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.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)