really sure what it's to blame; I've put it down to numerous job rejections, living alone, putting up with the french hostility towards foreigners, the problems I've had meeting people, communication issues, general loneliness, etc. but how am I to get it back? I'm no longer dying to get out of this place -- quite the opposite, in fact. I'm finding it difficult to look forward to making meals for myself and my empty apartment.

deliciously warm fire. crucial? maybe not. wonderful? ohohoh, yes.

I have a couple theories. The first is that I think there exists a certain type of person in the world who is always wanting the things they can't or don't have. They long for the unattainable and will work tirelessly to get it; however, as soon as they get the things they so desperately want, they no longer desire it. Who knows why -- the grass is always greener? They enjoy the "chase" so to speak? Ah, I'll never know. Perhaps every person is like this, to a certain extent, but I have no real reason to believe this. What I do know is that these people are doomed to never learn from this endless, stupid cycle.

Mom workin' away on the traditional mince pies and lookin' fab

I have this mental image of an episode of Scrubs where J.D. spends the entire time trying to get Elliot to leave her perfect boyfriend Sean (::swoon::) because he wants her back. In the end, she finally does and the as the episode ends, they're together in his apartment. She says to him, "well, you have me, J.D. You finally have me." And it shows J.D., all of sudden looking absolutely terrified, and a voice over of his thoughts scream out, "OH MY GOD, I DON'T WANT HER! I DON'T WANT HER!"

I have to palm-thud my forehead at J.D.'s predictable stupidity. Erugh, I hate predictable television.

I digress. Anyways, my point is, it's something like that. Maybe we convince ourselves we want something so badly, we forget to prepare ourselves for the negative aspects of having it. I do it. I'll own up to it.

the kitty gettin' chummy with my new snuggie. i let it slide... this time...

The second theory is that I guess I wasn't as adventurous as I had planned to be. I think about so many people I knew from University doing crazy amazing things and, because my life had pretty much slowed to a stop, I thought I needed to do something big and crazy and adventurous too. I guess I just wasn't as prepared as I thought I was for it.

palm trees a-swayin'

Frankly, I don't really like either option. But I remember a quote I once heard...

“The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life. Attitude, to me, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, the education, the money, than circumstances, than failure, than successes, than what other people think or say or do... We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude. I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% of how I react to it."

- Some dood

Anyways, I think this dood was onto something. I hope so because it sure gives me more hope than either one of my dumb theories. In the meantime, I guess I'll enjoy as many bean & cheese burritos as my waistline can handle. Which, at this point in the holiday season, isn't really a whole lot more. Yikes.

fresh from the oven

 

douglas with the az sunset

"nous allons trouver une solution"

i wish the world was flat, like the old days,
and i could travel just by folding a map.
no more
          airplanes or
                 speed trains or
                        freeways.


there'd be no                    
                                 
     

                               d i s t a n c e  



that could
hold
us
back.




*     *     *     *     *

Searching for Christmas gifts in Borders, I came across a post secret book on display. Immediately upon opening it, I stumbled onto a secret that could not have spoken more clearly to me at that moment. And right then and there, I sensed everything would be ok.

joyeux noël

"Christmas Party" by The Walkmen


"So Christmas is here again with it's tinsel and lights. The city is covered in snow. At our house, family and friends have gathered tonight to eat, drink and share the holiday cheer. And this December, like Decembers before, we find ourselves reflecting -- contemplating our lives as another chapter comes to a close. So, here I sit at the Christmas party, with a belly full of wine, while the celebration dances around me. And I dream of you. And you're singing to me....

But soon the music will fade, the last of the wine will be poured and the dancing will cease. These old friends will make their way home to sleep a restless sleep as Saint Nick makes his rounds. And by tomorrow afternoon as the last of the wrapping paper is tossed into the fire, this Christmas will be over. Why must it all go by so fast? Santa Claus, this Christmas, don't let these friends go home, don't let the revelry end and don't leave me here alone."

holy merde.

It's... snowing outside. Legitimately snowing. I remember asking my boss on day #1 in Toulouse if it snowed here, to which he confidently replied "no, very rarely."

That's it, I'm outta here.

la meilleur chose

Let's get one thing cleared out of the way before I begin this entry -- I'm a fat kid. A foodie. Someone with a massive, insatiable and seemingly bottomless appetite. Ok, disclaimer done.

Today was one of those days that I have dreamt of having in France. Not so excitingly, I spent the morning teaching lessons and then later went into the city center to get some Christmas shopping done. We all know that after a day of looking around the shops, all you want to do is crash out and enjoy a nice brew -- not to mention the fact that I normally become ravenous after walking around and spending money (particularly when its 42 degrees outside, wahh).

So, I'm on my way home and decide to stop by my bakery, Le Secret du Bon Pain, to pick up a baguette for dinner. I walk inside and say my ritual "bonjour" but there isn't anyone behind the glass. I stand there awkwardly for a few moments, salivating at the tartes aux fraises, when a cheery looking woman turned the corner from the kitchen, carrying in her arms a fresh load of baguettes. She must have noticed my eyes become the size of dinner plates because she looked up and chortled a little bit. I composed myself and asked her, "are they fresh?" to which she responded, "the freshest, and still warm."

I refrained from drooling all over the floor and said, "une baguette quotidienne, s'il vous plait" which is a bigger baguette than I normally get, but how could I not -- it's FRESH FROM THE OVEN, PEOPLE.

She reached over and handed it to me as I gave her my money, the lovely warmth of fresh bread in my hand. I smile big at her and gave an inadvertently english "mair-see!" to which she laughed again and wished me a good evening.

::drool::

Since I hadn't eaten since breakfast and it was nearly 4:30, ravenous would be an understatement; I was practically running home to be sure that the bread wouldn't get cold. I made it about halfway when I took my first bite, still so warm and delicious. By the time I made it up the stairs to my apartment, about a third of it had been eaten. I plopped down on my clic-clac and devoured nearly the entire thing, leaving a disarray of crumbs everywhere, which I have yet to sweep up.

I've lived here nearly three months and spent four months in Aix and in that time, I have ordered many a baguette, always hoping I manage to go during the right times of day, when the bread is the freshest. Not that I really have any complaints about the bread I do get, it's just as nice -- but there is certainly something to be said about really really fresh bread, isn't there?

I have to say, that is one thing that France really kicks everyone's asses in. Sorry, America... At least you have better churros.

"bonne continuation"

In learning a different language, there are often phrases or expressions that one comes across that don't really translate all that well -- I have found a particularly annoying one.

It is "bonne continuation" -- despite having a rather decent understanding of the french language at this point, I still read it and hear in my head "good continuation." Then I immediately think, "wait... good continuation? Stupid." If I were to think of a better way of rephrasing it, I'd say it means "good luck in your continuing efforts." Satisfied with my better and more eloquent translation, I then realize that I'm a complete fool. This is because after processing all that information, I return to the first part of the sentence that "bonne continuation" came from, the part that I haven't misunderstood. It says, "je vous informe que votre candidature n'a pas été retenue." I've just been rejected from another job application and have spent the last three seconds thinking about this stupid phrase which is really just a courteous way of telling me that I'm hopeless.

Sadly, it's not the first time I've read that annoying phrase -- not even the second or third. But such is life and it moves on.

*          *          *          *          *

Anyways, this Saturday I was feeling more like myself so I decided to meander around the giant Christmas market near the Capitole. I'm kicking myself for not having a camera, I wish I could show you how awesome it looks! I wanted to have a mosey around, maybe find a gift or two to bring back with me, perhaps try the famous mulled wine; unfortunately it was absolutely mobbed and I could barely move around in the huge crowd. I resigned myself instead to people watching which was quite entertaining. As festive as it was and as much as I love Christmas (as all my friends and family also seem to have realized), I couldn't help but feel a little sad. I didn't see many other people wandering around by themselves. I felt like to someone watching me, I must look like someone whose friends have left them waiting. Frankly, I would have preferred that to the the truth, which was a loner curiously staring at complete strangers.

I'm excited to go home -- perhaps a little too excited. I hope I'll return after Christmas and have better luck in my continuing search for... whatever it is I'm looking for.

c'est pas la grippe. j'espere.

Mission Avoid Getting Sick in France: FAILED

I'm pretty sure I can blame the whole three hours waiting outside in the cold, but I've progressively been feeling more and more sick since Sunday which is nacho fun. Perhaps it's my poor eating habits... but it's easier to blame the SNCF again so I'm gonna go with that.

Anyways, I stole some pictures so I thought I'd post 'em because it's cold and raining outside and I'm pretty sure I'm not gonna be doing a whole lot today. Enjoy.

  

 We all went on a little walk Saturday morning -- how I miss the ocean!

I was freezing; Lucile's response, "whatever, I'm from the north, man."

                    Our big group -- that blur is Lucile :)

Right before dinner, at 9:30. It had been a rough day up until that point. Y'know, sitting around, drinking and watching the boys cook.

Isaias' world famous flan. Don't ask me how many pieces I ate.

                          After dinner silliness.

In all, it was a fun time and I can't wait to go back during the warmer months!

xoxo bisous.

j'adore mes amis / j'hais le sncf

So, it got sort of depressing in the days leading up to Thanksgiving last week, knowing I wouldn't be able to go home and stupid facebook telling me about everyone who was on their way home to spend the holiday with their families. I'm so grateful that Isaias and his roommates decided to host an amazing Thanksgiving fiesta!

I was planning on driving to Biarritz on Friday with Kat and Kyle (we all planned to celebrate Thanksgiving on Saturday because sadly France does not give people the day off work on Thursday and Friday) but on Wednesday evening, K&K decided that they were going to opt out due to lack of funds. So, I decided to book my train ticket for earlier and managed to find a €40 round-trip ticket from Toulouse to Bayonne and spend Thursday-Sunday with Isaias -- woohoo, right?

You would think -- except the stupid SNCF is always disappointing me (side-note: the SNCF, or Société Nationale des Chemins de Fer is the French National Railway service). It turned out that the train that was meant to go directly from Toulouse to Bayonne had to stop in Pau, a city in-between, because there was a problem with the line or something stupid. So from Pau, I had to get a 2 1/2 hour bus to Bayonne, which really wouldn't have been a big deal if they had bothered to alert their passengers to the fact that they would be arriving nearly three hours later than they anticipated. Instead, they just assumed that everyone was aware of the problem... Ugh, the french.

It wasn't too bad on the way there, it was the way back yesterday that was absolutely miserable. I figured that four days later, the SNCF would have the rail problem sorted out so I decided to take a later train than the one I had originally booked because given that we were celebrating Thanksgiving the night before, I knew I wouldn't want to try to make a 9:30 am train. Instead, I decided to go for the 12:15, so I got the bus from Biarritz and made it to the train station in Bayonne to discover that no, they hadn't resolved the problem. I had to take another bus to Pau and then would have to wait to take the train to Toulouse... but it didn't leave until 5:34. That meant waiting for three hours in Pau. I had no choice but to grit my teeth and bear it, so I had to try not to get too angry about it. I arrived in Pau around 2:30 and sat in the open-aired train station while it was 50 degrees and raining outside for three hours and was nice and frozen by the time they alerted us that the train was to be an hour late. Of course, now I'm beyond peeved -- the only thing I've had to eat were two clementines and a cup of chamomile tea and really really had to pee but the bathrooms were outside and looked less than inviting. All I could do was sit and wait until the train arrived so I got on and decided to wait on the train rather than in the cold station. It was then delayed another 45 minutes after the original hour delay and all the while I was fidgeting in my seat with a book that no longer interested me and a dead ipod. Finally, we left at 7:15 and I spent the whole train ride staring at my phone in a super-human attempt to speed up time which only made things worse. What seemed like several hours later, we arrived in Toulouse at 9:45 to which point I was practically running home. In all, it took me nearly 10 hours to get 300 km. Needless to say, I curse the stupid stupid stupid SNCF. Stupid stupid.

 10 hours. 300 km. Ridicule!

BUT! Despite my miserable journey home, I had such an amazing time! Biarritz is unbelievably gorgeous, it's like southern California but French style. There were tons of little surf shops everywhere that sold things like vans and quiksilver, things which french people normally do not wear. AND, there were Churros. Plus, Isaias can friggin' see the OCEAN from his bedroom. Connard!

Biarritz

Thanksgiving dinner was so much fun, we had fourteen people there, most of whom were from the assistantship program but not necessarily teaching english, making it very interational indeed. We had American (obvs), English, Mexican, Spanish, French, German people there and after a few drinks, we were all singing our national anthems which was hilarious. I'm so so SO glad I decided to spend the holiday there, it would be have been so depressing on my own! And the best part was that all the boys spent the day cooking while us girls sat back, drank and watched them. Ha, it was fabulous.

Anyways, I'm sure pictures will follow at some point (Sorry BH, I still don't have a camera and I'm still waiting on Jean & Alex for photos from Liverpool!) which I intend to steal from Isaias. Hope you all had a good Thanksgiving and I'm excited to see some of you over Christmas! Two weeks! YAY!!!!!!!

muchos besos!

un moment, un amour, un rêve, un rire...

Just a quick update to say that this weekend was a blast with Isaias here -- we mostly did all the same sorts of things we did in Aix... like eat, meander around aimlessly and people watch. We saw a film on Friday called "In the Loop" with the two movie tickets my boss gave me and it was a good laugh. Then on Saturday, we went to Carcassonne, a medieval town about an hour away, with Kat, Kyle and their friend which was cool but very very windy! We also did some good cooking and ate yogurt with muesli and had the most amazing mousse au chocolat, ate lots of brioche and drank proper English brekkie. I wish I had pictures to show you, but that would require me to have a camera... Which may or may not be in my near future. Anyways, I'm so so so pumped for Thanksgiving at Isaias' this weekend. Have I mentioned that already? Oh well. It's gonna be such a blast.

I'll leave you with a song to listen to... I had never heard Lily Allen before I went to England and for whatever reason, I really dug it while I was there. I've been listening some of her stuff lately which I mostly find to be very pop-ish and quite vulgar. Still, this song in particular appeals to the inner Brit in me :)

j'ai bu l'eau sainte, mais elle a goûté la même.

On Saturday, Kat, Kyle and I decided to take a trip to Lourdes which is a holy city about two hours southwest of Toulouse for something different. It was sorta interesting... I think maybe it would have been more meaningful to me if I were somewhat religious, but an interesting trip nonetheless.

In 1858, it is said that the Virgin Mary appeared to a french girl, Bernadette Soubirous, on several occasions in Lourdes inside a cave and, instead of thinking that maybe this teenage girl was just trippin', they all agreed it was for real and declared it a spiritual place of healing. Now this tiny french town of about 15,000 inhabitants gets about 5 million visitors every year of people going for a spiritual pilgrimage. Not saying that I don't believe in divine apparitions... but, um... Whatever, to each his own. 

Anyhoo, there's a giant cathedral there which is pretty modern and therefore really ugly. I'm not sure what it is about modern churches that try to look really old, but it never works. It was just kinda tacky and obscure. Case in point...

Un peu bizarre, non? Well anyways, it was worth the trip though because all over the place, they have these shops fulled with all this religious stuff, including jugs that you can fill up with holy water which I suppose people fill up and bring back to their sickly loved ones back home.

A little funny,  I thought. I decided to try the holy water and filled some up in my water bottle, but it didn't taste any different. But man, those priests must have a whole lot of water to bless!

A sort of strange town, mostly I think because when we went 70% of the town was closed due to it being the off-season. There are so many hotels there, I read that it has the second highest number of hotels in France after Paris and for a town so small, that's a whoooole lotta hotels.

Anyways, Isaias is coming on Thursday for the weekend and I'm PUMPED. Then we're all road tripping to Biarritz for la grand fete d'Thanksgiving la semaine prochaine! Hurray!!

bisous, xoxo.

ya'ahlrigh luv?

I thought I would make the title of this post in English as I just spent the last week in northern England hanging out with my rad Scottish pseudo-godparents. It was a really awesome and extremely necessary escape from France-land!

Anyways, they have this amazingly cozy little house that I've stayed in since I was a child and they're really like my second parents--they treated me so well and it was like being halfway home... Which was really rather depressing to have to leave again and come back to my stupid lonely apartment. But we did some super SUPER sweet things, like going to the Trafford Centre which is basically just a giant English version of an American mall and going to the theatre to see a George Bernard Shaw play. Also went to Primark which is this absolutely absurdly cheap store you can get loads of great clothes in -- I bought two coats, a thick sweater, leggings, tights, socks and a scarf for £50 which is a steal, even with the dollar-pound conversion. But I consider them necessary purchases because damn, it's cold in Europe.

I was also fortunate enough to be in England for Guy Fawkes night ("remember, remember the fifth of November...") which was so awesome. Quick history lesson of the holiday: in a nutshell, England celebrates the fact that in 1603, a Catholic man named Guy Fawkes failed in his attempt to blow up the houses of Parliament in London in protest of the fact that England had recently come under Protestant jurisdiction. His punishment upon getting caught was to be burned at the stake so they have a giant bonfire every year with a Guy Fawkes dummy sitting on top and burn it. Yes, they have a mock human bonfire every year. And this is 2009. God, I love being a citizen to two nations with such an incredibly violent and corrupt history.

ANYWAYS, back to the good parts. Due to the fact that it was raining pretty much the whole time, we didn't know if there would even be any bonfire celebrations but luckily it cleared up in time. So, we went to the Bowdon Cricket Club where they were putting on three sets of firework displays plus a giant bonfire and other fun stuff like a barbeque and candy floss and even a couple little kiddie rides -- the best part of all this was that is was about 38° and the grass was all sludgy and wet. But those Brits, they sure are devoted to their holidays. The fireworks themselves were pretty amazing, most of them were so high up, you had to crane your neck all the way back to see them and they played music to accompany the fireworks. There was a group of young boys, maybe about six or seven, standing right in front of us going absolutely beserk -- I was crying laughing so hard because were playing this song, the same song that Hugh Grant dances to during "Love Actually", and these kids were jumping up and down and shouting (no joke) "we like to boogie! we like to boogie!" I swear, they looked orgasmic, I've never seen children like this before. But with these kids dancing around and "Jump (For My Love)" blasting over the stereo, and cider in hand, I was feeling quite hilariously English.

One of the other highlights was going to Liverpool on Saturday which was really cool, as touristy as it was. We went to Mathew Street which is where The Beatles got their first start and even went into The Cavern where they played their first show. I really wanted to go to Penny Lane but we unfortunately couldn't make it as the rain started to come down heavily at that point. But we headed up to the Liverpool Cathedral where we stumbled upon a Bishop being installed which was actually sorta neat to watch. It's a bit of a grungy, rather dirty city, but full of really cool history. I wish I could have stayed longer... There will be pictures to come at some point.


So it was a wonderful, wonderful holiday and now I'm back to the grind of finding a second-job and figuring out what the heck I'm doing with my life. But hey, Christmas is not too far away now.

grossssssss bisous.

c'est pour les enfants, pas pour les adultes.

So, today is Halloween and I'm fairly certain that everyone over the age of 10 in France probably couldn't give a merde. But I feel sort of sad, missing out on the awesome holiday where I get a sweet excuse to load up on pumpkin spice lattes and, on occasion, experience the only month where Tucson is actually quite enjoyable and pleasant.

the night of candy? pfft, pathetic.

At this moment, I sincerely miss having the opportunity to stroll through the five or so aisles in Target devoted to Halloween. You know all those overpriced gadgets they have for you to decorate a haunted house with? I LOVE that. It's so fun to go through and individually see what each one does... Yes, I am admitting that I miss the commercialized American version of this holiday. Last weekend, we went to the hypermarche just outside the city and in this incredibly enormous store where you can literally buy anything you could possibly want, they had one measly quarter aisle devoted to Halloween. Erugh.

This week I decided to do a small Halloween activity in my classes, despite my teacher insisting that Halloween is just for children in France. I insisted that I was aware but would make it fun -- these people like English and American culture, I thought I would indulge them. Anyways, I decided to do a "finish the story" activity where I started three different stories on three sheets of paper and then in pairs, they each had a few minutes to add a couple sentences to the story before passing them on to the next pair and we spent a few minutes before brainstorming some Halloween related vocabulary to use. It. was. HILARIOUS. I'm obviously not a very mature teacher because I found myself laughing not because the story was funny but because of their cute and silly grammatical errors. I love it. I'm going to share one...

"It was midnight on a dark and stormy night at 32 rue Leon Soulie when an old woman wearing a black cloak appeared through the doors and began to hurry down the road. At the end, she saw... many vampeers at the house of Richard. And she was horrified. A wicked zombie. He cried and spitted blood in her face. 'You're so dirty!' she thought. 'Why you do that?' The vampire opened his arms, and through on her a snake, an horrible snake. After, the wicked zombie became the old woman. The old woman saw her death."

BTW, Richard is my boss and the address is where the class is held. But, how cute and awesome is that? I think they enjoyed doing it too, I even brought along these little electric tea candles and pumpkins my mom sent me in a care package for the atmosphere.

adorable.

Anyways, that is probably going to be the extent to which I'll celebrate Halloween this year. Kind of a bummer, but hey, I'm in France and that's pretty cool too. PLUS, check these out:  

my mom sent these as well. hehe.

Happy Nuit des Bonbons everyone.

j'ai une trouille bleue

Last time I was in France, I had this same experience... Except now, it's proven to be much more unfortunate.

As a result of being across an ocean from my home country, I tend to miss out on things that become hyped up in the media -- things like celebrity gossip (who the eff is "Balloon Boy" and why do I continue to hear about his family?), lots of news that flies under the radar of significance when I read it online, and most importantly, new movies. A few months after I came back from Aix, I went into Blockbuster and didn't recognize a thing on the shelves because everything had come out while I was gone. It was a bummer but also sort of cool watching a movie that I didn't know had been hyped up and not being disappointed because I had no expectations.

This time, however, I seemed to completely miss out. Tonight, Kat, Kyle and I decided to watch a scary movie in the spirit of Halloween -- we didn't know what to choose but I had heard something about this crazy scary movie, perhaps through facebook, perhaps through the grapevine. So when we had to decide on which film to, a-hem, download, I recognized "Paranormal Activity" and thought that if I had somehow heard about it all the way over here, it might be worth a watch.

To put this story into context, I'll let you know that it's currently 3:22 am and I'm sitting in my tiny apartment alone, listening to christmas music and drinking tea with biscuits because that movie frightened me to the point where I was close to tears because I just wanted it to end so badly. Kat told me that if I was too frightened, I could sleep at her place, but after an hour watching a British stand-up comedian to raise our spirits, I felt I could handle being by myself.

And now here I am.

I understand now (from having spoken to Andrew right after I got home) that this film has become so incredibly overly publicized in the states, so you're all probably sitting there, thinking "silly girl, that movie isn't even scary" because when you went to see it, you went in thinking your stomach was going to fall out of your butt with fear and was therefore disappointed or thought it was stupid. But I heard nothing -- and oh my god I was not prepared.

So, dear readers, I thought I would share this lovely story with you as I continue to listen to Michael Buble and Louis Armstrong sing me Christmas carols in the hope that eventually I pass out from fatigue. Better luck next time, I suppose.

"elle croit que tout change, et seule elle a changé."

"She thinks everything changes, and only she has changed."

               - Bernard Joseph Saurin, Épitre sur la vieillesse.

 le sigh.

"l'enfer, c'est les autres"

For this entry, I decided to compile a list of things that I have observed while being here over the past few weeks, most of it was written when I was still without internet. Enjoy.


1. French people and their goddamn need to always be affectionate with their S.O. – Great, I’m so happy that you managed to find someone that you really love, but really? Must you share it with the entire world in the middle of the metro? That floor to ceiling support-pole that you two are hugging between you, the one meant for communal use by everyone on the train, is not only a selfish use of said pole, but your use of it also causes me to uncomfortably knock into the other couple sucking face behind me. Actually, I take it back – I’m no longer happy that you found the love of your life, assholes.

2. That look in their eyes when French people slowly lose patience with you – How many times now have I had to speak to a French person, asking them for help when their eyes start to glaze over, their chin begins to fall and their mouth droops a little bit, as if to say, “am I gonna be stuck listening to you allllll daaaaay?” More than once, this has ended with the person I was trying to communicate with giving up on my behalf and grabbing an English speaking co-worker, to which I’ll generally respond to their questions posed in English back in French. Once, even, the woman I had been talking to originally even had the nerve to tell her colleague right in front of me, in French, “I don’t understand a word she says.” Guess what? I understand you, salope.


3. I just think that this is funny – In my classes last week, I decided to use the same theme in each in order to make it easier, which I decided would be education. In every single class, every single student pronounced the word “study” as “stew-die.” Hilarious.

4. People who pass out flyers /want you to sign their petition: When I first got here, I timidly walked around the streets, trying to figure out my way around, and I noticed that although I was walking amongst a fairly large group, I was always singled out by these people who essentially just want your money. They would come up to me, saying “Madamoiselle, xpenudsa ssrg djspdf siuwpoiu?” and I would stupidly ask, “um, pardon?” And then get myself suckered into 10 minute lecture wherein I would barely understand a word the person has said. And then, the best part is at the end when they realize that I haven’t understood them in the slightest, the priceless look on their faces which often say, “…you’re friggin English, aren’t you?” To which I slink off, saying “desole, desole.” To combat these people, I have taken up the advice of Stephen Clarke, author of the Merde series—which is that if you walk around France acting like you don’t give a shit, people are less inclined to bother you. Seems to be working well for me so far.


5. Slimy greasy men – There are certain activities I don’t like doing by myself; like eating in restaurants or being in a café or going to a movie. (Drinking in a bar alone is up there too, but I haven’t the courage yet to do that despite there being a very interesting looking Irish pub downstairs called, you guessed it, “The Dubliners”.) The worst, by far, is eating alone. Having worked in restaurants for enough time, I see it as an open capitulation to the fact that the person has nobody to eat with. And that is depressing. Therefore, when I’m standing outside a restaurant, looking at the menu or looking at movie times, I don’t want some slimeball jerk asking me why I am by myself. “La plus belle! Qu’est-ce tu fais toute seule ! Prends un café avec moi?” Can’t a girl enjoy a solo movie in peace? Yeah, I’m not happy about being alone either but now I have to go somewhere else to avoid you. Jerk.


As another sidenote, all of this is just meant to be taken lightly; I love France, obviously. Why else would I be here? They sometimes have these little quirks that drive me up the wazoo and it's fun and easy to make mock them sometimes :)

les photos

I wanted to add some photos that I took from my phone but don't feel like writing another long blog entry... so here we go instead...

the sanitation workers went on strike for a few days -- this is what I saw upon getting out of the metro

really... really quite disgusting. in other parts of town, they decided to take full bags of trash and empty them along the sidewalk causing the most retched stink which then caused all the nearby restaurants to close because nobody wanted to eat near stinking garbage.

view of the sunrise from my apartment. (i'll add pictures of the apartment itself once I've stopped rearranging furniture everyday)

 what I did all weekend. mm, love those Prince biscuits.

the only halloween decorations I've seen so far

the canal down the street where lots of runners and bikers go

my english/american friend Kat and I in Albi

it was nice outside

ah, my little love brioche from bannett. can't get enough.

Ohp, la!

As a side note, I wrote this on October 15 because I knew I wasn't going to have access to internet for a few days. So, like the big dork that I am, I wrote it from Word and saved it until now.

I can proudly say that I am currently writing this entry sitting at a clackity old imitation wood desk at my very own apartment in FRANCE! Mm, the sweet smell of address. But I should really tell you the thrilling story of how it happened. OHH, it's exciting.

This apartment might not have been my number one pick when I was on the apartment hunt, but now that I’m here and have added a few personal touches, I’m starting to experience less buyer’s remorse and more a sense of relief. I moved in yesterday at 5:00 and spent an hour or so with the agent doing the inspection for damages that were already here and signing away my life. Or that’s what it felt like. Though it’s really not that permanent because I can move out pretty much whenever I want, as long as I give them a couple weeks notice. And this agency was really accommodating; in fact, all they wanted from me was a copy of my RIB (bank statement) and a photocopy of my passport. Other agencies wanted proof of my parents income, proof of my previous living arrangements, letters of attestation from my boss, letters from my parents in English and in French saying they would act as the guarantors if I didn’t pay plus, THREE WHOLE YEARS worth of rent put into a locked bank account in case I didn’t pay each month – yeah, you can go ahead and shove that up your ass.

Anyways, I moved in yesterday and I immediately needed to buy some essential things, like linens for the clic-clac (sofa bed) because I was teaching class at 8:00 and the shops would be closed by the time I finished. I went to Gallerie Lafayette Maison which is basically like Bed, Bath and Beyond but way more fabulous. For real, I walked in and I was in awe of how well presented everything was which is incredible as I’m not really much into the domestic houseware type crap. They were having a huge sale (thank goodness for me) so I bought everything I needed using the dimensions that the agent gave me because God knows I don’t understand the metric system. Only to return home to discover that nothing fit. P-u-t-a-i-n.

So, cut to me panicking for about ten minutes, stretching the fitted sheet as far as it would go in each direction with no luck and then realizing I had five minutes to get to the school – though, it’s alright because now I’m only just around the corner. When I get there, I explained to my boss what had happened and he was kind enough to lend me a couple sheets to sleep on and I’d have to return to the store the next day to exchange all the stuff I bought. Which I did, and now, needless to say, everything is fine. But the French have this weird system for bed linens that makes absolutely no sense. My bed is 140X190—so I thought that meant everything I needed would fall under the same category, much like for a double bed, you buy double sized sheets and a double sized duvet. Ah non non, mes cheris. For a 140X190 sized bed, you must buy a fitted sheet of a different size, then sheet of another different size, etc etc (which, of course, a fitted sheet is a different size than a regular sheet – but there I was in my American everything-is-straightforward mindset) and of course, everything was wrong. Stupid.

So, I come back from class with only couple sheets to sleep under because I intended to return everything I bought. But wouldn’t you know that on the night I only have a sheet to sleep on, it suddenly becomes winter? I’m not kidding around, here. It’s been about 20 degrees during the day the past week and I’ve been wearing sleeveless shirts and light sweaters. But wow. Apparently, the temperature got to about 7 degrees centigrade which is pretty damn cold, especially considering my building has yet to turn on the boiler system so everyone can access the heat. So, I had a miserable first night sleeping in my coat and all of my dirty laundry piled on top of me to keep warm on this little clic-clac in a scary new apartment.

Sigh. I am absolutely certain that in maybe a year or two I will look back on the adventures I have experienced in the last month and get a good laugh out of it. But man, talk about adventure.

Anyways, if any of you lovely friends of mine feel like writing a snail mail letter and then overpaying for postage, just lemme know and I'll send along my address.

A tout! xoxo

"mieux vaut faire, et se repentir, que se repentir, et rien faire"

"You shouldn't give up.
Fight for yourself and
who you are. You've got
to go through the worst
times in life to get the best."

- This weeks postsecret

"mon coeur ne bat plus sans le rythme du tien"

(my heart no longer beats without the rhythm of yours)

- A photo I took in the small village of Albi 

tes boyaux me manquent

This last week has been absolutely nightmare-ish, so I'm sorry that I left my enormous fan base with little detail about what was going on (Andrea, I think you're one of three people that habitually read this. Oh, and hey Butthead and berk-a-lerk). In a nutshell, the apartment hunt has been so unbearably dreadful, I cannot even stand it anymore. I don't even want to go into detail about how much it absolutely sucks trying to find an apartment in a country that is completely unwilling to deal with foreigners -- it doesn't even help that I'm technically "European" anyways (with my British passport). So, needless to say, I am still homeless. But most certainly not from lack of trying. At least I have a bank account, I guess.

In other more positive news, I have taught my first three classes this week at the school. They're all adult classes--the first two are pre-intermediate and the other is intermediate level, all of them 8-10 pm. They both take place at the "school" which is really just a small room in the directors house on a round table which fits eight people, but the classes have been about six students each. There is a huge range of ages, from about 20-60 which makes for some great discussion, but so far, I think this job is pretty rad. Everyone is there because they're paying good money to be and a surprising number of them are doing it because they genuinely want to learn English. I only need to spend about half an hour before the class preparing something and all the classes are aimed towards a more discussion based lesson which makes it incredibly easy. This is because, from what my boss has told me, in the French public school system, the kids learn English through reading, writing and memorization and barely learn to speak it at all. So, though they have learned English for many years in school, they are barely able to speak or understand it. This is probably the reason for the Assistantship program (who I still begrudgingly shake my fist at) and the reason why companies like the school I work for have been so successful.

So, then, after an hour and fourty-five minutes, we stop using our materials and I go into the kitchen to prepare for "tea time" which they all love because it is so incredibly British. Then we'll spend the last fifteen minutes having a casual conversation about whatever, sipping on herbal tea (because despite drinking loads of super strong coffee everyday, the French won't have a black tea with 1/4 the amount of caffeine so close to bedtime) and nimbling on biscuits. And all I have to do is speak the language I grew up knowing. Great, right?

Next week, I'll start with a class of little kiddies aged 3-7 which I'm both simultaneously terrified and excited for because the only English I'll be using is "hello" at first. And maybe some primary colors. But man, I hope they're all as cute as Capucine.

Then, I'll have two more private tutor students a few times per week because at the moment, I'm the only native speaker available and most people, understandably, prefer to work with teachers who are native. Which is silly because the other teachers were raised by English/French parents and they technically are native. But I'm not complaining. Cause it means I'm getting some good hours! Hooray!


All I need to do now is get the paperwork sorted and get my status as an "auto-entrepreneuse" established which is, of course, more difficult than it should be. But once it goes through, I bill the company for the amount of hours I have done at the end of each month, then get paid in full -- no taxes taken out initially. Then, at the end of three months, I'll send the government a cheque for about 5-10% of what I have earned. This is a new program Sarkozy established earlier this year for people like me to be able to get on their feet which apparently has been very well-received. And I think it's pretty sweet.

Now, I just need a friggin' place to sleep at night and I'll start to feel more like a human being because as much as I love living out of a suitcase for nearly three weeks... it makes doing laundry difficult. Amongst other things.

putain.

Well...

Things here are officially, absolutely and hopelessly in the merde.




But on the upside, today I swam in the med sea.

Narbonne -- amazing and sunny.

umm, de quoi parlez-vous?

Last night was adventure. I had no idea that French people could have such American tendencies.

The last few days, I've been with my parents -- mostly we've been hanging around pubs and cafes doing what we Robinsons do best. Which is drink, obviously (napping comes in second).

Papa Robinson with a lovely Hoegaarden. Yum.

As we were searching around the Compans Cafarelli area for somewhere to eat dinner after a few drinks at a local brasserie (brewery), we stumbled upon this restaurant called "L'Entrecôte." It was jammed packed inside (which my dad always takes as a good sign) but when I looked at the carte (menu) outside, it was mostly just drinks and apératifs. Nevermind, though! There are tons of people here, it must be good.

We headed inside and an exasperated woman in her mid-fourties in an oversized yellow polo, pencil skirt and kitten heels looked up at us, smiled, and told us to go upstairs to find a table. Which we did. Where another exasperated middle-aged woman in the same outfit led us to our table without any menus. Meanwhile, throughout the restaurant, there were screaming children, the screech of tables and chairs scraping along the floor and noise bouncing off the obnoxious yellow and green plaid wallpaper -- already quite unusual for a french restaurant.

The server came up to our table and said something along the lines of "how would you like it prepared?" To which all three of us looked at each other blankly. "Oh! L'Entrecôte! It's a fixed menu and they're serving steak! Trois mediums," my dad exclaimed. Steak? Hm, haven't had that since I was in France a year and a half ago, but sure. Pourquoi pas? As we sat, we noticed a line forming outside and quite a substantial one at that. I felt like we were at some weird French-American TGIFridays.

Anyways, as we sat, our server brought us mini-salads with raw walnuts on top. And the first thing I noticed was a big nappy bug sitting on top of mine. Yes, somewhat off-putting... But these things happen in restaurants, so I let it slide and just ate around it. Meanwhile, the big table next to us filled with the aforementioned screaming children were starting to get restless. One of the girls was dancing in circles behind my dad's chair and kept bumping into him. Then the mother decided to pick up one of the kids and stand right beside our table. I was having a serious "Sears moment" which, if you don't know what that is... I'm really not sure what to tell you besides saying it's the feeling I get whenever I go into a Sears (read: it's not a positive feeling).

Then she brought our meals. Which was a pile of overly greased steak-frites and a few pieces each of steak in a mustard sauce. I looked around us and everyone was eating the same thing. The fries were not very impressive -- at all. The steak was alright too, but I'm not really the best judge given the whole pseudo-vegetarian thing. By this time, the line outside was already around the corner. Mind you, this is 9:30 pm on a Monday night and there were all these happy french people chomping away at their steak-frites and children screaming and wine being drunk. Am I in the mo-effing twilight zone or something? What is this place?! I'm thinking that the prices must be really good in order for it to be this crowded.

So we finished our meals and the bill came: €60 for three meals plus a small bottle of wine. So, I walked out completely not understanding the appeal of this place... Loud people, crammed little tables, people woofing down food and leaving after 25 minutes, mediocre food quality... I thought this was supposed to be France! Luckily, we headed to a little café near the Capitole afterwards and got a nice little ice cream which was amazing. I felt much better after that.

So, the experience at L'Entrecôte was sorta disappointing. But I know that the french can't be french all the time and even though they won't readily admit it, I know there are certain aspects of American culture that they just eat up. Literally.

la vérité

So, it's been a week now in France. A week. But it feels more like a month. Maybe two. Sometimes I think I'm absolutely insane for doing this. I wonder, did I really hate my life so much that I felt that I needed to put 6,000 miles plus an entire ocean between myself and everyone and everything I know? Of course I didn't, but I think about these kinds of things and what really drove me to this crazy and deluded adventure. I'm not sure how long it will last or how long I'll want it to last. Maybe until this job contract ends in June, maybe later. Maybe much later. Right now those thoughts are daunting and I'm just trying to figure out each day.

Sorry, that was sorta weird.

Yesterday, we had our training session/orientation and all of the new teachers met each other. It was good, I'm still in the process of recruiting children for the young classes but I have two adult classes of intermediate English speakers. They're two hours long on Tuesday and Thursday nights, so that's a good start. Never taught adults, never really taught anything, truth be told, but we'll see how well I can pretend I know what I'm doing. That's how I tend to roll for the most part.

Anyways, so all of the new teachers met and we went out for drinks later which was nice. They're all obviously English speakers though two are French natives and the other girl is originally from Newport Beach (ha) but she's lived in Europe for nearly five or so years. She's quite interesting. I really don't care who I hang out with at this point, as long as I'm not by myself. So, as much I would love to be meeting more French natives, I don't think that will happen for a while.

outdoor concert, only a tiny photo of it.

I know this is the hard part of this adventure, the trying to land on my feet part. This was the part I was dreading most and is, I think, what scares most people out of doing this sort of thing. And for good reasons, too, I've discovered. And I know it will take time to figure everything out, but I'm really just ready to turn a fresh page.

pink buildings as the sun goes down

Anyways, on a different note, the more I discover and see in this city, the more I really am starting to enjoy it. Apparently, because the mayor is so "left" as one of the frenchies put it, there are lots of free things to do all the time. Last night, I waited at the Place du Capitole for everyone and there was this enormous concert going on outside which was completely free. The metro system is only 10 euro per month for anyone under 27 years old (with the card of course) which is an absolute STEAL! All the metro rides you want in an entire month for TEN euro. Crazy. There is also a huge surplus here -- finally, a city that isn't drowning in debt! And the city itself is more liberal in comparison to the rest of France. But it's nice, people here are quite a bit different than they were in Aix, much more casual. Lots of dirty hippies, people wearing (gasp!) flip-flops and shorts and tank tops even.

this made me smile

The sun has been out the past couple days which makes it so much more enjoyable. It got up to 85 on Thursday! I love the cool breeze blowing, the big sunglasses on, Jenny Lewis rocking on my ipod with the cuffed jeans and vans on. So I'm embracing my Americanism a bit -- not all the time, but it's nice to feel more at home at least just in my clothes.

a tout, bisous!

p.s.

yessssssssss....

la ville rose

Toulouse: The pink city.

I arrived here on Sunday evening and as soon as stepped off the train, a cold breeze hit me and I quickly realized that it was going to be colder here than in Paris. So unfair. BUT! At least I get to wear my new coat (which I bought from Buffalo Exchange for $24 -- CHING!)

I'll glaze over the part where I was wandering around the outskirts of the city at night in the rain searching for my hotel. That was sorta dreadful. But the hotel is nice, and it's amazing to sleep in a big bed and have one of those things outside the window that shut out all the light. That means daytime naps. Yessssss...

the view

The interview with the school went well, I guess I'm sorta employed? Ahhhhh.... I'm not sure. It wasn't so much an interview as a "here's what you're going to be doing and you start now." We ended up talking for nearly two hours and I'm into the company and stuff. So, though I haven't exactly said yes, I think I did. The actual job sounds great, but the only problem is that it's extremely part time. And I told him that I was under the impression that there would be more hours available, and he said that I shouldn't worry and that I would find another job without a problem. Um, easier said than done maybe. But he's holding a meeting for the new teachers on Thursday for us all to get to know one another and do introductory stuff. He told me that I should ask the other teachers to introduce me to their other employers to see if they are in need of workers, which I plan to do.

So, for now, I'm doing some publicity for the company, passing out advertisements and stuff -- basically, the more people that I get to enroll, the more classes are held, the more hours I have, the more money I make. If this seems sorta weird and uncertain to you, it's because it is. But my main appeal to this job is the amount of networking that is possible -- you really meet a lot of people and get to know a lot of the locals which is really appealing to me. I would try to explain exactly what the job is, but it's rather complicated and it would be boring for you people to read.

         The park I sat in today while people watching

The city itself seems pretty cool -- it's not too big, but still big enough to have a metro system which is really nice. Granted, there are only two lines (three if you count the SNCF) but still. One thing I have mysteriously noticed here is that I have seen three American college sweatshirts on actual FRENCH people, which is not only weird because they usually do not wear such items (for whatever reasons) but also because two of them were University of Arizona sweatshirts and the other one was for Penn State (and I thought of Mandie, of course). Awesome, but a little strange.

For the most part, I have been wandering around in between passing out flyers, getting off at random metro stops to find myself completely lost and then wander around until I find another one.I found this, which I thought was silly:

 

The movie poster for The Hangover -- in France, it's called "VERY BAD TRIP" which is incredibly hilarious.

I like this city, so far. I just wish it weren't overcast and raining all the time. I'm looking forward to seeing my parents though, they're coming on Sunday.

I'll let you know how this pseudo-employment thing goes, I'm pretty uncertain about it myself. We'll see.

A tout a l'heure! xoxo