When I got to france, host dad told me thy I needed to always have a book on the metro and that I shouldn't make eye contact with anyone. Sometimes I forget my book & I want to recount the various awkward encounters I've had thus far. I've got some gems.
The singing accordion player
Very often, people play instruments on the metro and people give them a little bit of money if they play well. There is one accordion player who is constantly on line 3 and we keep having extremely awkward run in's. This one particular evening he stopped playing his song and in front of the entire metro car, told me I was the most beautiful person he has ever seen. People clapped. It was uncomfortable. Every time I have seen him afterwards he has winked at me.
The hop-off
Also on line 3, a man got on the metro and sat directly across from me. He was humming and singing to himself but wasn't threatening in the least. He asked if I had a tissue, I did not (bad Au Pair) he asked several other people, eventually found one and then went back to humming his song. It came time for me to get off the metro and switch lines so I got off. As I walked through the metro station I heard a "mademoiselle!!!" and turned around to see this guy had hopped off the metro and run after me, I assumed I dropped something and stopped. He proceeded to invite me to get a coffee and told me I was really pretty and he would have regretted the chance not to at least invite me for coffee. I politely said no thank you but that it was really sweet, he wished me a wonderful night and then went to wait for the next train.
Let's get married
Staying out until 6am is always awful. It's so exhausting and taking the train in the morning is rough because there are rowdy drunk people, so you never go alone. This time, Katherine and I were taking the metro back and an extremely drunk guy heard us speaking English, and told me he really wants to live in the United States one day and proceeded to propose to me and then introduce me to the entire train as his woman. He was not bad looking. Should have let that one ride.
Naked homeless
This happened just the other night, I was sitting on the 1 and a man gets on the metro with his guitar case and he is just talking a mile a minute. I understand exactly nothing of what he is saying but immediately realize he is homeless. He sits across from a really pretty blonde girl and starts waving at her and trying to get her attention. All of the sudden he lifts up his shirt and shows her his stomach. Everyone is horrified. He then unbuttons his shirt and flashes his whole chest and everyone. Literally speechless. He then sat on the metro and played his guitar the rest of the ride. It was weird.
Lesbian dance party
Waiting for the metro one night and it finally pulls up in front of me. I should have known better when I saw people dancing on the car I got onto but I just assumed this was a rowdy group of French people who would mind their own business. Not true. I sit down and am unnoticed for several minutes, enough to get a good look at the situation. It's a group of 7 people, 2 girls dressed really fancy with short skirts and hiiiigh heels, one girl with super short hair, a sports bra and these weird pants that I can only describe as short parachute pants, then the rest were guys dressed pretty scuzzily. They had these homemade instruments that were like big sticks with strings and looked African? All of this is completely surreal to me. They are dancing and shouting and the girl with the weird pants is doing hand stands and swinging from the handle bars. I consider getting off and switching compartments when one of the guys spots me. I knew immediately I was in for it. He comes up and serenades me in a language that I didn't recognize and then dances around me. He tries to take my hand and kiss it but the girl in the weird pants intercepts him and does it herself. The two of them proceed to dance literally on top of me even though I kept saying "arrêtez s'il vous plaît" and then the girl tells me she loves me and the entire group got off the train and went about their way. Um...what?
Riding in the conductors cabin of the metro
Waiting to take the metro home from school one day, hands in my pockets, I yawn. At the moment I yawn, the metro pulls up and the conductor opens his front door and tells me that it's rude not to cover your mouth when you yawn. I apologize and start to get into the train. He tells me to come in the front compartment with him, and he will show me how the train works. I say no thank you and scurry onto the train. I sit down and the conductor then opens a door into the compartment. He tells me he won't drive the train until I get into the front of it. There were like 20 people in my compartment staring at me, looking at me like 'um, get into the front section. Now. We're late.' I'm only going 3 stops and I really have wanted to ride in the front of the train... So I go.
He sets me up in a little seat next to him and starts showing me buttons and levers and then asks if I like Tupac and plays some songs on his iPhone. He introduced himself to me (I immediately forgot his name on accident) and am just content to watch the view from the front of the train. It was actually pretty cool. Suddenly it was my stop, I thank him and he tells me that he drives the 2 every afternoon and if he ever sees me waiting for it, I am not allowed to ride in the passenger cabin, I have to ride with him.
I am the queen of the metro
Monday, December 10, 2012
Yes it's rude here too. But who are you voting for?
My first few days here were immediately after the French election. One of the first things that A said to me was "so, who did you vote for?" I tried explaining to him that I am American and that I did not vote. This was confusing to him. "Why wouldn't you vote? Everyone votes. My dad voted for XXXXXXX"
This left a big impression on me. A 5 year old knew who his dad voted for and knew that it was important to vote and although he didn't quite understand, he was horrified that I didn't vote. So naturally as November approached they grew extremely curious about our election and I learned more about theirs. Here is what I learned.
Everyone in France has a political opinion. Everyone is extremely well informed about politics of not only France but also the world (although slightly biased by their pretty liberal culture). The French voting percentage is in the mid 80's and they were absolutely horrified to hear how low ours is in comparison. There are many many political parties in France, more than 5 and each is either as liberal or more liberal than ours, even their 'conservative' parties.
They are currently voting to legalize gay marriage which is causing a lot of uproar in the predominantly catholic country but I believe will ultimately be passed. All other personal rights remain extremely open in comparison to ours.
The French are well informed of American politics but from what I discovered, they really only hear the big points of the arguments and sometimes they didn't understand them. They would ask me to explain what was meant by certain comments made by the politicians and I would have to do my best to explain them.
The first time the family asked me who I was voting for, I started to explain that in the US it's not really appropriate to ask people who they are voting for because it's a personal thing and they said that it was the exact same in France. (Note that this didn't stop them from asking me... however I take it as a sign that they see me as part of the family so it's no longer necessary to follow etiquette rules like that.)
I shared my political views with them and we actually had a nice discussion involving American politics, trying to explain the electoral college to them (this was seriously next to impossible) and comparing our two processes.
The funniest thing to me is that the French didn't seem to understand why anyone would vote for Romney. They treated the election like a formality and assumed Obama would win with flying colors. Not a single person seemed concerned that he may not win, which I also tried to explain to them. I told them how close the election was and that lots of Americans did in fact want Romney to win, to which L scoffed and said "god, Americans are stupid." (This is a typical sentiment echoed by her on a semi-weekly basis; we're stupid, fat, lazy, etc. I have learned to ignore these comments because she is 14 and I remember that everything was stupid around that age.) but it also wasn't just the French. German girls in my classes, Swedish girls and various other Europeans would just come right out and ask who I was voting for and when they got the answer it was a resounding 'ohhhhh good'.
Finally it came time for the election and despite my fathers insistence and organization and help with my absentee ballot, I didn't get it turned in on time. (Read, dad told me 1,000 times to do it and I kept saying that I would, eventually I sent it in just under the wire and was informed that it was too late. Let this be a lesson, daddy's are always right.) So I did not vote in this election and I feel very un-American.
In effort to right this wrong, I only felt it appropriate to go sit at WOS for the entire evening and watch the election from start to finish. I wore a navy blue shirt, a red white and blue hair bow and painted my nails as close to red white and blue as possible (dark pink, blue, light pink)
I watched the election with Katherine, Jen, Jo and the Swedes, by the end it was just Jo and I who made it the entire night (this was a feat and a half considering I had to take care of children the next day and that we are 6 hours ahead of the US so we had to wait that much longer.
The French were extremely happy that Obama won and think its funny, ridiculous and ignorant that people are trying to secede. Let's be honest... Because it is.
This left a big impression on me. A 5 year old knew who his dad voted for and knew that it was important to vote and although he didn't quite understand, he was horrified that I didn't vote. So naturally as November approached they grew extremely curious about our election and I learned more about theirs. Here is what I learned.
Everyone in France has a political opinion. Everyone is extremely well informed about politics of not only France but also the world (although slightly biased by their pretty liberal culture). The French voting percentage is in the mid 80's and they were absolutely horrified to hear how low ours is in comparison. There are many many political parties in France, more than 5 and each is either as liberal or more liberal than ours, even their 'conservative' parties.
They are currently voting to legalize gay marriage which is causing a lot of uproar in the predominantly catholic country but I believe will ultimately be passed. All other personal rights remain extremely open in comparison to ours.
The French are well informed of American politics but from what I discovered, they really only hear the big points of the arguments and sometimes they didn't understand them. They would ask me to explain what was meant by certain comments made by the politicians and I would have to do my best to explain them.
The first time the family asked me who I was voting for, I started to explain that in the US it's not really appropriate to ask people who they are voting for because it's a personal thing and they said that it was the exact same in France. (Note that this didn't stop them from asking me... however I take it as a sign that they see me as part of the family so it's no longer necessary to follow etiquette rules like that.)
I shared my political views with them and we actually had a nice discussion involving American politics, trying to explain the electoral college to them (this was seriously next to impossible) and comparing our two processes.
The funniest thing to me is that the French didn't seem to understand why anyone would vote for Romney. They treated the election like a formality and assumed Obama would win with flying colors. Not a single person seemed concerned that he may not win, which I also tried to explain to them. I told them how close the election was and that lots of Americans did in fact want Romney to win, to which L scoffed and said "god, Americans are stupid." (This is a typical sentiment echoed by her on a semi-weekly basis; we're stupid, fat, lazy, etc. I have learned to ignore these comments because she is 14 and I remember that everything was stupid around that age.) but it also wasn't just the French. German girls in my classes, Swedish girls and various other Europeans would just come right out and ask who I was voting for and when they got the answer it was a resounding 'ohhhhh good'.
Finally it came time for the election and despite my fathers insistence and organization and help with my absentee ballot, I didn't get it turned in on time. (Read, dad told me 1,000 times to do it and I kept saying that I would, eventually I sent it in just under the wire and was informed that it was too late. Let this be a lesson, daddy's are always right.) So I did not vote in this election and I feel very un-American.
In effort to right this wrong, I only felt it appropriate to go sit at WOS for the entire evening and watch the election from start to finish. I wore a navy blue shirt, a red white and blue hair bow and painted my nails as close to red white and blue as possible (dark pink, blue, light pink)
I watched the election with Katherine, Jen, Jo and the Swedes, by the end it was just Jo and I who made it the entire night (this was a feat and a half considering I had to take care of children the next day and that we are 6 hours ahead of the US so we had to wait that much longer.
The French were extremely happy that Obama won and think its funny, ridiculous and ignorant that people are trying to secede. Let's be honest... Because it is.
Parc Asterix; the coldest I've ever been
For the teenagers birthday, she asked me to go with her and her friend to a theme park just outside of Paris. I hear 'theme park outside of Paris' and my brain goes like this:
OMGPARISDISNEYWORLDICANTWAITTOGOIVENEVERBEENTOREALDISNEYWORLDIMFREAKINGOUTIHOPEIMEETSLEEPINGBEAUTY!!!!!!!!!
My princess dreams are cut short when she says she wants to go to Parc Asterix, a French theme park based on a French comic book about a time traveling Viking and his friends. (I think) but hey, of course I'll go, sounds awesome!
I agree to go the Saturday that they ask me to because; hey, free theme park with roller coasters? Why not. So I get up at 6:30 on a Saturday (not fun) and we take the metro to the louvre and board a bus that will take about an hour to get Parc Asterix and bring us back at 6:30. It doesn't open until 10 so we wait just a little bit until the park opens. It's a little chilly and cloudy, which was concerning but I decide to think nothing of it.
We go ride the big roller coasters first before the lines get long. There were about 2-3 big roller coasters, definitely nowhere near as big as the roller coasters that I have been on, but they were okay. Around the end 3rd roller coaster it starts pouring down rain. I go on one more roller coaster with the girls were I got drenched down to my absolute bones. Not a single inch of me was dry.
I immediately started shivering, we wandered around the park for a while until deciding to have lunch and warm up. The food at this amusement park/ the set up was really interesting. They had real food not just burgers. And there was a buffet section that came free with your meal. It was ridiculous.
I wanted to stay in that warm restaurant all day, and the teenager told me I totally could but I didn't want to leave the girls wandering a park alone so after lunch I followed them around but was uninterested in the other rides. They were all kinda lame or closed and the teens just wanted to go back and forth from one big roller coaster to the other. I basically just followed and then sat at the exits, soaking wet and freezing.
Finally the girls were cold too so we went inside and shopped around in the 4,000 gift shops and we went on a carousel possibly 6 times because it was covered from the rain. I picked a pink horse and didn't move. No one was shocked.
I have never been so cold, wet, or tired in my lifetime. Finally after the longest and coldest hours of my life, the sun came out. I am not joking when I say that I found a patch of sun and just stood in it for the duration of the day trying to warm up. The girls rode some ride 15 times in a row so it was totally fine that I didn't move. On our way out, we buy waffles with chocolate (delicious and horridly messy) and finally get onto a bus to take us back home.
We get back to the apartment and I take the hottest shower possible. When my shower runs out of hot water (spoiler alert, within 10 minutes) I get out, sit and wait a half an hour for it to get warm again and take another steaming hot shower. I somehow made it out that night to WOS for the back-to-school party, but don't ask me how because I have no idea.
The pictures: Asterix sitting on top of a mountain, my pink carousel horse, other horses on the carousel, Siobhan and I in silly costumes at the back to school party.
OMGPARISDISNEYWORLDICANTWAITTOGOIVENEVERBEENTOREALDISNEYWORLDIMFREAKINGOUTIHOPEIMEETSLEEPINGBEAUTY!!!!!!!!!
My princess dreams are cut short when she says she wants to go to Parc Asterix, a French theme park based on a French comic book about a time traveling Viking and his friends. (I think) but hey, of course I'll go, sounds awesome!
I agree to go the Saturday that they ask me to because; hey, free theme park with roller coasters? Why not. So I get up at 6:30 on a Saturday (not fun) and we take the metro to the louvre and board a bus that will take about an hour to get Parc Asterix and bring us back at 6:30. It doesn't open until 10 so we wait just a little bit until the park opens. It's a little chilly and cloudy, which was concerning but I decide to think nothing of it.
We go ride the big roller coasters first before the lines get long. There were about 2-3 big roller coasters, definitely nowhere near as big as the roller coasters that I have been on, but they were okay. Around the end 3rd roller coaster it starts pouring down rain. I go on one more roller coaster with the girls were I got drenched down to my absolute bones. Not a single inch of me was dry.
I immediately started shivering, we wandered around the park for a while until deciding to have lunch and warm up. The food at this amusement park/ the set up was really interesting. They had real food not just burgers. And there was a buffet section that came free with your meal. It was ridiculous.
I wanted to stay in that warm restaurant all day, and the teenager told me I totally could but I didn't want to leave the girls wandering a park alone so after lunch I followed them around but was uninterested in the other rides. They were all kinda lame or closed and the teens just wanted to go back and forth from one big roller coaster to the other. I basically just followed and then sat at the exits, soaking wet and freezing.
Finally the girls were cold too so we went inside and shopped around in the 4,000 gift shops and we went on a carousel possibly 6 times because it was covered from the rain. I picked a pink horse and didn't move. No one was shocked.
I have never been so cold, wet, or tired in my lifetime. Finally after the longest and coldest hours of my life, the sun came out. I am not joking when I say that I found a patch of sun and just stood in it for the duration of the day trying to warm up. The girls rode some ride 15 times in a row so it was totally fine that I didn't move. On our way out, we buy waffles with chocolate (delicious and horridly messy) and finally get onto a bus to take us back home.
We get back to the apartment and I take the hottest shower possible. When my shower runs out of hot water (spoiler alert, within 10 minutes) I get out, sit and wait a half an hour for it to get warm again and take another steaming hot shower. I somehow made it out that night to WOS for the back-to-school party, but don't ask me how because I have no idea.
The pictures: Asterix sitting on top of a mountain, my pink carousel horse, other horses on the carousel, Siobhan and I in silly costumes at the back to school party.
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Halloweenish
I don't really like Halloween. It stresses me out because I always want to be something witty or funny but am neither witty nor funny enough to come up with a good costume and I end up stressed for days trying to come up with something and I always just end up saying, 'forget it' and going as something totally lame. French Halloween was no different.
When the kids lived in Singapore they celebrated Halloween so they are extremely familiar with the concept, but it isn't very popular in France. There were no decorations, big bags of candy, costumes or anything, but the kids wanted them. I'm sure if I had really looked into it, I could have found some sort of Halloween celebration somewhere in Paris for kids with candy but like I said, I'm not super into Halloween (read: I got lazy).
This year, Halloween fell during the kids 2 week fall break. (Recall that French schools run for 6 weeks and then give kids a 2 week break throughout the school year.) The boys ended up going to a camp type thing that is set up by the Mayor of Paris in each school and it ran the entire day, so my schedule wasn't really changed, I just took them to the school and picked them up each night but didn't have school myself, which was nice. H went to a friends house for a week and L always does her own thing so I didn't have much to do. This whole set up was really convenient for me to just skip over celebrating with the kids. No one seemed to mind. We played dress up in their costumes and ran around for a bit. A was allowed to dress up to go to the school but he couldn't decide what costume to wear. We're kindred spirits, I guess. He packed a backpack with both a Spiderman costume and a knight costume so he could decide once we got there.
We walked into the school and he pulled on my hand and told me that he had decided he wanted to be Spiderman and asked if I could help him put it on before he saw his friends. That little Spiderman was so cute I couldn't stand it. He ran inside and I heard all of his friends tell him how cool he looked, it was adorable.
For grown up Halloween, WOS had a Zombie themed Halloween Party and my darling friend Pierre let me borrow a costume to wear, but I couldn't find anything that was witty or clever so I picked a prisoner and planned on putting on some zombie makeup but we couldn't find it, so... oh well. Katherine went as Laura Croft, Jen went as Catwoman/Zoro and Jo just wore a skirt?
There were some of the scariest and most disgusting looking zombies at this party. Francois was dressed so scary, people were covered in fake blood, there was a guy with an eyeball falling out, and all of the bartenders wore contacts that made their eyes so scary and like 8 different colors. I quickly realized that in France, Halloween is not the excuse girls use to wear skimpy (or occasionally witty) costumes. Halloween is supposed to be scary and let me tell you, it was.
Sorry that this blog post read like it was written by an 8 year old. I'm so exhausted.
More to come!
When the kids lived in Singapore they celebrated Halloween so they are extremely familiar with the concept, but it isn't very popular in France. There were no decorations, big bags of candy, costumes or anything, but the kids wanted them. I'm sure if I had really looked into it, I could have found some sort of Halloween celebration somewhere in Paris for kids with candy but like I said, I'm not super into Halloween (read: I got lazy).
This year, Halloween fell during the kids 2 week fall break. (Recall that French schools run for 6 weeks and then give kids a 2 week break throughout the school year.) The boys ended up going to a camp type thing that is set up by the Mayor of Paris in each school and it ran the entire day, so my schedule wasn't really changed, I just took them to the school and picked them up each night but didn't have school myself, which was nice. H went to a friends house for a week and L always does her own thing so I didn't have much to do. This whole set up was really convenient for me to just skip over celebrating with the kids. No one seemed to mind. We played dress up in their costumes and ran around for a bit. A was allowed to dress up to go to the school but he couldn't decide what costume to wear. We're kindred spirits, I guess. He packed a backpack with both a Spiderman costume and a knight costume so he could decide once we got there.
We walked into the school and he pulled on my hand and told me that he had decided he wanted to be Spiderman and asked if I could help him put it on before he saw his friends. That little Spiderman was so cute I couldn't stand it. He ran inside and I heard all of his friends tell him how cool he looked, it was adorable.
For grown up Halloween, WOS had a Zombie themed Halloween Party and my darling friend Pierre let me borrow a costume to wear, but I couldn't find anything that was witty or clever so I picked a prisoner and planned on putting on some zombie makeup but we couldn't find it, so... oh well. Katherine went as Laura Croft, Jen went as Catwoman/Zoro and Jo just wore a skirt?
There were some of the scariest and most disgusting looking zombies at this party. Francois was dressed so scary, people were covered in fake blood, there was a guy with an eyeball falling out, and all of the bartenders wore contacts that made their eyes so scary and like 8 different colors. I quickly realized that in France, Halloween is not the excuse girls use to wear skimpy (or occasionally witty) costumes. Halloween is supposed to be scary and let me tell you, it was.
Sorry that this blog post read like it was written by an 8 year old. I'm so exhausted.
More to come!
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
The zombie burlesque show that wasn't
I have a million things to write about and I keep forgetting to write them all down and then more things happen and I get so bogged down that now I'm desperately playing catch up! So...sorry about that!
The thing I love about Paris is that on any given day/night you can find a thousand and one things to do. Movies, plays, museums, weird themed parties, bars that are open until all hours of the night etc.
This story takes place on a random Saturday night. I went to Siobhan's house and she informed me of a Zombie Burlesque Show happening near where she lived. Obviously we decide to go. We were not really sure what all it entails,and we were slightly terrified but interested none the less. We catch a bus and head to the area.
We go down the street to the address and come to two huge doors with people standing outside and posters everywhere. We assume this is the place of the show and go inside. You know what they say about assuming things... We pay a small cover and walk inside. It's an old theatre that has been converted into a club, the theatre geek in me is totally tweaking out. It's suuuuper crowded but no one is dressed up like zombies so we are a little confused. There was a band of at least 10 people on stage, wearing horrifying outfits that I am positive came from a French version of hot topic. There were 3 women singers and they kept rotating, each one wearing a terrifying outfit. Siobhan and I were the youngest people there by a solid 10 years.
After about 10 minutes, we realized that we were not in the right location. This band was apparently in the middle of an intense set of weird pop-punk French music and the crowd of middle aged french people was breaking it down like I have never seen before. We headed to an upper balcony to observe.
We let it ride for a little bit and eventually leave, sad that we didn't see any burlesque zombies and confused about why we didn't. We then realize that we walked the wrong way down the street and the zombie burlesque show was towards the other way. (A fact we realize when we see skulls painted on the ground heading in the opposite direction.) we decide to head that way just to check it out.
We immediately realize we have found the right place when a woman in a corset, petticoats and full on zombie make up is taking tickets at the door. We would have gone in but we already paid cover at the other place and poverty is a serious issue for Au pairs.
We meet up with Siobhan's friend and head out to oberkampf and just hang out for a bit until the place we went to closed. The metro is also closed but Julia and I take the night bus, a terrifying experience that I will never do alone, but convenient and free to get home instead of paying for a cab.
We had so much awkward and strange fun that night but I genuinely hope someday Siobhan and I find and attend a zombie burlesque show. It's now on the top of my 'must do while in Paris' list.
The thing I love about Paris is that on any given day/night you can find a thousand and one things to do. Movies, plays, museums, weird themed parties, bars that are open until all hours of the night etc.
This story takes place on a random Saturday night. I went to Siobhan's house and she informed me of a Zombie Burlesque Show happening near where she lived. Obviously we decide to go. We were not really sure what all it entails,and we were slightly terrified but interested none the less. We catch a bus and head to the area.
We go down the street to the address and come to two huge doors with people standing outside and posters everywhere. We assume this is the place of the show and go inside. You know what they say about assuming things... We pay a small cover and walk inside. It's an old theatre that has been converted into a club, the theatre geek in me is totally tweaking out. It's suuuuper crowded but no one is dressed up like zombies so we are a little confused. There was a band of at least 10 people on stage, wearing horrifying outfits that I am positive came from a French version of hot topic. There were 3 women singers and they kept rotating, each one wearing a terrifying outfit. Siobhan and I were the youngest people there by a solid 10 years.
After about 10 minutes, we realized that we were not in the right location. This band was apparently in the middle of an intense set of weird pop-punk French music and the crowd of middle aged french people was breaking it down like I have never seen before. We headed to an upper balcony to observe.
We let it ride for a little bit and eventually leave, sad that we didn't see any burlesque zombies and confused about why we didn't. We then realize that we walked the wrong way down the street and the zombie burlesque show was towards the other way. (A fact we realize when we see skulls painted on the ground heading in the opposite direction.) we decide to head that way just to check it out.
We immediately realize we have found the right place when a woman in a corset, petticoats and full on zombie make up is taking tickets at the door. We would have gone in but we already paid cover at the other place and poverty is a serious issue for Au pairs.
We meet up with Siobhan's friend and head out to oberkampf and just hang out for a bit until the place we went to closed. The metro is also closed but Julia and I take the night bus, a terrifying experience that I will never do alone, but convenient and free to get home instead of paying for a cab.
We had so much awkward and strange fun that night but I genuinely hope someday Siobhan and I find and attend a zombie burlesque show. It's now on the top of my 'must do while in Paris' list.
Monday, October 22, 2012
The cutest thing I've ever heard
The other night as I was tucking A and B into bed and they started asking about my family. I told them about my mom and my dad and my house and my life in the US.
They were absolutely awestruck when I explained that I don't have brothers of sisters. They did not think this was a possibility. B asked me several times about brothers or sisters, why I didn't have any, where they were, if I wanted them and mostly questions about how on earth I spent all of that alone time.
After I answered all of their questions, B said to me, Amanda, you have brothers? And I said, no sweetheart I don't. And he vehemently nodded and said, but yes, you do!
We can be your brothers if you want.
They were absolutely awestruck when I explained that I don't have brothers of sisters. They did not think this was a possibility. B asked me several times about brothers or sisters, why I didn't have any, where they were, if I wanted them and mostly questions about how on earth I spent all of that alone time.
After I answered all of their questions, B said to me, Amanda, you have brothers? And I said, no sweetheart I don't. And he vehemently nodded and said, but yes, you do!
We can be your brothers if you want.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
The first French person to make me cry
French public servants are the worst.
To ride the metro, you need tickets. Tickets are expensive, so you get a Navigo pass. Navigo passes are expensive so you apply for a student Navigo at a reduced rate.
You fill out all of your paperwork and send them money and then you wait 21 days and they send you a metro pass that is way cheaper than recharging your pass each month.
So, I did all of that. And then I waited. And I waited. And I waited.
Today I got an email basically saying that they sent my pass to the address on file but it was sent back because "I don't live at the address given."
Since I do not have my own letter box, I have to put my name then underneath it: chez (name of my family). I did that. Apparently the mail man still can't figure it out. Annoyed.
So this email gave me a number to call. I called it. Please remember my dislike for the phone in general plus then my general difficulties with spoken French. After telling the man on the other line why I was calling, he asked me a few questions such as; what is your account number (I don't have one because I've not gotten my paperwork back) what is your last name? (VanOsdol) and your first name? (Amanda) how do you spell your last name (V-A-N-O-S-D-O-L)
Okay, ZANOFDOL. (no, V as in Victor, S as in Sam)
After this frustrating exchange the man on the phone interrupts me and says,
Mademoiselle, do you know anyone who speaks better French? Call me back when you find someone who speaks French.
....the rudest.
To ride the metro, you need tickets. Tickets are expensive, so you get a Navigo pass. Navigo passes are expensive so you apply for a student Navigo at a reduced rate.
You fill out all of your paperwork and send them money and then you wait 21 days and they send you a metro pass that is way cheaper than recharging your pass each month.
So, I did all of that. And then I waited. And I waited. And I waited.
Today I got an email basically saying that they sent my pass to the address on file but it was sent back because "I don't live at the address given."
Since I do not have my own letter box, I have to put my name then underneath it: chez (name of my family). I did that. Apparently the mail man still can't figure it out. Annoyed.
So this email gave me a number to call. I called it. Please remember my dislike for the phone in general plus then my general difficulties with spoken French. After telling the man on the other line why I was calling, he asked me a few questions such as; what is your account number (I don't have one because I've not gotten my paperwork back) what is your last name? (VanOsdol) and your first name? (Amanda) how do you spell your last name (V-A-N-O-S-D-O-L)
Okay, ZANOFDOL. (no, V as in Victor, S as in Sam)
After this frustrating exchange the man on the phone interrupts me and says,
Mademoiselle, do you know anyone who speaks better French? Call me back when you find someone who speaks French.
....the rudest.
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Back to school
So my classes in French officially began on October 1st. I have a visitation class Mondays from 12-1:30ish where we meet at different locations around Paris and learn about them/ discuss them. Then I have another class that meets Tuesday/Friday from 1-3:15. This is my language/grammar/vocabulary class and it's the longest of my life.
I took a written test in French and then had to go take a quick little oral test. My written French is apparently at a much higher level than my speaking French which is apparently troubling for all involved.
I was placed in a class a little below my level to hopefully help me improve my speaking. Here is what I believe to be the problem: when I speak, even in English, I speak really fast. In order to try to keep up with the French, I just go. I could talk non stop for 10 minutes but none of the verbs would be conjugated correctly and my pronouns would be misplaced. When I write, I have time to write out verbs, spell them correctly, make them agree where they are supposed to and all the things you're supposed to do, however I still make faults. This is typical. French is tricky.
So the woman giving me the test told me that after the first 10 weeks I can switch to a higher level. Cool. I go to my own class.
It's a great review. Tons of things that I need to remember and it's really great going over the rules that I have forgotten. However; it is review for me. Some of the people in my class are just learning this stuff so it takes a few times to explain everything.
This makes the class go extremely slow. I am glad for the review but when it takes 45 minutes to learn how to conjugate the imperfect tense, I want to cry from boredom.
So the first or second day, my teacher explains that we are going to do exposés every Friday. The first one is going to be about our home countries. We get to explain our geographical location, culture, traditions etc.
Um... I'm from the united states. Everyone knows where we are. We don't have a culture. We take things from other cultures and make then worse by making them 'amurican' that is our culture. Ps. I'm the only American.
So I come to the realization that I'm eventually going to stand in this room in front of all these foreigners and tell them where the united states is. And about our culture. I hate everything about this idea but eventually I accept the terms.
My teacher asks for volunteers. I normally always volunteer to go near the beginning of things so that I can just be done with them and not have to worry. Not a single person offers to go first, not even the loud mouthed Russian girl. Great.
I realize the implications of the American volunteering to go first to talk about her home country. I'm annoyed with myself as I raise my hand. The teacher says ok, Amanda, what country will you be discussing. As I said "des etats-unis" I couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculous image.
The entire class giggles along with me. Apparently it's a 'thing' to have an American friend though, because after that everyone wanted to chat about where they had been in the US, and where I was from, and how much they loooooved x type of horrible American food.
I went to go give my exposé on Friday. (written entirely about Indiana instead of all the united states. There's even a blurb about IU basketball...of course.)
My teacher was sick. This Friday it is.
I took a written test in French and then had to go take a quick little oral test. My written French is apparently at a much higher level than my speaking French which is apparently troubling for all involved.
I was placed in a class a little below my level to hopefully help me improve my speaking. Here is what I believe to be the problem: when I speak, even in English, I speak really fast. In order to try to keep up with the French, I just go. I could talk non stop for 10 minutes but none of the verbs would be conjugated correctly and my pronouns would be misplaced. When I write, I have time to write out verbs, spell them correctly, make them agree where they are supposed to and all the things you're supposed to do, however I still make faults. This is typical. French is tricky.
So the woman giving me the test told me that after the first 10 weeks I can switch to a higher level. Cool. I go to my own class.
It's a great review. Tons of things that I need to remember and it's really great going over the rules that I have forgotten. However; it is review for me. Some of the people in my class are just learning this stuff so it takes a few times to explain everything.
This makes the class go extremely slow. I am glad for the review but when it takes 45 minutes to learn how to conjugate the imperfect tense, I want to cry from boredom.
So the first or second day, my teacher explains that we are going to do exposés every Friday. The first one is going to be about our home countries. We get to explain our geographical location, culture, traditions etc.
Um... I'm from the united states. Everyone knows where we are. We don't have a culture. We take things from other cultures and make then worse by making them 'amurican' that is our culture. Ps. I'm the only American.
So I come to the realization that I'm eventually going to stand in this room in front of all these foreigners and tell them where the united states is. And about our culture. I hate everything about this idea but eventually I accept the terms.
My teacher asks for volunteers. I normally always volunteer to go near the beginning of things so that I can just be done with them and not have to worry. Not a single person offers to go first, not even the loud mouthed Russian girl. Great.
I realize the implications of the American volunteering to go first to talk about her home country. I'm annoyed with myself as I raise my hand. The teacher says ok, Amanda, what country will you be discussing. As I said "des etats-unis" I couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculous image.
The entire class giggles along with me. Apparently it's a 'thing' to have an American friend though, because after that everyone wanted to chat about where they had been in the US, and where I was from, and how much they loooooved x type of horrible American food.
I went to go give my exposé on Friday. (written entirely about Indiana instead of all the united states. There's even a blurb about IU basketball...of course.)
My teacher was sick. This Friday it is.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Don't hate on Spotify.
This is just a quick little blurb on how I made a few new friends!
When you move to a foreign country, expats tend to clump together in awkward ways. For example, there are 3-4 bars in Paris that play American football games. So on a Sunday, you go to them, see who is watching the same game as you, eventually realize that you are cheering for the same team or against each other, and proceed to start discussing your whereabouts. I have not met a single person from Indiana this way. I have, however, met lots of people from Wisconsin and New York. Katherine seems to constantly find Saints fans and even found a kid who went to her same high school and was a year below her.
The other thing about being abroad is that either you find out that someone you know is traveling through your city so you try to set up coffee/dinner/drinks or someone knows you live in a place so they put it on their itinerary and shoot you an email. Both of these things are fine by me and I welcome them; however, as the last two people to meander through the city to try to meet up with me have determined, I have the worlds most awkward schedule, so it's easier said than done.
All that said, Katherine found out that a guy she knew in high school is studying French here at the Sorbonne so we decided to meet up with him to watch football one Sunday. He says he is bringing along friends from his class. I assume other Americans. Incorrect.
He brings Swedish people! Now I'm not going to give you all the impression that I have made best friends with a bajillion Swedes because that is just simply not the case. Plus as anyone can tell you, you're not really friends with someone until you're friends on Facebook, and I'm only Facebook friends with one of them so far.
But, I have played kings with them,
I've been to their apartment and learned that you do not wear shoes in someone else's house, not even if you're a stranger,
you don't discuss Madonna because of the extremely heated debate that ensues about her merits as a singer vs. her terrifying personality,
Swedish girls like big necklaces,
and you don't hate on Spotify, no matter how badly it confuses or frustrates you, because it was invented in Sweden and they are extremely proud of that fact.
I've also been taught several Swedish words that I promptly forgot. C'est la vie.
When you move to a foreign country, expats tend to clump together in awkward ways. For example, there are 3-4 bars in Paris that play American football games. So on a Sunday, you go to them, see who is watching the same game as you, eventually realize that you are cheering for the same team or against each other, and proceed to start discussing your whereabouts. I have not met a single person from Indiana this way. I have, however, met lots of people from Wisconsin and New York. Katherine seems to constantly find Saints fans and even found a kid who went to her same high school and was a year below her.
The other thing about being abroad is that either you find out that someone you know is traveling through your city so you try to set up coffee/dinner/drinks or someone knows you live in a place so they put it on their itinerary and shoot you an email. Both of these things are fine by me and I welcome them; however, as the last two people to meander through the city to try to meet up with me have determined, I have the worlds most awkward schedule, so it's easier said than done.
All that said, Katherine found out that a guy she knew in high school is studying French here at the Sorbonne so we decided to meet up with him to watch football one Sunday. He says he is bringing along friends from his class. I assume other Americans. Incorrect.
He brings Swedish people! Now I'm not going to give you all the impression that I have made best friends with a bajillion Swedes because that is just simply not the case. Plus as anyone can tell you, you're not really friends with someone until you're friends on Facebook, and I'm only Facebook friends with one of them so far.
But, I have played kings with them,
I've been to their apartment and learned that you do not wear shoes in someone else's house, not even if you're a stranger,
you don't discuss Madonna because of the extremely heated debate that ensues about her merits as a singer vs. her terrifying personality,
Swedish girls like big necklaces,
and you don't hate on Spotify, no matter how badly it confuses or frustrates you, because it was invented in Sweden and they are extremely proud of that fact.
I've also been taught several Swedish words that I promptly forgot. C'est la vie.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Aileen comes to visit
So I had my first long term guest two weeks ago when Aileen came to stay for a week! (I don't count Marianthi spending the night and missing her train the next morning, although I probably should since she was my first guest and her missing the train was partly my fault)
She flew in on a Saturday morning, I gave her explicit instructions on how to get to the train stop where I would be waiting.
I found her right where I told her to be (she's such a good listener...unlike Allie and I who were great up to a certain point and then we were clueless)
We then dropped off her stuff and went for a little stroll around my neighborhood, got some food and had a teensy little picnic in the park near my house.
From there we hung out some more, met Francois at the l'arc de triomphe and walked to the Eiffel tower, got ready and went out with Katherine to Concoran's which is in Irish pub/bar. I am so proud of Aileen she stayed out the entire first night combatting jet lag.
Sunday we went to WOS for Sunday funday and football and hung around.
Monday we walked around; went to the Sacre coeur and then I had to babysit Monday night so she went with Katherine, Siobhan and their friends to trivia night...again at WOS.
Poor Aileen, she was here for a week and I think we must have gone to WOS like 4 times.
Here is a list of things we did because it's growing increasingly harder to remember what day/order we did them in:
-Trivia at WOS
-Out in mouffetarde
-Sacre coeur
-Eiffel tower
-Louvre
-L'orangerie
-Lunch in Tuileries
-Out with a group of rowdy scotts
-Hung out with Katherine and Blair in their cool hotel room
-Skipped down the street dancing to call me maybe
-Notre Dame
-Shopped
-Drank wine
-Drank coffee
-Ate so much cheese
-Versailles for like 20 minutes
-Tried to teach swedes (my 'i made more friends' story) to play the game 'presidents' without success
-Tried to play 'baseball' with swedes without success
-Tried to learn Swedish...without success
-Beat swedes in flip cup, despite my apparent anxiety
-Learned a Swedish drinking game that was unreal fun although complicated at first
-l'arc de triomphe
-ate at le depart st Michel (which is always/never a good idea) at 5am
She brought me the best 'hey girl' book of my lifetime, American gum and reese's peanut butter cups. I was the happiest clam. By the end of the week I was so exhausted from all the cool and fun things we did that I thought I may die.
But I didn't die. In fact, I started school.
She flew in on a Saturday morning, I gave her explicit instructions on how to get to the train stop where I would be waiting.
I found her right where I told her to be (she's such a good listener...unlike Allie and I who were great up to a certain point and then we were clueless)
We then dropped off her stuff and went for a little stroll around my neighborhood, got some food and had a teensy little picnic in the park near my house.
From there we hung out some more, met Francois at the l'arc de triomphe and walked to the Eiffel tower, got ready and went out with Katherine to Concoran's which is in Irish pub/bar. I am so proud of Aileen she stayed out the entire first night combatting jet lag.
Sunday we went to WOS for Sunday funday and football and hung around.
Monday we walked around; went to the Sacre coeur and then I had to babysit Monday night so she went with Katherine, Siobhan and their friends to trivia night...again at WOS.
Poor Aileen, she was here for a week and I think we must have gone to WOS like 4 times.
Here is a list of things we did because it's growing increasingly harder to remember what day/order we did them in:
-Trivia at WOS
-Out in mouffetarde
-Sacre coeur
-Eiffel tower
-Louvre
-L'orangerie
-Lunch in Tuileries
-Out with a group of rowdy scotts
-Hung out with Katherine and Blair in their cool hotel room
-Skipped down the street dancing to call me maybe
-Notre Dame
-Shopped
-Drank wine
-Drank coffee
-Ate so much cheese
-Versailles for like 20 minutes
-Tried to teach swedes (my 'i made more friends' story) to play the game 'presidents' without success
-Tried to play 'baseball' with swedes without success
-Tried to learn Swedish...without success
-Beat swedes in flip cup, despite my apparent anxiety
-Learned a Swedish drinking game that was unreal fun although complicated at first
-l'arc de triomphe
-ate at le depart st Michel (which is always/never a good idea) at 5am
She brought me the best 'hey girl' book of my lifetime, American gum and reese's peanut butter cups. I was the happiest clam. By the end of the week I was so exhausted from all the cool and fun things we did that I thought I may die.
But I didn't die. In fact, I started school.
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
The worst cab ride ever- besides the one where I lost my iPhone
So, in Paris, the metro closes around 1 on weeknights and around 1:40 on weekends. It does not open again until 5:30 am. This is annoying. There is a night bus available but bus routes are so complicated even in the day time that I can never figure them out, let alone the night bus that only runs every 45 minutes or so.
Sometimes it happens that you miss the last metro, walking by yourself is just not an option and you are forced to take a taxi. Usually it is avoidable but once every 2 weeks or so, I find myself hailing a cab. A good driver gets me to my street from the center of Paris for 11 euro, I tip them a few euro and am on my way; no harm, no foul. Sometimes they take a little longer or there is a little more traffic and the cab ride is about 13, it all just depends.
This one particular evening, it's late and raining and I find myself having missed the metro. So I walk to a conveniently placed taxi stand just next to the metro and there is a line of taxi's waiting. I walk up to the first taxi and approach the drivers window. (In Paris, taxi drivers usually like you to tell them where you are going before you get into their cab so they can refuse you flat out if it's too far or they just don't want to drive you. Once I was lost, hailed a cab and was refused based on the fact that the restaurant I was trying to go was just on the opposite street corner. Hello directional impairment)
I stand patiently by the window where the man takes no notice of me. He has his fedora almost covering his eyes, which I believe are closed. I awkwardly stand by the window and pace hoping he will sense the movement and wake up. No such luck. I have to knock on his window to wake him up. (In Paris you do NOT cut the taxi line or skip a taxi. You are obligated to take the first in line. He has apparently earned your money and personal preference has no say in the matter. I would have just as soon let him sleep.)
I knock on his window and he jolts awake and motions me to get inside. I open the door and give him my address and add that it is near parc monceau, a very well known park that is legitimately 100 yards from my door.
He assures me he knows exactly where he is going. I trust him because he is a cab driver.
We start driving and after 5-10 minutes I realize something is not right. The meter is already at 10 euro (he was even charging me the inner city rate...which sometimes cab drivers try to fudge if they think you're a tourist with no clue what you're doing) and we are nowhere near my apartment. I ask him if he is sure he knows where we're going. He says yes and that we are almost there.
I am silent for only about 1.50 more euro and then I tell him that it does not normally take this long. He sighs and pulls over. Finally he hands me a map of Paris and opens it to a page with a list of all of the streets in the city and their coordinating cross streets and start and stop streets. He tells me to find my street and read the list to him.
I find my street and do as I'm told. He then asks me to find one of the cross streets on the list and read the corresponding streets for that road. I do this and he tells me he knows we're we are going and we drive on again.
After a minute or two, I know he has no clue where we are going and this cab ride is turning into one of the most expensive of my life. I still have the map so I find the street map of my arrondissement and I point to my street. This one! Here! Next to the huge green spot in the middle of the paper!!
I'm getting visibly frustrated until I see a sign pointing in the direction behind us that says "parc monceau" and
I point this out to him. Right there, sir. That sign clearly says park monceau. He says, what sign? I gesture, I describe, I yell a little bit, and he still doesn't know what I'm talking out. I'm on the verge of getting out of the taxi cab and physically shaking the sign in his face when it hits me.
This man cannot read. That is why he handed me the map when we pulled over and why he asked me to read it. That is why he has no idea what 'sign' I'm talking about. I look at the meter and it's hitting 22 euro. I am so frustrated because either this man can't read or he is swindling me out of money because he can tell I'm foreign.
I start sobbing. I only have 30 euro on me. I cannot afford this cab ride. I don't know how to tell him to take me home, and I'm exhausted. I'm crying in his back seat like a high school girl who didn't make the cheer-leading team. He is staring at me like I'm a mutant.
Sure, I'm in a cab with a driver who can't read, sobbing and I'm the weird one. He asks what's wrong and I tell him that I can't afford the cab, I'm tired, and I really need to go home and just to twist the knife a little, I tell him that I'm super homesick and I miss my friends and family. He apologizes profusely and turns the meter off.
In about 10 minutes we find my apartment, during which time he tells me how homesick he is for his home country of "jibberish I couldn't understand" and I get out. While I should have refused to pay at all for a cab ride that normally costs me 15 euro including tip, I am so tired and now I feel bad because this guy is homesick too, so I gave him a 20 euro and got out of the cab.
On another note, I absolutely plan on getting a bike pass so that I never have to deal with cabs again.
Sometimes it happens that you miss the last metro, walking by yourself is just not an option and you are forced to take a taxi. Usually it is avoidable but once every 2 weeks or so, I find myself hailing a cab. A good driver gets me to my street from the center of Paris for 11 euro, I tip them a few euro and am on my way; no harm, no foul. Sometimes they take a little longer or there is a little more traffic and the cab ride is about 13, it all just depends.
This one particular evening, it's late and raining and I find myself having missed the metro. So I walk to a conveniently placed taxi stand just next to the metro and there is a line of taxi's waiting. I walk up to the first taxi and approach the drivers window. (In Paris, taxi drivers usually like you to tell them where you are going before you get into their cab so they can refuse you flat out if it's too far or they just don't want to drive you. Once I was lost, hailed a cab and was refused based on the fact that the restaurant I was trying to go was just on the opposite street corner. Hello directional impairment)
I stand patiently by the window where the man takes no notice of me. He has his fedora almost covering his eyes, which I believe are closed. I awkwardly stand by the window and pace hoping he will sense the movement and wake up. No such luck. I have to knock on his window to wake him up. (In Paris you do NOT cut the taxi line or skip a taxi. You are obligated to take the first in line. He has apparently earned your money and personal preference has no say in the matter. I would have just as soon let him sleep.)
I knock on his window and he jolts awake and motions me to get inside. I open the door and give him my address and add that it is near parc monceau, a very well known park that is legitimately 100 yards from my door.
He assures me he knows exactly where he is going. I trust him because he is a cab driver.
We start driving and after 5-10 minutes I realize something is not right. The meter is already at 10 euro (he was even charging me the inner city rate...which sometimes cab drivers try to fudge if they think you're a tourist with no clue what you're doing) and we are nowhere near my apartment. I ask him if he is sure he knows where we're going. He says yes and that we are almost there.
I am silent for only about 1.50 more euro and then I tell him that it does not normally take this long. He sighs and pulls over. Finally he hands me a map of Paris and opens it to a page with a list of all of the streets in the city and their coordinating cross streets and start and stop streets. He tells me to find my street and read the list to him.
I find my street and do as I'm told. He then asks me to find one of the cross streets on the list and read the corresponding streets for that road. I do this and he tells me he knows we're we are going and we drive on again.
After a minute or two, I know he has no clue where we are going and this cab ride is turning into one of the most expensive of my life. I still have the map so I find the street map of my arrondissement and I point to my street. This one! Here! Next to the huge green spot in the middle of the paper!!
I'm getting visibly frustrated until I see a sign pointing in the direction behind us that says "parc monceau" and
I point this out to him. Right there, sir. That sign clearly says park monceau. He says, what sign? I gesture, I describe, I yell a little bit, and he still doesn't know what I'm talking out. I'm on the verge of getting out of the taxi cab and physically shaking the sign in his face when it hits me.
This man cannot read. That is why he handed me the map when we pulled over and why he asked me to read it. That is why he has no idea what 'sign' I'm talking about. I look at the meter and it's hitting 22 euro. I am so frustrated because either this man can't read or he is swindling me out of money because he can tell I'm foreign.
I start sobbing. I only have 30 euro on me. I cannot afford this cab ride. I don't know how to tell him to take me home, and I'm exhausted. I'm crying in his back seat like a high school girl who didn't make the cheer-leading team. He is staring at me like I'm a mutant.
Sure, I'm in a cab with a driver who can't read, sobbing and I'm the weird one. He asks what's wrong and I tell him that I can't afford the cab, I'm tired, and I really need to go home and just to twist the knife a little, I tell him that I'm super homesick and I miss my friends and family. He apologizes profusely and turns the meter off.
In about 10 minutes we find my apartment, during which time he tells me how homesick he is for his home country of "jibberish I couldn't understand" and I get out. While I should have refused to pay at all for a cab ride that normally costs me 15 euro including tip, I am so tired and now I feel bad because this guy is homesick too, so I gave him a 20 euro and got out of the cab.
On another note, I absolutely plan on getting a bike pass so that I never have to deal with cabs again.
Monday, October 8, 2012
Life Updates
Holy 2,000+ blog views, Batman! Thank you, guys! I'm seriously so flattered that my blog has had over 2,000 views from my friends and family (probably mostly from my mom and dad) and I hereby vow to do a better job with blogging. More funny stories as they happen, more pictures (hopefully) and more updating. I tend to get really bogged down and then I forget all the things I wanted to write about and then I end up posting one huge blog entry that no one wants to read all the way through, I'm sure.
Let's throw a quick little update on my life right now since the summer ended:
-The kids went back to school,
-B turned 8 years old, A turned 5 years old, L is turning 14 next week
-The kids hate my rain boots. I do not care.
-I saw the king tut exhibit that I've been dying to see since it was at the Children's Museum and I missed it
-The new Au Pairs arrived
-I made a friend, Katherine.
-Katherine and I learn to "guard our hearts"
-Finally got my french credit card from the bank, promptly overdrew
-Aileen came to visit
-I got into a cab with possibly the worlds only cab driver who can't read/didn't have a GPS and had no idea where he was going - story to follow
-Expats can be ultra condescending
-School started for myself
-I made some more friends!
-Siobhan came back so I have another friend
-I went to nuit blanche
-I bought myself a stove top
-subsequently after buying the stove top, I learned what it means to be poor
-Host mom switched to whole grain baguettes instead of normal baguettes and I am a little bitter about it because they ARE NOT AS DELICIOUS, obviously. Why are they even a thing?
-the COLTS beat the PACKERS - yes please.
-B said the cutest thing in the world to me.
Where to start:
The kids going back to school.
So H has officially moved to 'college' which is like our middle school. She attends the same school as L and I honestly believe that over-night she sprouted the most riDONKulous attitude I have ever encountered. Seriously. The other night at dinner she got yelled at by her dad so she refused to eat; B needed a spoon so host dad said, oh take H's she isn't using it. She yanked it off the table and clutched it to herself crying. I remember being 11. It's not fun. I get her. The point is, now that she goes to college, I don't have to walk her to school anymore so it's just me and the boys. Things seem to be easier with just 2 boys instead of 2 boys and a girl which is confusing to me. A is still in 'ecole maternelle' which is basically pre-school although he is in his last year (I think) and B is still at his normal elementary school. I drop them off, I pick them up. Normal.
King Tut:
Why am I such a loser? I was so excited to see this exhibit that it was unreal. I woke up 2 hours early, I tried to buy tickets in advance but couldn't figure it out because the website was in complicated French and my French friend Francois was like, no, don't do that, it's stupid. Just buy them there. No one buys them in advance except tourists. (eye roll. Francois did not understand how excited I was to see King Tut). I got there and I could have spent all day looking at the exhibit. I geeked really hard... I made a nice elderly British lady friend who could not understand what the door guys were saying, she heard me speaking English and asked if I would help her. It was all around just delightful.
The New Au Pairs Got Here/ I Made My First Friend:
As you all know, I have been basically alone since August because all my friends left and I was too awkward and afraid to go out to try to meet people. (plus at some points I was casually traveling, sleeping and/or watching project free tv.) So when I found out the new Au Pairs were coming, I flipped out. Each Friday, our agency had a meeting for the new arrival girls to come, meet each other, go through paperwork and all that jazz. I show up to the cafe and I don't see anyone there, except for a couple girls standing around outside so I just awkwardly stand there as well. Finally, I just decide to walk up to one and I ask if she is waiting for the Au Pair Paris meeting. She was, we chat for a bit, and then realize that people are inside the cafe sitting down and we have just been standing outside for like 10 minutes. She has an A (same name actually) as well, who is 4 so we bond over the ridiculous things our 4 year old A's ask us to do. We go inside and I am introduced to the group as 'the girl who has been here for 4 months so if you have questions.....' Insert every question in the planet being thrown at me. I am now terrified that I look like a know-it-all, obnoxious, show-offy brat. I decide that no one in this round of new girls is going to like me because of that. I have a minor panic attack when we leave and people are all saying 'ohhh yeah! I'll email you details, blah blah' wait.... I don't have anyone's email... did an email list go out without my receipt of it? Is everyone already facebook friends without me knowing? Do they read my blog and make fun of it? Do they already have a voodoo doll of me that they poke with pins? Did I say something stupid that they are going to mock later? ahhhhhhhhhh
Thankfully, the agency sent out an email later in the day with everyone's contact info, Katherine and I got in touch and went out that Saturday and luckily got along so well. We've decided we have to stick together because making friends does not seem to be our forte. Here is a link to her blog if you're interested; it's better than mine though, so if you do read hers, you have to pinky swear to keep reading mine or I'll be jealous. http://eauxpair.blogspot.fr/
Guarding Our Hearts:
This is my favorite story ever; even if it makes me seem a little mean. The second "Au Pair Paris" meeting went well, we met some other new girls and one of the girls from last year came to it as well. I guess she is staying in Paris for a second year because she loved her first year so much- good sign for things to come. A group of maybe 8 of us go to get lunch. We sit down in the Tuileries and this girl immediately starts lecturing us about life in Paris. Not in a super condescending way at first, but then almost out of nowhere she goes on a rant about French men. "Infidelity is really, really common here so you all need to watch your backs." "French men fall in love fast and out of love faster." "I just don't want any of you to get hurt. This isn't like dating back home." "Ladies... just please... guard your hearts." She must have repeated "guard your hearts" at least 3 times during her speech. Bless her heart; I know that some guy must have hurt her really badly and I'm sure she wanted to genuinely warn us about the French culture and French men and that niceness cannot be overrated, but it got a little ridiculous. Katherine and I constantly text each other to remind each other to 'guard our hearts.' Best intentions I'm sure. I realize my hypocrisy in giggling about something that someone said to help me while I was terrified people were doing that about me at the first meeting. I rectify that by telling myself that my answers to questions were things like, "your French will be better in 3 months" "you can buy shampoo at the Monoprix or any other grocery type store" and "no I haven't eaten at Quick (the french 'McDonalds') yet" and never anything like that. Upon typing this, I resolve to be a better person.
PS: I lost my voice this weekend due in most part, to what I believe to be my very first French cold. (host dad's remedy: oh you need to wear a scarf, that will keep your neck warm.) That being said, while I lay in bed this week, I plan to do my best to finish blogging the 'bloggable' things from the above list. That is... when I'm not obsessively watching Downton Abbey.
PPS: If you haven't watched Downton Abbey, I highly recommend it.
PPPS: It has been raining for 20 hours straight. I am cold.
Let's throw a quick little update on my life right now since the summer ended:
-The kids went back to school,
-B turned 8 years old, A turned 5 years old, L is turning 14 next week
-The kids hate my rain boots. I do not care.
-I saw the king tut exhibit that I've been dying to see since it was at the Children's Museum and I missed it
-The new Au Pairs arrived
-I made a friend, Katherine.
-Katherine and I learn to "guard our hearts"
-Finally got my french credit card from the bank, promptly overdrew
-Aileen came to visit
-I got into a cab with possibly the worlds only cab driver who can't read/didn't have a GPS and had no idea where he was going - story to follow
-Expats can be ultra condescending
-School started for myself
-I made some more friends!
-Siobhan came back so I have another friend
-I went to nuit blanche
-I bought myself a stove top
-subsequently after buying the stove top, I learned what it means to be poor
-Host mom switched to whole grain baguettes instead of normal baguettes and I am a little bitter about it because they ARE NOT AS DELICIOUS, obviously. Why are they even a thing?
-the COLTS beat the PACKERS - yes please.
-B said the cutest thing in the world to me.
Where to start:
The kids going back to school.
So H has officially moved to 'college' which is like our middle school. She attends the same school as L and I honestly believe that over-night she sprouted the most riDONKulous attitude I have ever encountered. Seriously. The other night at dinner she got yelled at by her dad so she refused to eat; B needed a spoon so host dad said, oh take H's she isn't using it. She yanked it off the table and clutched it to herself crying. I remember being 11. It's not fun. I get her. The point is, now that she goes to college, I don't have to walk her to school anymore so it's just me and the boys. Things seem to be easier with just 2 boys instead of 2 boys and a girl which is confusing to me. A is still in 'ecole maternelle' which is basically pre-school although he is in his last year (I think) and B is still at his normal elementary school. I drop them off, I pick them up. Normal.
King Tut:
Why am I such a loser? I was so excited to see this exhibit that it was unreal. I woke up 2 hours early, I tried to buy tickets in advance but couldn't figure it out because the website was in complicated French and my French friend Francois was like, no, don't do that, it's stupid. Just buy them there. No one buys them in advance except tourists. (eye roll. Francois did not understand how excited I was to see King Tut). I got there and I could have spent all day looking at the exhibit. I geeked really hard... I made a nice elderly British lady friend who could not understand what the door guys were saying, she heard me speaking English and asked if I would help her. It was all around just delightful.
The New Au Pairs Got Here/ I Made My First Friend:
As you all know, I have been basically alone since August because all my friends left and I was too awkward and afraid to go out to try to meet people. (plus at some points I was casually traveling, sleeping and/or watching project free tv.) So when I found out the new Au Pairs were coming, I flipped out. Each Friday, our agency had a meeting for the new arrival girls to come, meet each other, go through paperwork and all that jazz. I show up to the cafe and I don't see anyone there, except for a couple girls standing around outside so I just awkwardly stand there as well. Finally, I just decide to walk up to one and I ask if she is waiting for the Au Pair Paris meeting. She was, we chat for a bit, and then realize that people are inside the cafe sitting down and we have just been standing outside for like 10 minutes. She has an A (same name actually) as well, who is 4 so we bond over the ridiculous things our 4 year old A's ask us to do. We go inside and I am introduced to the group as 'the girl who has been here for 4 months so if you have questions.....' Insert every question in the planet being thrown at me. I am now terrified that I look like a know-it-all, obnoxious, show-offy brat. I decide that no one in this round of new girls is going to like me because of that. I have a minor panic attack when we leave and people are all saying 'ohhh yeah! I'll email you details, blah blah' wait.... I don't have anyone's email... did an email list go out without my receipt of it? Is everyone already facebook friends without me knowing? Do they read my blog and make fun of it? Do they already have a voodoo doll of me that they poke with pins? Did I say something stupid that they are going to mock later? ahhhhhhhhhh
Thankfully, the agency sent out an email later in the day with everyone's contact info, Katherine and I got in touch and went out that Saturday and luckily got along so well. We've decided we have to stick together because making friends does not seem to be our forte. Here is a link to her blog if you're interested; it's better than mine though, so if you do read hers, you have to pinky swear to keep reading mine or I'll be jealous. http://eauxpair.blogspot.fr/
Guarding Our Hearts:
This is my favorite story ever; even if it makes me seem a little mean. The second "Au Pair Paris" meeting went well, we met some other new girls and one of the girls from last year came to it as well. I guess she is staying in Paris for a second year because she loved her first year so much- good sign for things to come. A group of maybe 8 of us go to get lunch. We sit down in the Tuileries and this girl immediately starts lecturing us about life in Paris. Not in a super condescending way at first, but then almost out of nowhere she goes on a rant about French men. "Infidelity is really, really common here so you all need to watch your backs." "French men fall in love fast and out of love faster." "I just don't want any of you to get hurt. This isn't like dating back home." "Ladies... just please... guard your hearts." She must have repeated "guard your hearts" at least 3 times during her speech. Bless her heart; I know that some guy must have hurt her really badly and I'm sure she wanted to genuinely warn us about the French culture and French men and that niceness cannot be overrated, but it got a little ridiculous. Katherine and I constantly text each other to remind each other to 'guard our hearts.' Best intentions I'm sure. I realize my hypocrisy in giggling about something that someone said to help me while I was terrified people were doing that about me at the first meeting. I rectify that by telling myself that my answers to questions were things like, "your French will be better in 3 months" "you can buy shampoo at the Monoprix or any other grocery type store" and "no I haven't eaten at Quick (the french 'McDonalds') yet" and never anything like that. Upon typing this, I resolve to be a better person.
PS: I lost my voice this weekend due in most part, to what I believe to be my very first French cold. (host dad's remedy: oh you need to wear a scarf, that will keep your neck warm.) That being said, while I lay in bed this week, I plan to do my best to finish blogging the 'bloggable' things from the above list. That is... when I'm not obsessively watching Downton Abbey.
PPS: If you haven't watched Downton Abbey, I highly recommend it.
PPPS: It has been raining for 20 hours straight. I am cold.
Friday, September 21, 2012
What I Did On My Summer Vacation
I wrote this all out once and went to hit publish but accidentally closed it without publishing it. Needless to say I became excruciatingly bitter towards the story in general and have had a bias against writing it again so this may not be the most well thought out or well written blog entry to date (not that they are all that well written in the first place).
I came home from the country on a Friday and spent several days with my friends. A couple nice nights out, some shopping and sushi eating with Augusta, Annie and their mom and then some casual evenings spent at WOS. On August 7th, my last friend, Morgan, left Paris. I am in the city of lights, alone. The next day, the teenager flew home from Texas and her dad was driving her to the beach to meet with the rest of the family and he asked if I wanted to tag along. Sure! I love the ocean, why not? I spent 3-4 days at a beach house in Sarzeau in the west of France just relaxing, reading and laying on the beach and generally not doing anything too strenuous.
Let it be known that laying in a hammock with a 4 year old never ends well. I was laying in the hammock, reading a book, and up walks A, asking me what I'm doing and telling me that he really likes my dress. Before I could even thank him for liking my dress he bounds up into the hammock and the next 5 minutes become a balancing act that I ultimately end up losing. Before I know it I am face down on the ground and I've lost my spot in my book. But if that's the worst thing to happen to me all of vacation, I can't really complain.
Also while at the beach there was apparently a meteor shower. JP took me outside to show me the stars and JC came with. JP set me up with a lawn chair and pointed me in the direction of the big dipper. The two men then began telling me everything about stars. Plus, I don't know if you were aware, the French know EVERYTHING.
When I got back to Paris (after many disbelieving looks from the children, YOU ONLY STAYED 4 days! THAT'S NOT A VACATION) I was greeted by the family from Texas who was staying in the host families apartment. Let me tell you, they are some of the nicest people you will ever meet. They asked my recommendation for a side trip out of Paris. I told them I had only ever been to the west of France but it was gorgeous and there were a lot of nice things to do there, so they asked more and I ran upstairs to grab all the pamphlets that Papi had gotten me at the office of tourism (Papi saves the day again). Midway through helping them plan the trip they just stop and invite me along. I politely decline because I don't have enough money to travel with them and they won't take no for an answer and tell me that of course they would pay for everything. Not a single one of them spoke French so I would be doing them a favor by going along.
I agree and it's settled. We plan the following: train to Nantes, spend the day in Nantes, stay the night at a hotel in Nantes, take a boat down the river to St. Nazaire, spend a night in St Nazaire, take a train to La Baule for a day at the beach and then take the train back to Paris after the day at the beach.
We get up the morning we are supposed to leave, head to the train, I get us tickets, we get on the train and we make our way to my second favorite city in France. We get off the train and someone hands me a map and all of the sudden I am Tour-Guide Barbie. I am in charge of getting us to our hotel. Anyone who knows me knows that I couldn't navigate my way out of a paper bag that has an arrow pointing to the exit. I eventually do get us to the hotel, it's not too bad, we drop our stuff and then proceed to wander Nantes, I show them all the cool cute things that I liked from my first trip and they generally really like it there. We stop in at the tourism office to buy tickets for the boat. They tell us that all of the boat tours for the rest of the season had been cancelled. Strike one as a tour guide. Aw crud what are we supposed to do now?
No big deal, we will just take a train from Nantes to St. Nazaire. We go shopping for a little bit, stop and get some food and some ice cream and then head back to the hotel. We get up, have breakfast and then take a train to St. Nazaire. Again, we get off the train and somehow I am the tour guide again except this time I have NEVER BEEN TO THIS CITY and iPhone maps decided it hated me and switched off. I apparently took us a ridiculously "un-scenic" and round about way to get to our hotel, but eventually we made it. We spend a little time exploring, seeing some cute things, shopping, generally just hanging out. We get so lost on the way back from dinner that I have to stop and ask for directions 5 times, and of course, I was leading us in the completely wrong direction. I cried. Strike 2 as a tour guide. The next day is a bank holiday so we planned on going to the beach since everything was going to be closed.
We wake up and it's rainy. Crap. Everything is going to be closed today since it's a bank holiday. Double crap. I don't feel well. Triple Crap. We had a train ticket to get to the beach and needed to buy one to get home from the beach. The ticket office was closed and the machines don't work with American credit cards. So much crap, everything is crap. I am the worst tour guide in the universe. Strikes 3,4 &5. This is the point where the family from TX begins to call me 'Frommers' after the tour guide company/guide books. This family is still so nice, they do not worry about anything and tell me everything will be fine.
We go to the beach anyway. We get there and stop at a little coffee shop to use the internet and try to figure out when/how we can buy train tickets back to Paris. We had bought a deal in St. Nazaire 5 people can travel any TGV train in the Loire Valley for 48 hours for like 50 euro total. This ticket would unfortunately not get us all the way back to Paris and we wouldn't have to mess with the machines that wouldn't take our cards or the ticket booths that weren't open. Brainstorm. We are at a loss. We go back into the ticket office of the train station and by god, it is open. We have left our luggage in St. Nazaire at the hotel so that we wouldn't have to worry about taking it and dragging it all over the beach so we need to find a train from La Baule to St Nazaire then from St Nazaire to Paris. This is absolutely impossible for less than 600 euro for all of us and without us having only an hour to spend at the rainy beach. Strike 6. Why are things never normal in my life? We all pool our ideas and decide to take a later train back to St. Nazaire, book the hotel for one more night and enjoy the time we have at the beach and take the train back to Paris the following day.
We buy the tickets, make the hotel reservation again and I am not joking, the sun comes out of the sky. We walk towards the beach and I see people walking around. I start to look around and I realize against all odds that it's a bank holiday, stores are open! If it starts to rain again, we have something to do! We walk along the beach for quite a while and collect shells. My favorite is a tiny little pink one. It's gorgeous and sunny and I am wearing a cute new jean jacket that the family from Texas bought me as a thank you for helping them. (I know what you're thinking... a jean jacket? What is this 1996? But its so cute and very stylish here...so shut up). We sit down to lunch at a gorgeous little restaurant where the people were so nice and the food was so delicious, we then shop for a while and take a train home and everyone is happy. We go back to the hotel, the concierge points us in the direction of a cute little creperie for dinner and everyone is even happier.
We take the train back to Paris the next day with zero problems. The night we get back, the family tells me that they bought tickets with a tour company to go to Versailles and then to Giverney and they ask if I would like to go along with them as well. I make them swear that it's not an inconvenience and they do, so I agree.
We hop on the little tour bus that drives us to Versailles and I spend the morning obsessing (as always) over Marie Antoinette, my most favorite French person ever. It's a beautiful day, it's hot, the castle is PACKED and then all of the sudden it's time to go to Giverney where Monet lived.
It's a cute short little bus ride to the most beautiful place I've ever seen. Monet saw the house from a train and decided he had to buy it, so he went back as soon as he could and bought the house. He started to design the gardens and laid them out however he wanted with all sorts of foreign plants. There are two sections; a water section and a flower section and I can't even begin to describe how gorgeous it was. You could also go inside his house, which I didn't have enough time to do but absolutely plan on doing when I go back. His house was partially destroyed during the 2nd World War so friends of Monet who were living helped the government redecorate and rebuild the house just as it was when he lived there. Which I think is soooo neat.
We go home and hang out for the next few days. I take them places around Paris that they wanted to see, I babysit the girls so the adults could have a nice night out, and then they left. I then spent the next 5-7 days doing absolutely nothing besides eating pasta, watching a ridiculous amount of Arrested Development, and waiting for the new girls to get here so I could make friends.
I came home from the country on a Friday and spent several days with my friends. A couple nice nights out, some shopping and sushi eating with Augusta, Annie and their mom and then some casual evenings spent at WOS. On August 7th, my last friend, Morgan, left Paris. I am in the city of lights, alone. The next day, the teenager flew home from Texas and her dad was driving her to the beach to meet with the rest of the family and he asked if I wanted to tag along. Sure! I love the ocean, why not? I spent 3-4 days at a beach house in Sarzeau in the west of France just relaxing, reading and laying on the beach and generally not doing anything too strenuous.
Let it be known that laying in a hammock with a 4 year old never ends well. I was laying in the hammock, reading a book, and up walks A, asking me what I'm doing and telling me that he really likes my dress. Before I could even thank him for liking my dress he bounds up into the hammock and the next 5 minutes become a balancing act that I ultimately end up losing. Before I know it I am face down on the ground and I've lost my spot in my book. But if that's the worst thing to happen to me all of vacation, I can't really complain.
Also while at the beach there was apparently a meteor shower. JP took me outside to show me the stars and JC came with. JP set me up with a lawn chair and pointed me in the direction of the big dipper. The two men then began telling me everything about stars. Plus, I don't know if you were aware, the French know EVERYTHING.
When I got back to Paris (after many disbelieving looks from the children, YOU ONLY STAYED 4 days! THAT'S NOT A VACATION) I was greeted by the family from Texas who was staying in the host families apartment. Let me tell you, they are some of the nicest people you will ever meet. They asked my recommendation for a side trip out of Paris. I told them I had only ever been to the west of France but it was gorgeous and there were a lot of nice things to do there, so they asked more and I ran upstairs to grab all the pamphlets that Papi had gotten me at the office of tourism (Papi saves the day again). Midway through helping them plan the trip they just stop and invite me along. I politely decline because I don't have enough money to travel with them and they won't take no for an answer and tell me that of course they would pay for everything. Not a single one of them spoke French so I would be doing them a favor by going along.
I agree and it's settled. We plan the following: train to Nantes, spend the day in Nantes, stay the night at a hotel in Nantes, take a boat down the river to St. Nazaire, spend a night in St Nazaire, take a train to La Baule for a day at the beach and then take the train back to Paris after the day at the beach.
We get up the morning we are supposed to leave, head to the train, I get us tickets, we get on the train and we make our way to my second favorite city in France. We get off the train and someone hands me a map and all of the sudden I am Tour-Guide Barbie. I am in charge of getting us to our hotel. Anyone who knows me knows that I couldn't navigate my way out of a paper bag that has an arrow pointing to the exit. I eventually do get us to the hotel, it's not too bad, we drop our stuff and then proceed to wander Nantes, I show them all the cool cute things that I liked from my first trip and they generally really like it there. We stop in at the tourism office to buy tickets for the boat. They tell us that all of the boat tours for the rest of the season had been cancelled. Strike one as a tour guide. Aw crud what are we supposed to do now?
No big deal, we will just take a train from Nantes to St. Nazaire. We go shopping for a little bit, stop and get some food and some ice cream and then head back to the hotel. We get up, have breakfast and then take a train to St. Nazaire. Again, we get off the train and somehow I am the tour guide again except this time I have NEVER BEEN TO THIS CITY and iPhone maps decided it hated me and switched off. I apparently took us a ridiculously "un-scenic" and round about way to get to our hotel, but eventually we made it. We spend a little time exploring, seeing some cute things, shopping, generally just hanging out. We get so lost on the way back from dinner that I have to stop and ask for directions 5 times, and of course, I was leading us in the completely wrong direction. I cried. Strike 2 as a tour guide. The next day is a bank holiday so we planned on going to the beach since everything was going to be closed.
We wake up and it's rainy. Crap. Everything is going to be closed today since it's a bank holiday. Double crap. I don't feel well. Triple Crap. We had a train ticket to get to the beach and needed to buy one to get home from the beach. The ticket office was closed and the machines don't work with American credit cards. So much crap, everything is crap. I am the worst tour guide in the universe. Strikes 3,4 &5. This is the point where the family from TX begins to call me 'Frommers' after the tour guide company/guide books. This family is still so nice, they do not worry about anything and tell me everything will be fine.
We go to the beach anyway. We get there and stop at a little coffee shop to use the internet and try to figure out when/how we can buy train tickets back to Paris. We had bought a deal in St. Nazaire 5 people can travel any TGV train in the Loire Valley for 48 hours for like 50 euro total. This ticket would unfortunately not get us all the way back to Paris and we wouldn't have to mess with the machines that wouldn't take our cards or the ticket booths that weren't open. Brainstorm. We are at a loss. We go back into the ticket office of the train station and by god, it is open. We have left our luggage in St. Nazaire at the hotel so that we wouldn't have to worry about taking it and dragging it all over the beach so we need to find a train from La Baule to St Nazaire then from St Nazaire to Paris. This is absolutely impossible for less than 600 euro for all of us and without us having only an hour to spend at the rainy beach. Strike 6. Why are things never normal in my life? We all pool our ideas and decide to take a later train back to St. Nazaire, book the hotel for one more night and enjoy the time we have at the beach and take the train back to Paris the following day.
We buy the tickets, make the hotel reservation again and I am not joking, the sun comes out of the sky. We walk towards the beach and I see people walking around. I start to look around and I realize against all odds that it's a bank holiday, stores are open! If it starts to rain again, we have something to do! We walk along the beach for quite a while and collect shells. My favorite is a tiny little pink one. It's gorgeous and sunny and I am wearing a cute new jean jacket that the family from Texas bought me as a thank you for helping them. (I know what you're thinking... a jean jacket? What is this 1996? But its so cute and very stylish here...so shut up). We sit down to lunch at a gorgeous little restaurant where the people were so nice and the food was so delicious, we then shop for a while and take a train home and everyone is happy. We go back to the hotel, the concierge points us in the direction of a cute little creperie for dinner and everyone is even happier.
We take the train back to Paris the next day with zero problems. The night we get back, the family tells me that they bought tickets with a tour company to go to Versailles and then to Giverney and they ask if I would like to go along with them as well. I make them swear that it's not an inconvenience and they do, so I agree.
We hop on the little tour bus that drives us to Versailles and I spend the morning obsessing (as always) over Marie Antoinette, my most favorite French person ever. It's a beautiful day, it's hot, the castle is PACKED and then all of the sudden it's time to go to Giverney where Monet lived.
It's a cute short little bus ride to the most beautiful place I've ever seen. Monet saw the house from a train and decided he had to buy it, so he went back as soon as he could and bought the house. He started to design the gardens and laid them out however he wanted with all sorts of foreign plants. There are two sections; a water section and a flower section and I can't even begin to describe how gorgeous it was. You could also go inside his house, which I didn't have enough time to do but absolutely plan on doing when I go back. His house was partially destroyed during the 2nd World War so friends of Monet who were living helped the government redecorate and rebuild the house just as it was when he lived there. Which I think is soooo neat.
We go home and hang out for the next few days. I take them places around Paris that they wanted to see, I babysit the girls so the adults could have a nice night out, and then they left. I then spent the next 5-7 days doing absolutely nothing besides eating pasta, watching a ridiculous amount of Arrested Development, and waiting for the new girls to get here so I could make friends.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
4 Juillet
Today is the rainy day where I recount all my odds and ends stories that I keep forgetting. This is 4th of July:
I spent all of the 3rd of July grocery shopping. I am making lunch, dirt pudding and apple pie for all of the kids and myself for lunch and one of L's friends. I bought the following: hamburger meat, hamburger buns, chips, Oreo's, apples, chocolate pudding, gummy worms, and I FOUND SPARKLERS! So I wake up so totally stoaked.
I put on a red and white striped dress and put a red white and blue bow in my hair. (let's be honest, this surprises no one) I go downstairs and the boys are watching cartoons as I unpack my groceries. When the movie is over, I tell them that they have to wear red, white and blue today, and I am not accepting no for an answer.
They each pull out shirts with American flags on them. Of course they do. So they get dressed and we play for a little while. They want to play card games, I say okay. They want to play war. I crack up. I obviously win, it's in my blood to win. I'm American and it's 4th of July plus, the kids gave up half way through. Hah just kidding about that last part.
But while we were playing cards I found a fantaaaastic playlist on fratmusic of 4th of July music so I play it and the kids start dancing and B tells me he loves American music. Of course you do B, that's because it's the greatest in the world.
Jimi Hendrix's star spangled banner comes on and I tell them about how he was the best guitarist who ever lived, and that sometimes he would play behind his back or with his teeth. B does not believe me and wants proof so for the next 15 minutes I YouTube videos of Jimi Hendrix playing with his teeth.
This is all B talks about for the rest of the afternoon.
I make lunch, hamburgers, chips, brown sugar cooked carrots and we sit down to eat. "these are the best carrots I've ever eaten" "that's because they are mostly sugar and butter"
We then make the easy kind of dirt pudding which is just sprinkling smashed Oreo's in top of pudding and putting gummy worms on top. The boys thought this was the greatest snack on the planet. The girls were less impressed but still liked it.
Then in the afternoon I taught them how to make an apple pie. Nothing fancy, just the crust recipe from my mom and apple slices cinnamon sugar and butter filling basically. By the time it was ready A was just standing at the oven jumping up and down, but I told him we had to save it for dinner. He has never looked at me with more sadness in his eyes.
We hung around for the rest of the afternoon and played like normal. The mom came home and made dinner -and finally it was time for the pie. A sprinted into the kitchen to get it, I sliced it and everyone got a piece.
L took one bite and screamed "oh my god" I was instantly concerned, this is the first thing I've made here, did I not correctly translate from cups to grams? My heart starts pounding.
"THIS IS THE BEST THING I HAVE EVER EATEN IN MY LIFE"
Phew. I took a bite and honestly? It wasn't my best. But every single one f them said it was so good and they begged me to make it again. I even got a text from host dad (who was out of town on business) saying "heard you make an amazing apple pie that I missed, gonna need you to make it again :)" haha deal.
I then brought out the big guns. Sparklers. The boys about had a fit. "it's on fire?! We get to hold it?!" I have the most adorable photos of them having the time of their life on the terrace with these sparklers.
I say goodnight to the kids and sprint to WOS for the 4th of July party where Sio and Morgan has been terrorizing people for the last few hours. Matty took my picture because I was wearing such a patriotic outfit and he offers me a drink. I turn around to see Morgan telling some guy that he was not good looking even though he was American and Sio standing on a barstool requesting "proud to be an American."
We did not make any friends that night.
I spent all of the 3rd of July grocery shopping. I am making lunch, dirt pudding and apple pie for all of the kids and myself for lunch and one of L's friends. I bought the following: hamburger meat, hamburger buns, chips, Oreo's, apples, chocolate pudding, gummy worms, and I FOUND SPARKLERS! So I wake up so totally stoaked.
I put on a red and white striped dress and put a red white and blue bow in my hair. (let's be honest, this surprises no one) I go downstairs and the boys are watching cartoons as I unpack my groceries. When the movie is over, I tell them that they have to wear red, white and blue today, and I am not accepting no for an answer.
They each pull out shirts with American flags on them. Of course they do. So they get dressed and we play for a little while. They want to play card games, I say okay. They want to play war. I crack up. I obviously win, it's in my blood to win. I'm American and it's 4th of July plus, the kids gave up half way through. Hah just kidding about that last part.
But while we were playing cards I found a fantaaaastic playlist on fratmusic of 4th of July music so I play it and the kids start dancing and B tells me he loves American music. Of course you do B, that's because it's the greatest in the world.
Jimi Hendrix's star spangled banner comes on and I tell them about how he was the best guitarist who ever lived, and that sometimes he would play behind his back or with his teeth. B does not believe me and wants proof so for the next 15 minutes I YouTube videos of Jimi Hendrix playing with his teeth.
This is all B talks about for the rest of the afternoon.
I make lunch, hamburgers, chips, brown sugar cooked carrots and we sit down to eat. "these are the best carrots I've ever eaten" "that's because they are mostly sugar and butter"
We then make the easy kind of dirt pudding which is just sprinkling smashed Oreo's in top of pudding and putting gummy worms on top. The boys thought this was the greatest snack on the planet. The girls were less impressed but still liked it.
Then in the afternoon I taught them how to make an apple pie. Nothing fancy, just the crust recipe from my mom and apple slices cinnamon sugar and butter filling basically. By the time it was ready A was just standing at the oven jumping up and down, but I told him we had to save it for dinner. He has never looked at me with more sadness in his eyes.
We hung around for the rest of the afternoon and played like normal. The mom came home and made dinner -and finally it was time for the pie. A sprinted into the kitchen to get it, I sliced it and everyone got a piece.
L took one bite and screamed "oh my god" I was instantly concerned, this is the first thing I've made here, did I not correctly translate from cups to grams? My heart starts pounding.
"THIS IS THE BEST THING I HAVE EVER EATEN IN MY LIFE"
Phew. I took a bite and honestly? It wasn't my best. But every single one f them said it was so good and they begged me to make it again. I even got a text from host dad (who was out of town on business) saying "heard you make an amazing apple pie that I missed, gonna need you to make it again :)" haha deal.
I then brought out the big guns. Sparklers. The boys about had a fit. "it's on fire?! We get to hold it?!" I have the most adorable photos of them having the time of their life on the terrace with these sparklers.
I say goodnight to the kids and sprint to WOS for the 4th of July party where Sio and Morgan has been terrorizing people for the last few hours. Matty took my picture because I was wearing such a patriotic outfit and he offers me a drink. I turn around to see Morgan telling some guy that he was not good looking even though he was American and Sio standing on a barstool requesting "proud to be an American."
We did not make any friends that night.
The "Nantes-guy-on-a-bench" story
Only about a thousand years later am I sitting down to write this story. I am subtitling it: how to lie to the French.
So I go to Nantes for a day while I was in the country, because...why not? After sightseeing and general goofing around, I decide to get some ice cream and kill some time before My train. I find a little ice cream shop, get a double scoop cone and walk until I find a bench. I sit down and mind my own business, just...eating my ice cream.
I see a guy turn the corner, eye my bench and sit down next to me. I think nothing of this. He is wearing acceptable clothes, he seems clean and smiles as he sits down, so I assume he is neither drunk nor homeless so I am not concerned. After a minute or two he asks me what time it is.
I pull out my phone and start to say 14h30, he says, before I even finish my thought, you are absolutely gorgeous. I say thank you, and go back to awkwardly eating my ice cream and not making eye contact. He then scoots a little closer on the bench and asks me if I'm British. I see no point in telling this man anything about myself and I'm hoping that he will see my disinterest and leave me to eat my ice cream in peace so I just say, yep I'm british. (lie #1) he then asks if I have a boyfriend.
-Yes, I do, in fact. (lie #2)
-do you want to go get a drink with me?
-Ummm I can't. I just said I have a boyfriend (reinforce the lie)
-well he isn't here. You could be my girlfriend. How old are you?
-27 (lie #3)
- me too.
- cool....
- so what does your boyfriend do?
-he works in finance.(details about lie #2) he is moving here tomorrow. We're going to live together.
(I seriously don't want to leave this bench because it's in a perfect location, lots of shade, pretty view and I still have 1/3 of an ice cream come to eat so I'm hoping this seals the deal on his realizing I am NOT interested.)
- but he isn't here right now. You are so pretty. Please get a drink with me.
- i'm sorry. He wouldn't like it.
- can we just be friends?
(I realize there is no saving my perfect bench location and that I would have saved myself time and awkwardness had I just gotten up in the first place. I wave a white flag.)
- I'm sorry I have to go pick up my children (lie 4).
- you have kids?
- yep I'm a mother of 4 (lie #5) Bye!
And I walked away as fast as I could without seeming suspicious, holding a melting ice cream cone and cursing my inability to be rude to strangers.
So I go to Nantes for a day while I was in the country, because...why not? After sightseeing and general goofing around, I decide to get some ice cream and kill some time before My train. I find a little ice cream shop, get a double scoop cone and walk until I find a bench. I sit down and mind my own business, just...eating my ice cream.
I see a guy turn the corner, eye my bench and sit down next to me. I think nothing of this. He is wearing acceptable clothes, he seems clean and smiles as he sits down, so I assume he is neither drunk nor homeless so I am not concerned. After a minute or two he asks me what time it is.
I pull out my phone and start to say 14h30, he says, before I even finish my thought, you are absolutely gorgeous. I say thank you, and go back to awkwardly eating my ice cream and not making eye contact. He then scoots a little closer on the bench and asks me if I'm British. I see no point in telling this man anything about myself and I'm hoping that he will see my disinterest and leave me to eat my ice cream in peace so I just say, yep I'm british. (lie #1) he then asks if I have a boyfriend.
-Yes, I do, in fact. (lie #2)
-do you want to go get a drink with me?
-Ummm I can't. I just said I have a boyfriend (reinforce the lie)
-well he isn't here. You could be my girlfriend. How old are you?
-27 (lie #3)
- me too.
- cool....
- so what does your boyfriend do?
-he works in finance.(details about lie #2) he is moving here tomorrow. We're going to live together.
(I seriously don't want to leave this bench because it's in a perfect location, lots of shade, pretty view and I still have 1/3 of an ice cream come to eat so I'm hoping this seals the deal on his realizing I am NOT interested.)
- but he isn't here right now. You are so pretty. Please get a drink with me.
- i'm sorry. He wouldn't like it.
- can we just be friends?
(I realize there is no saving my perfect bench location and that I would have saved myself time and awkwardness had I just gotten up in the first place. I wave a white flag.)
- I'm sorry I have to go pick up my children (lie 4).
- you have kids?
- yep I'm a mother of 4 (lie #5) Bye!
And I walked away as fast as I could without seeming suspicious, holding a melting ice cream cone and cursing my inability to be rude to strangers.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
C'est vrai! C'est verte!
At lunch today I made A eat the tiniest spoonful of pea's I have ever seen in my life as part of a compromise. IE. I wanted him to eat about 1/4th a cup and he wanted to eat none. My negotiating skills are going to take some practice.
He ate the spoonful, and then helped me clear the table. He then walked into the bathroom where I heard him shout
AMANDAAAAA
Yes, A? What can I do for you?
AMANDA, my pee is green.
No, it's not.
Yes it is. It's green from eating too many pea's. It's true! It's green!
Insert eye roll.
He ate the spoonful, and then helped me clear the table. He then walked into the bathroom where I heard him shout
AMANDAAAAA
Yes, A? What can I do for you?
AMANDA, my pee is green.
No, it's not.
Yes it is. It's green from eating too many pea's. It's true! It's green!
Insert eye roll.
Sunday, August 19, 2012
The Office of Found Items & the cutest thing I've ever seen
From my previous post, you know that Sunday morning of my bartending weekend, I lost my iPhone. This is terrifying because all of my contacts, email addresses, regular addresses, passwords, credit card information and more is all saved to that phone. By losing it, I lost valuable connection with the world, including my ability to facetime etc. Needless to say, when I realized I lost it, I began to sob.
While discussing my loss with the various people at WOS bar that Sunday, I lost any hope I had of finding it. Every single french person said "you lost your iphone in a cab? it is long gone." Continue sobbing. I email my parents and let them know what happened and that I am going to call all the cab companies in Paris to try to find my phone because of course, I do not remember what kind of cab it is that I took.
Starting this plan in motion, I realize that there are 20 something cab companies in Paris. joy. So I start googling "I lost my iphone in Paris, what should I do" out of desperation and sleep deprivation. I find the Paris craigs list classifieds lost and found section. No dice, but someone did find a nice wedding ring on the steps of the Opera that they would gladly return if someone can describe it.
My next google query "paris lost and found" takes me to the Canadian Embassy's website explaining that Paris has a very intricate Lost and Found system. Cab's are supposed to turn in any found items to their dispatcher and after a few days the dispatcher is supposed to turn in any unclaimed items to "Le service des objets trouvés" which is a subset department of the French Police. (website in french located http://www.prefecturedepolice.interieur.gouv.fr/La-prefecture-de-police/Objets-trouves/Le-service-des-objets-trouves just in case you were interested) This is translated as the Service of Found Items; which has happily in my life become known as a magical place that seems like it stems from a Harry Potter Novel.
They keep items worth less than 50 euro for 3 months and worth more than 50 euro for a year and 1 day. I quickly email them, give them my name, address, phone number and a description of my iPhone and tell them I lost it in a cab in the 5th Arr. and I desperately need it back. They request the IMEI number in the emails, but I tell them I do not have the IMEI number because it is written on the box in the US, but inside the leopard print case should be 250 dollars worth of monopoly money that a guy named Guillaume insisted I take the night before as a tip. Charming. Sorry, Found Items office. They tell me they will let me know in a maximum of 10 days if they found my phone, until then I should try to find the IMEI number.
I get the number from my mom, and finally decide to start calling cab companies. I call the first one and it is an epic failure. I do not know enough French to do this, I am HORRIBLE on the phone in French and I cannot understand a single thing anyone is saying. I voice this frustration to another friend named Guillaume (very popular french name) and he says he will help me call the cab companies and that it will go much faster since he actually speaks French. I punch him.
We call the first cab companies with zero luck, but they all say the same thing. If one of our drivers found it, it's at the office of found items. bahhh okay thanks.
I spend the next 4 days iPhone-less and miserable, trying to contemplate life without FaceTime. Every time I begin this thought, my eyes well up with tears. I watched the entire series of Arrested Development instead of thinking about life without iPhone.
I finally get an email a few days later that says an item appearing to belong to me has been located at the office of found items, to retrieve it I need to bring 11 euro, the printed out copy of the email saying it had been located and the IMEI number. I instantly started to cry from thankfulness. In one of the cities most famous for pick pocketing and petty crime, I had an honest cab driver who followed the rules and turned in my cell phone.
I print the email, write down the number, google the address, grab 11 euros and head straight for the office. I finally found it, inside the police department in an area of Paris that I had never been to (terrifying) and I have to go through a metal detector and a bag search to go inside. I don't care. I would let them TSA style cavity search me if it meant getting my iPhone back. I walk upstairs into a room full of smiling government employees and step in line behind a woman about 55 who can't stop smiling either.
Why is everyone smiling? It's Paris. People don't smile here. What is going on? I have decided that the Service of Found Items is actually the happiest place on earth. I walk up to a window and hand her the email print out. She hands me a number and directs me to sit down on these wooden benches that face about 7 glass windows. There are probably 20 people sitting around me, but my number is only maybe 10 away. There is an anxious teenage boy, an obviously American couple, a super fabulous gay man in a belly shirt that says "army" (he is my favorite), the older woman from in front of me in line, a man in a business suit, me and then some other people whose items I didn't notice.
The American couple's number is called, she lost her wallet complete with passport, drivers license, credit cards and money. They tell her to sit back down and hang tight. Teenage boy lost his backpack, fabulous gay man and older woman both lost their wallets and some other people ask about other items that I don't pay attention to and then it is my turn. I walk up and hand the smiling man my email. He asks for some sort of identification and I hand him my Indiana Drivers License. He has no idea what this is. He asks me about it. I explain that its a drivers license. He laughs. Most people in France don't have those. (mental note to pay more attention when walking) I give him the IMEI number and 11 Euros and he tells me to have a seat.
Finally the man in the suit walks up to the window and begins describing something that he has lost. I don't listen because I don't want to be rude and I am also too excited about the prospect of getting my iPhone back but then I realize everyone else in the room is paying attention to his description. The man behind the window walks away and comes back holding something that I can't see what it is. The man's face lights up and then he instantly blushes. He tells the man working that that is indeed what he was looking for, gives him the 11 euros and walks out holding a tattered stuffed animal, obviously belonging to a child of his who had absent mindedly left it somewhere. This is what amazes me. Some French person came across this ragged stuffed animal (I think it used to be a dog) with squish lines through the stomach where it had been hugged to death and instead of thinking, gross this toy is disgusting and throwing it away, realized that it was loved by someone, and turned it in to the office of found items, where a dad had enough love for the child to go retrieve it on his lunch break. Every single person in that office stopped and did a collective 'awwww' and a sigh. It was undoubtedly the cutest thing I have ever seen.
Finally, one of the men behind the windows gets up and goes around a corner. He starts calling people up to get their items. The wallets are all found, including paperwork, money and all credit cards. The teenage boy got his backpack back and then it was me. He brings around a small thing wrapped in white paper and I see a little leopard print sticking out. MY iPHONEEEEEE. I don't even wait for him to call my name I just sprint to the counter and jump up and down like a little kid at a candy shop window. He tells me how extremely and incredibly lucky I am and cautions me to be more careful. I would have jumped over the counter and kissed him if there were not a glass barrier (probably placed there after someone like me had that impulse). I wished everyone in the office a nice day and half walked half skipped out the door. It started to rain the second I got out the door. I didn't care.
When I told my mom the story she said "Well this says two things about France; 1. the french are really superior and 2. Socialism works"
I don't know if we could go thaaaaat far :)
Stay tuned for:
1. the nantes guy on the bench story AKA how to lie to french people
2. the beach with the host family; subtitle: pretending I don't know anything about stars
3. becoming frommers; how I became a tour guide
While discussing my loss with the various people at WOS bar that Sunday, I lost any hope I had of finding it. Every single french person said "you lost your iphone in a cab? it is long gone." Continue sobbing. I email my parents and let them know what happened and that I am going to call all the cab companies in Paris to try to find my phone because of course, I do not remember what kind of cab it is that I took.
Starting this plan in motion, I realize that there are 20 something cab companies in Paris. joy. So I start googling "I lost my iphone in Paris, what should I do" out of desperation and sleep deprivation. I find the Paris craigs list classifieds lost and found section. No dice, but someone did find a nice wedding ring on the steps of the Opera that they would gladly return if someone can describe it.
My next google query "paris lost and found" takes me to the Canadian Embassy's website explaining that Paris has a very intricate Lost and Found system. Cab's are supposed to turn in any found items to their dispatcher and after a few days the dispatcher is supposed to turn in any unclaimed items to "Le service des objets trouvés" which is a subset department of the French Police. (website in french located http://www.prefecturedepolice.interieur.gouv.fr/La-prefecture-de-police/Objets-trouves/Le-service-des-objets-trouves just in case you were interested) This is translated as the Service of Found Items; which has happily in my life become known as a magical place that seems like it stems from a Harry Potter Novel.
They keep items worth less than 50 euro for 3 months and worth more than 50 euro for a year and 1 day. I quickly email them, give them my name, address, phone number and a description of my iPhone and tell them I lost it in a cab in the 5th Arr. and I desperately need it back. They request the IMEI number in the emails, but I tell them I do not have the IMEI number because it is written on the box in the US, but inside the leopard print case should be 250 dollars worth of monopoly money that a guy named Guillaume insisted I take the night before as a tip. Charming. Sorry, Found Items office. They tell me they will let me know in a maximum of 10 days if they found my phone, until then I should try to find the IMEI number.
I get the number from my mom, and finally decide to start calling cab companies. I call the first one and it is an epic failure. I do not know enough French to do this, I am HORRIBLE on the phone in French and I cannot understand a single thing anyone is saying. I voice this frustration to another friend named Guillaume (very popular french name) and he says he will help me call the cab companies and that it will go much faster since he actually speaks French. I punch him.
We call the first cab companies with zero luck, but they all say the same thing. If one of our drivers found it, it's at the office of found items. bahhh okay thanks.
I spend the next 4 days iPhone-less and miserable, trying to contemplate life without FaceTime. Every time I begin this thought, my eyes well up with tears. I watched the entire series of Arrested Development instead of thinking about life without iPhone.
I finally get an email a few days later that says an item appearing to belong to me has been located at the office of found items, to retrieve it I need to bring 11 euro, the printed out copy of the email saying it had been located and the IMEI number. I instantly started to cry from thankfulness. In one of the cities most famous for pick pocketing and petty crime, I had an honest cab driver who followed the rules and turned in my cell phone.
I print the email, write down the number, google the address, grab 11 euros and head straight for the office. I finally found it, inside the police department in an area of Paris that I had never been to (terrifying) and I have to go through a metal detector and a bag search to go inside. I don't care. I would let them TSA style cavity search me if it meant getting my iPhone back. I walk upstairs into a room full of smiling government employees and step in line behind a woman about 55 who can't stop smiling either.
Why is everyone smiling? It's Paris. People don't smile here. What is going on? I have decided that the Service of Found Items is actually the happiest place on earth. I walk up to a window and hand her the email print out. She hands me a number and directs me to sit down on these wooden benches that face about 7 glass windows. There are probably 20 people sitting around me, but my number is only maybe 10 away. There is an anxious teenage boy, an obviously American couple, a super fabulous gay man in a belly shirt that says "army" (he is my favorite), the older woman from in front of me in line, a man in a business suit, me and then some other people whose items I didn't notice.
The American couple's number is called, she lost her wallet complete with passport, drivers license, credit cards and money. They tell her to sit back down and hang tight. Teenage boy lost his backpack, fabulous gay man and older woman both lost their wallets and some other people ask about other items that I don't pay attention to and then it is my turn. I walk up and hand the smiling man my email. He asks for some sort of identification and I hand him my Indiana Drivers License. He has no idea what this is. He asks me about it. I explain that its a drivers license. He laughs. Most people in France don't have those. (mental note to pay more attention when walking) I give him the IMEI number and 11 Euros and he tells me to have a seat.
Finally the man in the suit walks up to the window and begins describing something that he has lost. I don't listen because I don't want to be rude and I am also too excited about the prospect of getting my iPhone back but then I realize everyone else in the room is paying attention to his description. The man behind the window walks away and comes back holding something that I can't see what it is. The man's face lights up and then he instantly blushes. He tells the man working that that is indeed what he was looking for, gives him the 11 euros and walks out holding a tattered stuffed animal, obviously belonging to a child of his who had absent mindedly left it somewhere. This is what amazes me. Some French person came across this ragged stuffed animal (I think it used to be a dog) with squish lines through the stomach where it had been hugged to death and instead of thinking, gross this toy is disgusting and throwing it away, realized that it was loved by someone, and turned it in to the office of found items, where a dad had enough love for the child to go retrieve it on his lunch break. Every single person in that office stopped and did a collective 'awwww' and a sigh. It was undoubtedly the cutest thing I have ever seen.
Finally, one of the men behind the windows gets up and goes around a corner. He starts calling people up to get their items. The wallets are all found, including paperwork, money and all credit cards. The teenage boy got his backpack back and then it was me. He brings around a small thing wrapped in white paper and I see a little leopard print sticking out. MY iPHONEEEEEE. I don't even wait for him to call my name I just sprint to the counter and jump up and down like a little kid at a candy shop window. He tells me how extremely and incredibly lucky I am and cautions me to be more careful. I would have jumped over the counter and kissed him if there were not a glass barrier (probably placed there after someone like me had that impulse). I wished everyone in the office a nice day and half walked half skipped out the door. It started to rain the second I got out the door. I didn't care.
When I told my mom the story she said "Well this says two things about France; 1. the french are really superior and 2. Socialism works"
I don't know if we could go thaaaaat far :)
Stay tuned for:
1. the nantes guy on the bench story AKA how to lie to french people
2. the beach with the host family; subtitle: pretending I don't know anything about stars
3. becoming frommers; how I became a tour guide
last days in the country and my foray into bartending
so for my last 2 days in the country with the kids, I kinda just hung around with the exception of my trip to La Baule which is a 9km beach (my numbers have ranged from 7-9km because the french can't seem to make up their minds about how long it actually is.) This story isn't all that exceptional, I took the train to the beach in the morning, walked to the beach, laid down in the sand, napped for a while, swam in the ocean, realized I was getting burnt, bought sunscreen and lunch, laid on the beach again, took the train home. Just a normal day at the beach.
I took the train home on the last day and the kids just looked at me wide-eyed. A asked me where I was going and then gave me about 100 thousand kisses so I had a nice coat of slobber on my face for the train ride home; I took the first class train back to Paris (so swanky).
I hung around Paris for a few days and on one of these occasions, I went to WOS with Morgan. We were just sitting there enjoying our evening when the owner asks what I am doing the next night. With no other plans and Morgan having to babysit, I said 'nothing, why?' and it was explained to me that the bar was having a big party for the french running of the bulls called bayonne and that they needed an extra hand because most of the other bartenders were busy.
Before he could finish his sentence I had screamed yes in his face because I was probably more excited than I should have been. Okay said the owner, you have to wear all white and red because that's what people wear to the bayonne, told me to be there at 7pm and I quickly agreed and started planning my outfit.
Here are the things I did not anticipate:
1. the fact that I have literally zero clue how to make a single cocktail, mixed drink or even pour a beer correctly from the taps
2. the fact that by standing behind the bar, people were going to give me orders, some of those people only spoke french, and I had not learned the french words for 'shot' 'pint vs demi' and various other typical bar orders
3. no one taught me how to open the register, so i just was holding wads of money and desperately begging the other bartenders to open the drawer for me
4. no one told me that if the person doesn't hand you money right away, you make a ticket and stick it in the jar with their name on it (a lot of people drank for free because of me)
with none of that in mind, I show up at WOS at 6, because I wasn't doing anything else. I was put in charge of cutting up fruit to make sangria, and then slicing a bunch of cheese for cheese and ham plates. The owner told me it was going to be my job to serve sangria when people asked, the ham and cheese plates when people asked, to clear glasses that were empty and to walk around and make sure people were having fun. (Guess he pegged me as a social butterfly)
Easy enough! the night starts slow and I am just pouring Sangria and chatting with the few people I know who are cycling through the bar and chatting with people I don't know, trying to get them to order sangria. Sales skills. This works well until we hit road block 1. Someone orders Sangria and a Long Island. Now my experiences with Long Islands are atypical. I believe I would be frowned upon in Europe if I made a Kilroy's style Long Island and charged people 2 euro. meh. So I have to catch the eye of the only other bartender there at the time, and ask her to make one.
This girl bartender does not like me. She is from another midwest state, also blonde, and I think she thinks I am stepping on her toes by working at WOS for the night. She introduces me to people as "the other blonde american who works here now" this does not strike me well. I pour sangria and move on until the person hands me a full on handful of cash which leads me to roadblock 3. How do I open the register? I have to ask the bartender who dislikes me. Instead of showing me which would have saved both of us time and frustration in the long run, she just hits a bunch of buttons, the drawer opens and I put the money in. I make the change and turn to hand it to the guy who paid me in the first place. He tells me I can keep it.
I just made my first 2 euro as a bartender. Officially professional. All of the sudden there were a million people in the bar and it was getting intensely crowded. Two other bartenders show up and I am instantly in the way, so I start collecting empty glasses and walking around making sure that people are still having a good time. This seems to go well. People like to mess with new bartenders. Two british rugby players offered me a job cleaning their apartment for an hour a week for 20 euros. I considered this offer for quite some time.
I spend the rest of my evening avoiding being behind the bar because I am in the way, useless at making drinks, incapable of accepting payment and altogether annoying the seasoned bartenders. The owner is unaware of this, or just doesn't care. He is happy. He asks me to work the next day.
The next day goes way better because there is not a theme party and I worked during the day. Working during the day meant this: got early breakfast with people who hang out at WOS frequently, lost my iphone in the cab that I took back to WOS (this story coming next) while working: Owner poured the drinks, I carried them to whoever ordered them, took money, handed it to owner and then checked on people every so often. In between the scattered customers (not too many on a sunday afternoon) we played 'petanque' which is usually played outdoors by people who are 100, but we had an indoor set.
It's a lot like marbles only the balls are like 10 times as big. You throw a little orange ball and then you through bigger balls and try to land them as close to the orange ball as possible and/or knock people away from the orange ball. It was kinda fun, really difficult to play in a super skinny bar, but altogether a pretty good time.
This day bartending went way better, this is the day I learned about making a ticket and sticking it in the jar with the persons name, I learned how to open the register (then promptly forgot) and one of the bartenders even showed me how to close down the bar - hot water on the taps, how to run the dishwasher and all that jazz- she then split all the tips with me that night. I made 15 whole euro. I decide I like this girl bartender. She is from Poland and awesome.
I go home, decide that bartending in that capacity is probably not going to be my strong suit, but I would love to try again with slightly more training. I sleep all of Monday.
I took the train home on the last day and the kids just looked at me wide-eyed. A asked me where I was going and then gave me about 100 thousand kisses so I had a nice coat of slobber on my face for the train ride home; I took the first class train back to Paris (so swanky).
I hung around Paris for a few days and on one of these occasions, I went to WOS with Morgan. We were just sitting there enjoying our evening when the owner asks what I am doing the next night. With no other plans and Morgan having to babysit, I said 'nothing, why?' and it was explained to me that the bar was having a big party for the french running of the bulls called bayonne and that they needed an extra hand because most of the other bartenders were busy.
Before he could finish his sentence I had screamed yes in his face because I was probably more excited than I should have been. Okay said the owner, you have to wear all white and red because that's what people wear to the bayonne, told me to be there at 7pm and I quickly agreed and started planning my outfit.
Here are the things I did not anticipate:
1. the fact that I have literally zero clue how to make a single cocktail, mixed drink or even pour a beer correctly from the taps
2. the fact that by standing behind the bar, people were going to give me orders, some of those people only spoke french, and I had not learned the french words for 'shot' 'pint vs demi' and various other typical bar orders
3. no one taught me how to open the register, so i just was holding wads of money and desperately begging the other bartenders to open the drawer for me
4. no one told me that if the person doesn't hand you money right away, you make a ticket and stick it in the jar with their name on it (a lot of people drank for free because of me)
with none of that in mind, I show up at WOS at 6, because I wasn't doing anything else. I was put in charge of cutting up fruit to make sangria, and then slicing a bunch of cheese for cheese and ham plates. The owner told me it was going to be my job to serve sangria when people asked, the ham and cheese plates when people asked, to clear glasses that were empty and to walk around and make sure people were having fun. (Guess he pegged me as a social butterfly)
Easy enough! the night starts slow and I am just pouring Sangria and chatting with the few people I know who are cycling through the bar and chatting with people I don't know, trying to get them to order sangria. Sales skills. This works well until we hit road block 1. Someone orders Sangria and a Long Island. Now my experiences with Long Islands are atypical. I believe I would be frowned upon in Europe if I made a Kilroy's style Long Island and charged people 2 euro. meh. So I have to catch the eye of the only other bartender there at the time, and ask her to make one.
This girl bartender does not like me. She is from another midwest state, also blonde, and I think she thinks I am stepping on her toes by working at WOS for the night. She introduces me to people as "the other blonde american who works here now" this does not strike me well. I pour sangria and move on until the person hands me a full on handful of cash which leads me to roadblock 3. How do I open the register? I have to ask the bartender who dislikes me. Instead of showing me which would have saved both of us time and frustration in the long run, she just hits a bunch of buttons, the drawer opens and I put the money in. I make the change and turn to hand it to the guy who paid me in the first place. He tells me I can keep it.
I just made my first 2 euro as a bartender. Officially professional. All of the sudden there were a million people in the bar and it was getting intensely crowded. Two other bartenders show up and I am instantly in the way, so I start collecting empty glasses and walking around making sure that people are still having a good time. This seems to go well. People like to mess with new bartenders. Two british rugby players offered me a job cleaning their apartment for an hour a week for 20 euros. I considered this offer for quite some time.
I spend the rest of my evening avoiding being behind the bar because I am in the way, useless at making drinks, incapable of accepting payment and altogether annoying the seasoned bartenders. The owner is unaware of this, or just doesn't care. He is happy. He asks me to work the next day.
The next day goes way better because there is not a theme party and I worked during the day. Working during the day meant this: got early breakfast with people who hang out at WOS frequently, lost my iphone in the cab that I took back to WOS (this story coming next) while working: Owner poured the drinks, I carried them to whoever ordered them, took money, handed it to owner and then checked on people every so often. In between the scattered customers (not too many on a sunday afternoon) we played 'petanque' which is usually played outdoors by people who are 100, but we had an indoor set.
It's a lot like marbles only the balls are like 10 times as big. You throw a little orange ball and then you through bigger balls and try to land them as close to the orange ball as possible and/or knock people away from the orange ball. It was kinda fun, really difficult to play in a super skinny bar, but altogether a pretty good time.
This day bartending went way better, this is the day I learned about making a ticket and sticking it in the jar with the persons name, I learned how to open the register (then promptly forgot) and one of the bartenders even showed me how to close down the bar - hot water on the taps, how to run the dishwasher and all that jazz- she then split all the tips with me that night. I made 15 whole euro. I decide I like this girl bartender. She is from Poland and awesome.
I go home, decide that bartending in that capacity is probably not going to be my strong suit, but I would love to try again with slightly more training. I sleep all of Monday.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Pictures from the country part 2
Again: no clue why the order is the way it is:
#1 the giant church of Nantes, very similar looking to notre dame. Inside are the tombs of famous people
#2 the tomb of Anne of Bretagne's parents
#3 The castle belonging to Anne of Bretagne
#4 la Baule, 8.5 km beach, lots of women casually topless, I don't think i will ever get used to that
#5 inside the church at Nantes
#6 part of the 17 tourret castle in angers
#7 and #8 more photos of the castle of angers
#9 the inside of the church built within the castle of angers once used as a holding tank for prisoners of war
#10 Vineyard built on one of the walkways inside the castle at angers
#11 inside the crypts under the church in Nantes
#12 another casual view of the castle of Angers and part of the church
#13 just another section of crypts. Normal.
Stay tuned for the story of how I lost my iPhone and the miracle by which it was found. Also included will be "the cutest thing I have ever seen in my life"
#1 the giant church of Nantes, very similar looking to notre dame. Inside are the tombs of famous people
#2 the tomb of Anne of Bretagne's parents
#3 The castle belonging to Anne of Bretagne
#4 la Baule, 8.5 km beach, lots of women casually topless, I don't think i will ever get used to that
#5 inside the church at Nantes
#6 part of the 17 tourret castle in angers
#7 and #8 more photos of the castle of angers
#9 the inside of the church built within the castle of angers once used as a holding tank for prisoners of war
#10 Vineyard built on one of the walkways inside the castle at angers
#11 inside the crypts under the church in Nantes
#12 another casual view of the castle of Angers and part of the church
#13 just another section of crypts. Normal.
Stay tuned for the story of how I lost my iPhone and the miracle by which it was found. Also included will be "the cutest thing I have ever seen in my life"
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
"peux-tu faire des amis avec les amish?"
Part 2 of the country. I should also preface this by saying that the title of the first part of my time in the country is a funny thing that Papi said to me, as well as this one. My first day here, Papi asked me if I liked cheese and I told him that I wasn't a huge fan but I like to try every kind I can. He told me that there are over 300 different types of cheese so I will always have a new one to try. When I told him the other day that I would love to just keep visiting castles and do that until I have seen every castle in France he told me that it was impossible because there are just too many. He then added "ohhh yes, there are a lot of castles, just like there is a lot of cheese" which is basically what that last title translated to.
this title comes from the time Papi googled Indiana on his IPad. We were sitting and reading one night and he looked up from his IPad and said "do you know that you have a canal in Indianapolis?" I smiled and told him that I did know that. He then started spouting facts about Indianapolis that he was learning on Wikipedia and I thought it was unreal adorable. From that moment however, there has been an influx of questions about where I come from and what it is like. This particular question came from Mami when we were driving and got stuck on the highway behind a tractor. She said sometimes that happens and I explained to her that sometimes on roads by our lake house we get stuck behind Amish people in their buggies. She was familiar with Amish people but had no idea that they lived in Indiana, then a steady stream of questions: And they refuse all electricity? What do they do for work? Do they use money the same way? What kind of food do they eat? and then today's title, can you make friends with the Amish?
they are really cute and funny.
OKAY so the second part of my time in the country.
The day after we went fruit picking, I bought a train ticket to Angers, a bigger city than Ancenis and WAY bigger than Oudon but not as big as Nantes. Papi gave me a guide book all about the pays de la loire and dropped me off at the train station. When I say dropped me off, I don't actually mean it. I mean he parked the car, walked me up to the train station, walked me to my platform, hung around for a few minutes and then said, well I guess you can take it from here, have a nice day! And then went home. So I took the train into the city and it only took about 25 minutes, not bad. I get there at about 10 and decide to just wander. I walk a while and I stumble myself into an open air market, which I had been to in Paris but never in the country so I take a stroll, they had literally anything you would need, 3 cheese booths, at least 5 butchers, 2 fish/sea creature (animals I have NEVER EVEN SEEN BEFORE let alone attempted to eat) vendors and about a million vegetable stands, plus shoes, lingerie, jewelry and more. I keep walking and I find a little asian food supply store which is exciting because B found out I know how to make sushi and every 3rd day he asks me if I will make him sushi and my answer is always the same: I don't have my sushi rolling mat... So I go inside and buy one. I figure this will buy me some good behavior. "I'll make you sushi IF..." Then I walk myself into the center of the city where there is: you guessed it. A CASTLE.
This one had 17 tours at one point and houses the Apocalypse Tapestries, which I found to be so interesting it's unreal. The self-guided tour was supposed to take an hour and fifteen minutes. I took 2.5. Casually. This one was interesting because instead of having just a museum inside, it also had the tapestries, ruins of the previous buildings (one was an early spa with steam baths) and a castle that was used as a prison during one of the wars... I can't currently remember which. I then absolutely STALKED the apocalypse tapestries and listened to the entire story on my little audio guide. oh yeah, I rented one. BECAUSE, the castle was free for EU residents under 25. Guess who that officially applies to? Yes, it's me.
After the castle tour, I was hungry, so I went into a little bakery and got a sandwich dessert and drink, a typical french 'formule' that you get for lunch, and I walked a little way to try to find somewhere to eat it. I find a garden and realize that it belongs to the museum of fine arts. So I sit in the garden, eat my lunch and then proceed to go into the Museum of Fine Arts; also free to EU residents under 25. There is a temporary exhibit here, which is the first I went into, called "The Last Night in Troy" and it was all paintings of the last nights before a riot or the breaking out of a riot. Lots of paintings depicting greek emperors about to be assassinated, The death of Purim was a common one, Purim bringing home the body of Hector, then there were also paintings of Julius Caesar being assassinated, and finally a slew of paintings entitled "the last night of Pompeii" with people frantically running around and a huge volcano erupting in the background. It was pretty bloody and terrifying, couple that with the fact that I had just spent almost an entire hour looking the Apocalypse Tapestries - remember all that for later.
I go through the rest of the museum, a little section on this history of Angers, then their permanent collection which is also just pretty cool, and the modern art which is always awkward and interesting. Here is a link to my favorite artists work that I found there: http://www.flickriver.com/photos/boccacino/3083891895/
his name is daniel tremblay, and those are real goldfish in a bowl in front of his painting. I want to know whose job it is to feed them, what happens when one dies, who changes the water, I seriously think it's all very integral to the art.
At this point I have a huge headache so I sit down at a cafe, order an espresso and read a book for a bit and just relax. I sit there for a while, get a magnum ice cream and I hope I looked as hot as Rachel Bilson when I ate it. (I didn't)
I still had some time left to kill before my train, so I hunt down the giant cathedral. I take one step inside and for some reason I burst into tears. (this is where my previous days experience is to be recalled, I think) I just could not stop crying. It was such a pretty cathedral but it was more than that. Finally I couldn't take it anymore and I had to step out and the second my foot touched the sunlight of outdoors I felt fine. Definitely something to consider.
I find a small grocery store, head in, grab a few things I forgot to pack, and then I go wait for my train and go on home. That was Wednesday, nothing super interesting happened Thursday that I can recall, and I stayed in Friday cause I was still exhausted. Saturday I walked back to the plan d'eau and layed by the lake and read and then walked back and Sunday I stayed at home too and the boys came back from their other grandparents, however this week the boys are going to like a day camp in the afternoons so it's going to be a little less hectic.
Yesterday after mami dropped off the boys, she came back to the house, picked me up and we went and ran errands together. We went to French Target, I think. Which was awesome. They had absolutely everything that anyone would need there; but I didn't need anything I just went with her. Then she dropped me off in the center of the little bity town of Ancenis, near you guessed it, another castle. This time however I did not go inside because it was under construction and I couldn't figure it out how to go in or buy a ticket or anything so I just walked through the courtyards. I also had a small little pamphlet that described a walking tour you could do for yourself to see the old architecture, so I did that, saw some cool old buildings, realized EVERYTHING IS CLOSED ON MONDAYS again and felt like an idiot. Walked the banks of the Loire to a small little island and then took off my shoes and walked in the river, then sat on the edge and read my book for a while until Mami came to pick me up.
Today I went to Nantes on the early morning train where I encountered and helped a group of confused American tourists. (boom) Walking around Nantes was fun, it was waaaay bigger than Angers so it felt a little like I was back in Paris which was nice. I got a quick pain au raisin from the bakery across from the train station and then I set out. First stop? The Castle of Anne of Bretagne, of course. This woman's life was unreal. She was the queen of France, twice. Like seriously? Anyway, Gorrrrrgeous castle, pictures to follow. As per usual I spent entirely too long in that castle.
Then I wander around until I find the galleries du lafayette; aka a department store kinda like Saks but maybe a teeny bit less nice, but tons of expensive french designers regardless. I walk inside and take a stroll around and I remember that I need a swimsuit bottom for my trip to the Baule (7km beach, ultra chic) on Thursday. So I walk around and I find a few and I go to try them on, I find two that I end up liking a lot that I think will go with the top I already have here (let's hope mix and match really is as big as people keep saying it is in magazines) and one is part of the Soldes which is even better (that is a topic for another post I still have to write). The woman working the area asks me which ones ended up working and I hand her the two bottoms and she walks me to her register. She mumbles something and then shoots me a coy little smile; to which I am not sure how to respond because I didn't hear her entirely so I just say, I'm going the la Baule on Thursday and I needed a suit! She then comments again and boy do I understand her loud and clear. She says "You're going topless, huh? You know you're allowed to do that! It's fun!" UMMMMMMMM
I giggle awkwardly and explain to her that I have the top at my house but left the bottoms in the united states. She hints that I should think about it and hands me my bag and I thank her and awkwardly laugh my way out of the store. Casual suggestion for a tuesday morning. Hey! Go topless at our beach!
I then get lunch, sit on the castle lawn and eat and read, then wander around for a bit. I find the castle and notice two guys going into a different entrance than everyone else so I decide to follow them haphazardly. Luckily for me (?) they entered the church through the Crypts. So I got to go down into the newly opened crypts of the cathedrale at Nantes and meander about. That leads you out and up into the church when you are done where I saw the tomb of Anne of Bretagne's father and mother: Francois II and one of his 2 wives, Marguerite de Foix. After the cathedral I wandered around some more, bought myself some ice cream and sat down on a bench to eat it.
The story of the guy who sat next to me on the bench while I ate my ice cream is for another time, but rest assured that it is a gem that ends so uncomfortably I can't even explain.
From there, I went to the Jardin des Plants which is exactly what it sounds like, a garden full of plants from around the world. Super gorgeous there, I sat and read a book for a while and then went to the train station kinda early but I thought I remembered seeing a sign for free wifi so I was like, I can blog while I wait for my train. I get there, I buy a coke and a water (5 euro, seriously) and I sit down to try to use the internet but it isn't working. So then I just sit there and drink my drink, relax, read a little bit and then I realize it's time for my train. I look at my ticket just to be sure. Of course, I bought a ticket for the train at 5:38, not 6:38. So I had missed my train. bah. I went to the ticket desk but the line was foreeeever long, so I went to a machine where it said you can exchange tickets, so I tried to do that but it told me that I couldn't so I would have to go to the line. At this point, my train is leaving in 15 minutes so I am not sure what to do. I end up just buying another ticket for the next train, asking the guy at the information booth if this train stops at Oudon, (yes) what do I do about this extra ticket, (take it to ticket booth, get reimbursed) do I have enough time to do that before the train leaves (no, the line is too long, you can try at the station when you get back).
Deal.
Papi met me on the train station platform (of course) and drove me home where I almost fell asleep in the car and I cannot believe I was even able to write all of this.
God bless you if you were able to read all the way to the end. Not only that, but thank you all for still being interested in my trip; awkward and almost unbelievable at times as it may be. It means a lot to me :)
this title comes from the time Papi googled Indiana on his IPad. We were sitting and reading one night and he looked up from his IPad and said "do you know that you have a canal in Indianapolis?" I smiled and told him that I did know that. He then started spouting facts about Indianapolis that he was learning on Wikipedia and I thought it was unreal adorable. From that moment however, there has been an influx of questions about where I come from and what it is like. This particular question came from Mami when we were driving and got stuck on the highway behind a tractor. She said sometimes that happens and I explained to her that sometimes on roads by our lake house we get stuck behind Amish people in their buggies. She was familiar with Amish people but had no idea that they lived in Indiana, then a steady stream of questions: And they refuse all electricity? What do they do for work? Do they use money the same way? What kind of food do they eat? and then today's title, can you make friends with the Amish?
they are really cute and funny.
OKAY so the second part of my time in the country.
The day after we went fruit picking, I bought a train ticket to Angers, a bigger city than Ancenis and WAY bigger than Oudon but not as big as Nantes. Papi gave me a guide book all about the pays de la loire and dropped me off at the train station. When I say dropped me off, I don't actually mean it. I mean he parked the car, walked me up to the train station, walked me to my platform, hung around for a few minutes and then said, well I guess you can take it from here, have a nice day! And then went home. So I took the train into the city and it only took about 25 minutes, not bad. I get there at about 10 and decide to just wander. I walk a while and I stumble myself into an open air market, which I had been to in Paris but never in the country so I take a stroll, they had literally anything you would need, 3 cheese booths, at least 5 butchers, 2 fish/sea creature (animals I have NEVER EVEN SEEN BEFORE let alone attempted to eat) vendors and about a million vegetable stands, plus shoes, lingerie, jewelry and more. I keep walking and I find a little asian food supply store which is exciting because B found out I know how to make sushi and every 3rd day he asks me if I will make him sushi and my answer is always the same: I don't have my sushi rolling mat... So I go inside and buy one. I figure this will buy me some good behavior. "I'll make you sushi IF..." Then I walk myself into the center of the city where there is: you guessed it. A CASTLE.
This one had 17 tours at one point and houses the Apocalypse Tapestries, which I found to be so interesting it's unreal. The self-guided tour was supposed to take an hour and fifteen minutes. I took 2.5. Casually. This one was interesting because instead of having just a museum inside, it also had the tapestries, ruins of the previous buildings (one was an early spa with steam baths) and a castle that was used as a prison during one of the wars... I can't currently remember which. I then absolutely STALKED the apocalypse tapestries and listened to the entire story on my little audio guide. oh yeah, I rented one. BECAUSE, the castle was free for EU residents under 25. Guess who that officially applies to? Yes, it's me.
After the castle tour, I was hungry, so I went into a little bakery and got a sandwich dessert and drink, a typical french 'formule' that you get for lunch, and I walked a little way to try to find somewhere to eat it. I find a garden and realize that it belongs to the museum of fine arts. So I sit in the garden, eat my lunch and then proceed to go into the Museum of Fine Arts; also free to EU residents under 25. There is a temporary exhibit here, which is the first I went into, called "The Last Night in Troy" and it was all paintings of the last nights before a riot or the breaking out of a riot. Lots of paintings depicting greek emperors about to be assassinated, The death of Purim was a common one, Purim bringing home the body of Hector, then there were also paintings of Julius Caesar being assassinated, and finally a slew of paintings entitled "the last night of Pompeii" with people frantically running around and a huge volcano erupting in the background. It was pretty bloody and terrifying, couple that with the fact that I had just spent almost an entire hour looking the Apocalypse Tapestries - remember all that for later.
I go through the rest of the museum, a little section on this history of Angers, then their permanent collection which is also just pretty cool, and the modern art which is always awkward and interesting. Here is a link to my favorite artists work that I found there: http://www.flickriver.com/photos/boccacino/3083891895/
his name is daniel tremblay, and those are real goldfish in a bowl in front of his painting. I want to know whose job it is to feed them, what happens when one dies, who changes the water, I seriously think it's all very integral to the art.
At this point I have a huge headache so I sit down at a cafe, order an espresso and read a book for a bit and just relax. I sit there for a while, get a magnum ice cream and I hope I looked as hot as Rachel Bilson when I ate it. (I didn't)
I still had some time left to kill before my train, so I hunt down the giant cathedral. I take one step inside and for some reason I burst into tears. (this is where my previous days experience is to be recalled, I think) I just could not stop crying. It was such a pretty cathedral but it was more than that. Finally I couldn't take it anymore and I had to step out and the second my foot touched the sunlight of outdoors I felt fine. Definitely something to consider.
I find a small grocery store, head in, grab a few things I forgot to pack, and then I go wait for my train and go on home. That was Wednesday, nothing super interesting happened Thursday that I can recall, and I stayed in Friday cause I was still exhausted. Saturday I walked back to the plan d'eau and layed by the lake and read and then walked back and Sunday I stayed at home too and the boys came back from their other grandparents, however this week the boys are going to like a day camp in the afternoons so it's going to be a little less hectic.
Yesterday after mami dropped off the boys, she came back to the house, picked me up and we went and ran errands together. We went to French Target, I think. Which was awesome. They had absolutely everything that anyone would need there; but I didn't need anything I just went with her. Then she dropped me off in the center of the little bity town of Ancenis, near you guessed it, another castle. This time however I did not go inside because it was under construction and I couldn't figure it out how to go in or buy a ticket or anything so I just walked through the courtyards. I also had a small little pamphlet that described a walking tour you could do for yourself to see the old architecture, so I did that, saw some cool old buildings, realized EVERYTHING IS CLOSED ON MONDAYS again and felt like an idiot. Walked the banks of the Loire to a small little island and then took off my shoes and walked in the river, then sat on the edge and read my book for a while until Mami came to pick me up.
Today I went to Nantes on the early morning train where I encountered and helped a group of confused American tourists. (boom) Walking around Nantes was fun, it was waaaay bigger than Angers so it felt a little like I was back in Paris which was nice. I got a quick pain au raisin from the bakery across from the train station and then I set out. First stop? The Castle of Anne of Bretagne, of course. This woman's life was unreal. She was the queen of France, twice. Like seriously? Anyway, Gorrrrrgeous castle, pictures to follow. As per usual I spent entirely too long in that castle.
Then I wander around until I find the galleries du lafayette; aka a department store kinda like Saks but maybe a teeny bit less nice, but tons of expensive french designers regardless. I walk inside and take a stroll around and I remember that I need a swimsuit bottom for my trip to the Baule (7km beach, ultra chic) on Thursday. So I walk around and I find a few and I go to try them on, I find two that I end up liking a lot that I think will go with the top I already have here (let's hope mix and match really is as big as people keep saying it is in magazines) and one is part of the Soldes which is even better (that is a topic for another post I still have to write). The woman working the area asks me which ones ended up working and I hand her the two bottoms and she walks me to her register. She mumbles something and then shoots me a coy little smile; to which I am not sure how to respond because I didn't hear her entirely so I just say, I'm going the la Baule on Thursday and I needed a suit! She then comments again and boy do I understand her loud and clear. She says "You're going topless, huh? You know you're allowed to do that! It's fun!" UMMMMMMMM
I giggle awkwardly and explain to her that I have the top at my house but left the bottoms in the united states. She hints that I should think about it and hands me my bag and I thank her and awkwardly laugh my way out of the store. Casual suggestion for a tuesday morning. Hey! Go topless at our beach!
I then get lunch, sit on the castle lawn and eat and read, then wander around for a bit. I find the castle and notice two guys going into a different entrance than everyone else so I decide to follow them haphazardly. Luckily for me (?) they entered the church through the Crypts. So I got to go down into the newly opened crypts of the cathedrale at Nantes and meander about. That leads you out and up into the church when you are done where I saw the tomb of Anne of Bretagne's father and mother: Francois II and one of his 2 wives, Marguerite de Foix. After the cathedral I wandered around some more, bought myself some ice cream and sat down on a bench to eat it.
The story of the guy who sat next to me on the bench while I ate my ice cream is for another time, but rest assured that it is a gem that ends so uncomfortably I can't even explain.
From there, I went to the Jardin des Plants which is exactly what it sounds like, a garden full of plants from around the world. Super gorgeous there, I sat and read a book for a while and then went to the train station kinda early but I thought I remembered seeing a sign for free wifi so I was like, I can blog while I wait for my train. I get there, I buy a coke and a water (5 euro, seriously) and I sit down to try to use the internet but it isn't working. So then I just sit there and drink my drink, relax, read a little bit and then I realize it's time for my train. I look at my ticket just to be sure. Of course, I bought a ticket for the train at 5:38, not 6:38. So I had missed my train. bah. I went to the ticket desk but the line was foreeeever long, so I went to a machine where it said you can exchange tickets, so I tried to do that but it told me that I couldn't so I would have to go to the line. At this point, my train is leaving in 15 minutes so I am not sure what to do. I end up just buying another ticket for the next train, asking the guy at the information booth if this train stops at Oudon, (yes) what do I do about this extra ticket, (take it to ticket booth, get reimbursed) do I have enough time to do that before the train leaves (no, the line is too long, you can try at the station when you get back).
Deal.
Papi met me on the train station platform (of course) and drove me home where I almost fell asleep in the car and I cannot believe I was even able to write all of this.
God bless you if you were able to read all the way to the end. Not only that, but thank you all for still being interested in my trip; awkward and almost unbelievable at times as it may be. It means a lot to me :)
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