Off to London

I CAN'T WAIT!!! To see London, to see Megan, to see Drew (he's been there all week), to hear English, to wear feathers in my hair, and to once again have a complete understanding of sandwich choices.

Today I said goodbye a class... the rest I will see next week. It's really sad. Note to self: buy more kleenex.

Yesterday a class (my favorite one) began singing Happy Birthday as soon as I walked in the room... they made the cutest cards!! It's even better that they are a few weeks late. Why do the little monsters become sweet now when it's the most difficult?

Language Woes

A quote from 'My Fair Lady' I find to be true:

The French don't care what they do actually
As long as they pronounce it properly

As Ascot looms this weekend, I thought it was time to revisit an old favorite (who remembers the scene where Eliza goes to the races?). Somehow, according to every English person I can find to ask, this movie is practically unknown in England, despite the fact that the musical has run in the West End for decades. Perhaps English people don't need a film to see their culture. Regardless, the movie just gets better the more I see it and recognize bits of culture and glimpses of the city.

This Saturday is Ladies Day at Ascot--the most important one--the one of monumental hats. The Queen will be there! And so will I! Although I couldn't afford a hat, just a brown hair clip with feathers, I should pass muster. Caroline, Drew, Megan and I are going with some other people. I'm really excited about seeing Megan (Australian roommate Megan) after two months!

Anyway back to the quote. Lately, I've been reflecting on my french language skills. At some point, a few months ago, I hit a plateau and in crept laziness. Comprehension and speaking on a basic level are alright, but I haven't mastered an elevated form of address. When I arrived in September, I spoke like a 5 year old. Maybe now I'm an 11 year old. But that's still far from expressing myself like a refined adult. This frustrates me, because now I'm leaving too soon to work on it much more. Pronunciation still gets me every time. I avoid using certain words because they sound too similar to gross mots (bad words).

A new challenge

Word of the month:
résiliation
Principal Translations/Principales traductions
résiliation(d'un bail, d'un contrat, d'un marché - en cours) nf cancellation

This is the tricky part where we write passive-aggressive letters to companies to try to get our deposits back. Everything needs to be done in a particular order so the electricity and gas stay until we leave, yet the bills arrive before we cancel our bank accounts(and leave exactly enough money in the account to pay!).

A whirled traveler

Still haven't forgotten about you beautiful readers. Please forgive these short and sporadic posts. Our internet quit working the day after it started again (as a result I've read 3 books in the last week). And life has been rolling!

Since the last post I:
-found the bravery to receive a french haircut
-fell in love with the basement of the Marmottan Museum and that area of the 16th arrondissement in Paris
-turned 24 with a picnic in the park, a surprise brownie cake with a serenade from Celia and Jeanne, and a great skype conversation
-went to Charleroi to see where my grandpa's brother was stationed in World War 2 and Liege of international waffle fame in Belgium
-rode a bicycle 50 kilometers across Luxembourg with Jen and Drew
-danced the Cha-Cha Slide about 20 times in English class
-learned the introdcution to 'Heal the World' by Michael Jackson

The Sound of Silence

Hello dear readers, contrary to what you might be thinking, I have certainly not forgotten about you... things have just been hectic. Because not much happened for the last four months, many things happen now in order to even the stakes.

This list of things includes
- losing internet for 5 days (and a battle with France Telecom)
- roadtripping to the Champagne region
- being a translator for a group of British people descended from WW1 soldiers who died in a battle near my town, who came to dedicate a road in their honor and tour memorial sites
- finding out about and attending an amazing concert in Paris with my friend Megan
- riding the Pompidou Center's great glass escalators
- oversleeping the next day

And now it's back to Paris for Birthday Weekend Part II. (Last weekend was Caroline's, this Monday the birthday kids are me and Drew.) We have Winnie the Pooh party hats.

I promise pictures next week (my camera's been dead since Saturday).

Say NO to the Toast Attitude

How amusing is this advert? Thanks go out to Jen for capturing it from the SNCF website for all to enjoy!

Another Transport Strike

I won't bore you. Yes, it happened again. This happens always. And this time I captured some on video. Listen for the chanting in the background. Two pedestrians were dodged to get this footage while a guy in a car watched me judgementally.

The Bakers Insurance Company

This sign hangs in the window of a building caddy corner from our apartment. Six months after moving in, I realize that this is a mutual insurance company just for bakers!! It protects them from "The Civil Risks of the Bakeries." Only in France...

The Crystal Skull

We went to Lille today to watch the new Indiana Jones movie on opening day blasting across the big screen. It's great!!! I always forget how much fun it is to go to the movies.

The Ever-lasting Day of May

Rather than write the story, here is the time chronicle. Too sleepy for sentences.

2:30am Hear Sarah stir to go downstairs
3:30am Decide to stop trying to sleep
4:30am Finish Driving Miss Daisy and begin to re-read it
5am Rise and ShineEveryone up! shower & coffee
6am Jen, Sarah and I leave to drive to Brussels because a transport strike stands between her and the International Airport... and Houston...
7:40am Traffic because the strike forces everyone to drive
8:30am Arrive at Airport
9:30am Back in Valenciennes
10am Making tortillas for fiesta
11am Nap
12pm Lunch
12:54pm Tram to Bus to School
1:30pm-4:30pm Vivo Mexico!!

Pinata Update

Today in class, we painted the pinatas. They look wonderful hot-air balloons with missing baskets. This helps. The party's next Tuesday.

Pinata the tail on the donkey

What a day!

Today my teacher and I planned to begin construction on balloon pinatas for the fiesta next Tuesday. I thought we'd make 3 or 4 per class. He thought we should make 12 per class with the younger ones, and give everyone their own with the oldest. This would have been more manageable if he hadn't needed to leave for a meeting that lasted an hour, leaving me all alone in two classes!!! The room was in folie--complete madness.

Problems:
(1) I can't understand kids speaking french in a noisy classroom.
(2) When I can't understand kids speaking french in a noisy classroom, it gets more noisy because 3 kids try to translate while 3 other kids shush the room. (They say chuuuuuute)
(3) One little boy got glue in his eye and no one has briefed me on where to send kids with glue in one eye.
(4) The little girl watching the class and taking down names on the blackboard sat down halfway through and began to sob discouragedly because her task wasn't making a dent in the classroom noise level.
(5) 25 KIDS CANNOT MAKE PINATAS QUIETLY
(6) Liquid glue is too sticky and not-quite-sticky enough simultaneously.
(7) French students are taught to be careful with things, so they wouldn't just tear paper strips, they took out a ruler, measured and tore the paper along the edge. After glueing, they became upset if it looked ugly.
(8) On the other hand, there will always be the bad boys in every class. They popped the balloons on purpose. With their feet.
(9) The french word for glue (colle) can be mispronounced into two gross mot-- bad words. And it makes me nervous to say.

Oh la la. Bring me a Pimm's.

Disgusting Chip Flavors

Notes from the grocery store for the Culinarily Curious:

Pringles Flame-Grilled Steak & Caramelized Onion flavour
Sweet BBQ Sparerib
Red Paprika
Goat Cheese & Rosemary
Thyme & Bayleaf
Roast Chicken
Bolognaise (Beef Marinara Sauce)
Bacon
Ketchup
Marmite (British unexplainable thing to spread on toast, it must be smelled)

Why do they need to be flavored like meat? There's no way meat could be chopped up small enough to go on a chip. It reminds me of dry dog food...there's not really much meat in there either.

Intuition

To me, one of the biggest obstacles facing Americans living in France is intuition. Our American intuition. The system of logic that applies state side. None of this works here. Finally, after 7 months, I'm noticing that sentences that start with "Well, it seems like..." "Wouldn't you think..." "At home..." or "It'd make sense if..." are always ALWAYS wrong. Never assume. Just reverse every plan and preconception. Why did this take so long to deeply understand?

Now that I know, it's finally turning around. Last week, I really needed to mail a package. After getting home from work at 5:45, packing and wrapping it, the clock must have read nearly 7. My inner American thought, "No, post offices will be closed by the time I walk there with this heavy box." Maybe it was the still-sunny evening, but something else chimed "No, it may be open. They close at lunch for a few hours and stay open later." And with this scared-to-believe-in optimism, I power walked to La Poste. And wouldn't you know, it was still open!

On the other hand, I just found out that our water pipes empty directly outside our appartment. The kitchen sink goes onto the upper terrace. The shower goes onto the street. That doesn't make any sense.

Celebrations everywhere

Long live May. It seems like holidays abound. May 8th was another European bank holiday because it commemorates Victory in Europe Day (end of WW2). Monday will be another day off because it's lundi Pentecote-- Pentecost Monday. Don't ask me why proud-to-be-secular France has this holiday. Most businesses faire le pont or make a bridge if holidays fall in the middle of the week by giving their employees off all the days until the weekend. Unfortunately, schools do not, so I worked today.

In addition to these Continental holidays, we're throwing a Cinco de Mayo fiesta at two of my schools with dancing, pinatas and chips & salsa. The kids really like to cha-cha. We're going to make paper sombreros next time and have a Mexican Hat Dance. This is why being a primary school teacher is great!

Unfortuntately, I'm missing some big celebrations at home. My brother's graduating from A&M today... And I wish I could be there. Congratulations, little bro.

Chinese Arms

A few cultural tidbits I picked up today:

-The machine that rolls around and sucks up garbage off the sidewalk is called a "Glutton."

-One says Un, deux, trois bras de chinois before starting a Thumb War. That translates as one, two, three arms of chinese and even rhymes in English.

Honor the Texas Flag

A mysterious red car sits on the side of a street I pass going to tutor Hinata. Two stickers decorate its back window. One is the Scottish flag, the other is a Texas flag in the shape of Texas. It made me so happy to spot the flag the first time! I thought maybe some English speakers lived there. So, before vacation, I left a "I like your flag" note under the windshield wiper.

Well, yesterday, a woman was weedwhacking in the lawn outside the house next to the red Peugot. Seeing that I was early, I mustered up some courage and asked her about the car. Turns out it indeed belongs to her! Apparently Mary Elise and her husband travel to the US every year (and have for the last 10 years), and they visited Texas last summer. She said she really liked Austin and found all the Texans she met quite charming.

At some point her husband and father-in-law came outside to talk, too. The father-in-law was cute because he ended or began each sentence to me with Mademoiselle. According to books, this is a very old-fashioned mannerism. Feminists in France strongly object to Mademoiselle like the Miss/Mrs/Ms controversy at home. But I think it's sweet. Which is good because it's common here in the country.

Another mannerism I find charming--the die-hard penchant for 10 and 11 year old kids to avoid holding hands with members of the opposite gender AT ALL COSTS. Yesterday my class played a game called Fishs and Nets in the courtyard where we held hands in a circle. Instead, actually the girls grabbed the boys' jacket sleeves just next to their wrists.

May Day

Not Mayday. It's another bank holiday in France! So... nothing is open. I tried explaining that in the US, shops and restaurants are not just open on these sorts of days, but that they stage sales events and do excellent business on them. That didn't seem to make sense to the frenchies with whom I conversed. In France, a holiday is a holiday for one and all. An extreme notion of egalite to my mind. Only the lone American mavericks, MacDo and Subway, remain open. Besides that, can you guess the only thing happening? Strikers marching around on parade. Remember how I wrote before that going on strike is the national pastime of France? Well, this is the equivalent of attending a live holiday bowl game.

All these farewells begin to wear me (and my carte de credit) out. Monday night, we went to eat at a restaurant that specializes in Northern French Cuisine. I write the word cuisine using the very broadest sense of the term. They eat weird foods here. My theory: they began eating these things as a result of the wars... and just never quit. I'd heard they enjoy horse meat, endives, pig colon sausage, and meat jello (pot'jevelesh it sounds like someone questioning "supposeblish?").

At this restaurant, I learned a few new ones...
Salade de langue fumee or Salade of Smoked Tongue (no one knew what animal the tongue came from...)

Fricassee de joues de porc or Fricassee of Pig Cheeks... I couldn't bring myself to try either. It's too expensive to risk. A nice meal out here costs 15-25 euros.

Tuesday we had Moroccan food. It is delicious!! The restaurant had ornate carvings and draperies all over the walls. We tried the Moroccan "Gray" wine. I ordered a Tagine du poulet. It is like roasted chicken with vegetables, raisins, dates, and almonds cooked something that looks like an upside down clay funnel with a clay bottom. They take off the piping-hot funnel top as they serve it.

Since this post has become about food, wouldn't you like to read about the greatest thing since a grilled cheese sandwich? A lunch waffle. A place just began selling them on the city square. They put cheese, meat, etc on the batter before they close the waffle iron (a specially designed one of course) and hand it to you as cheese oozes out the front. Amazing.

The last appartment with internet access

Sorry I haven't finished updating this week! Because most of the assistants leave this week, they cancelled their internet contracts before vacation... and because none of them have internet, our appartment has become the internet cafe/student union/epicenter of English life in Valenciennes. Consequently, I haven't been online as much. We cooked up chicken enchiladas, curry, and a picnic in the park.

Yesterday, the weather felt actually warm! I started a new tutoring job with a 7-year old Japanese girl named Hinata, and almost broke a sweat walking over to their house. She already has killer English, it will be a challenge creating lessons on her level. Their next door neighbors (6-year old twins!) want to start English lessons as well.

One of my favorite classes has a blog, and they are working on an article about me! In case any of you are interested, click here.

Did I ever mention that French students bring birthday cake to school on their birthdays? And they give a piece to each student in their class plus all the teachers! I find this to be a marvelous tradition.

Shopping Aisles of Olive Oil

My favorite thing we did in Geneva was take Missy (aforementioned black puppy) for a walk along the banks of the river. I found the idyllic Swiss Spring water allusions to be absolutely true. However, skipping rocks in clear, sparkling water is just as difficult in its more murky counterpart. While we walked, Missy tried to drag a 12 foot limb along (roughly the diameter of a flag pole). Very ambitious. It's funny being in that city because people speak so many languages, it's hard to choose one in casual conversation.

The first two nights, we went out to eat at lovely Italian restaurants where Peppe, Hillary's fiance, used to work. His waiter friends brought out amazing appetizers! We sat down, and two minutes later, voila a pizza is served! Then some fancy mushrooms with two kinds of olive oil to try...one from the North and one from Sicily. Variations in the soil and sunlight produce different flavors. People around the Mediterranean seem to have an extensive olive oil knowledge base and talk about them like fine wines. We went in one shop in Nice where the owner only grinds them by hand with a stone mortar and pestle, swearing it makes a difference. Some olive oils go with meat, others are cooked with, and the most delicately-flavored ones are put as the final dressing on dishes. In Texas, I bought the cheapest one at HEB.

Geneva

What a beautiful city! Hillary, Sarah's cousin lives here so we've had a blast staying. Things are great here--tons of TV channels in English, cold, moutain spring water comes from the water faucet, and there's a black puppy named Missy and a black kitty named Maeve. This afternoon, we leave for Paris... it will be hard going back.

Lucky 100

The screen says this is post #100. Wow. I never thought the total would grow so high. If anyone still reads this, thank you!

We're still enjoying Lyon. Tomorrow we'll trek to Geneva!

Yesterday, I had a revelation whilst relaxing in Starbucks. A Tall Coffee of the Week here is 2.60 euros (approximately $4). At home it costs $1.81. Up until yesterday, I considered Starbucks here expensive because of this price comparison. Suddenly, I realized tiny coffees here can cost more than that. They actually offer a great value! In an average French cafe, the price of a cafe creme ranges between 2.40-3.50 euros. And a Starbucks Tall is atleast thrice its size. This probably sounds dumb, but it made me feel free, calm, and happy to enjoy sitting there with my hot American-sized beverage.

On a sadder note, I just read the "Averages" pages of www.weather.com for Valenciennes. The average temperature will never be warm. The dead heat of August, there, is 72 degrees. Coincidentally, this equals Austin's average March temperature. I grow despondent thinking of this.

Why do they even sell short-sleeved shirts?

Saw a Lion in Lyon

Okay we're here in Lyon. It's the 3rd largest city in France, but seems like a hybrid of Paris and Geneva. In some ways, it seems like they copied Paris-- for example, a giant white church tops a hill that funiculars ascend, arrondissements number neighborhoods, the Presqu'ile island is in the center... But in other ways, it's distinct and wonderful. Much more relaxed. Riding a bicycle here is contemplatable.

Last night, we ordered fondue! Three types of melted cheese! Now I understand the fondue pot craze--it's fantastically delicious. Here, they serve it with a plate of different meats and a basket of croutons. Interestingly, the word crouton transends the language barrier.

Right now they are having an arts festival in the city an almost 70 different lion and polar bear statues hide on city corners. But those aren't the only lions we saw today. Additionally, Sarah and I took a promenade in the Parc de Tete d'Or (the park of the Golden Head), which houses a zoo. This was a magnificent plus, because I didn't know there was a zoo there! They had lions, tigers and 8 different types of monkey. These animals lived behind shockingly minute, easily surmountable fences. So, if you have time, try googling "Lyon" "Zoo" and "Escaped Animals." Results may appear.

Backtracking un petit peu-- Arles had sun, sun, sun our last day there! Sarah and I finished up our Arles Museum Pass. My favorite thing was Les Alyscamps, an ancient Roman necropolis. Dante immoralized it. Van Gogh painted it. And it's so tranquille today. We went in the chapel at the end (a Christian one from the 12th century) and only had to share it with 3 cooing pigeons. Too often, sites are over-run with tourists. It makes the quiet ones shine in comparison! This made our night in Carcassonne special as well, most everyone left around 7pm, and we could see the illuminated medival city without disruption.

Anyway, all that to say, the trip's going well. I can't believe the one-week mark passed on Saturday! What day is it anyway? I tend to only remember how many days in a row I've worn this pair of blue jeans. And when did we make that PBJ?

Antiquite

This post comes to you from a 12th century fortress. We're in Carcassonne! See photo and video below. Last night we wandered the ancient walls. We ate at a really atmospheric old restaurant. Even the food seemed medieval. The specialty here is Cassoulet, one of France's National Dishes. It consists of beans simmered with pork, mutton, goose or duck, large sausages, shallots and tomatoes. They serve it bubbling.

Arles and Avignon were great, too. The city set up easels where Van Gogh painted specific canvases. We found 6 so far. Some are sad because the building doesn't exist anymore. This is also the town where he went crazy, threatened to cut of Gaughin's ear, then cut off his own instead. The photo below shows the courtyard of the mental institution he went to after this incident.

Have had several near-misses with train travel. Yesterday the car my ticket was for-16-wasnt there. Only 15 and 17. What are the chances? Off to Lyon we go we go...

Nice really is... nice!

Well our holiday has a promising start!

Torino treated us right, and so has Nice. Walking to the Agnelli Art Museum Sunday morning, we passed a marathon running down the opposite river bank! They had pop music playing. The city is so lovely--miles and miles of tall arcaded streets. So if it's raining, no one gets wet. We went on an expedition to find the foccacia bread pizza from Toussaint vacation. Couldn't remember the name of the place or the street. Imagine how helpful this conversation starter could be: "Hi, we're looking for a pizza place. It's on the street corner."

My suitcase's pull handle quit working. This isn't fun. Luckily, our train was cruising along the Cote d'Azur when I realized it. The views! The train ran right along the water's edge. I felt like Mr. Bean (from Mr. Bean's Holiday) when we finally made it to the seaside on the Promenade des Anglais. Apparently, the rich English folk who began vacationing there in the belle epoque had it paved in marble because they couldn't be bothered getting their shoes sandy! We went in the Negresco to see the chandelier of 16,000 crystals. We ate socca (a crepe of chickpeas) and delicious veggie tapenade. These are highlights--have to get off computer now! Stay tuned.

And we're off...

As I'm typing this, the sun isn't shining. It's time to find someplace that it does... I'll try to update as we go along.

Mr. Blue Sky

I've been singing that song by ELO all day. Today has been lovely!

The cafe owners returned the tables and chairs outside after the long winter. Lots of new tulips and daffodils are blooming. I've never seen so many people walking around before--they've come out of hibernation.

On a pedagogical note, today I had a class normally taught with another teacher all by myself... And it went great! Surprisingly great. They really liked the egg hunt, but sat quietly through a rhyming worksheet, too.

Yesterday in one class we watched The Jungle Book. I love the week right before holidays when elementary school teachers don't expect to accomplish much. Wish that could be every job.

New pets

Yesterday, Jen moved in her Japanese goldfish! It's name is funny and french, but I'll let you know exactly... it sounds similar to Saturnius. It's nice having a pet.

Soon, we will have two more--avocado pits named Toby and Angela that Drew and Jen have been growing. In about 14 years, we'll have an abundance of fresh guacamole.

You may be wondering--why all the moving? Most of the assistants have 7 month contracts and will leave at the end of April, and with vacation this weekend, are tying up loose ends. Caroline, Jen, Drew and I will be the only ones left to finish up 9 month contracts. We're the final four.

Poisson d'Avril

Happy Fish of April Everyone. Or April Fool's Day.

France's favorite prank today, or so I'm told, is to draw a fish on a piece of paper, attach it to an unwitting victim's back, and say poisson d'avril. This seems to be a much more gentle version of "Kick Me".

This weekend, plans for April Vacation (officially, our Easter holiday) settled into order. Unfortunately after these two weeks, the French school system only grants the occassional long weekend until June 30th. It's going to be a long two months. Don't feel too sorry for me.

Here is the plan:
Torino, Nice, Arles, Avignon, Carcassonne, Lyon and Geneva.

While we're in Geneva, I'm hoping to see some Swiss Spaghetti Farmers. If things go well, we will return to Paris in time for Aggie Muster.

Hopefully this week, the lessons on Easter stop. My teachers encourage me to teach the kids about holiday practices, including egg rolling. This is a comical myth, perpetuated by Oxford University Press and the French Education system, that British families dye eggs, then head for the hills to see who can roll their egg downhill fastest and farthest. After extensive polling, I've found no English person has ever heard of this, but 6 out of 6 French English teachers have.

Sarah's here!

Enough said. We're feasting at the creperie tonight, and I can't wait!

The good thing about living next door to a doctor

Well, for the last week, my head, throat, ears and nose have made me miserable--so yesterday I gave up on echinacea and made an appointment with the good doctor. Techincally, he does not specialize in sinus infections, but he wrote me a prescription anyway.

One of my new favorite words in french is échantillon. It means free sample. It's a pretty word--to me, it looks like a concoction of enchanted and papillon (butterfly). And did I mention it means free sample? So, he gave me a few boxes of those just in case and sent me off to the pharmacie.

Medicine here is cheap. I got 6 boxes of pills for the low, low price of 13 euros. And with insurance, they give that money right back. My exhorbitantly taxed life here is finally paying off.

Not so grim?

This article from The Economist discusses Northern France and the movie I mentioned a few posts ago... if it caught your curiosity. Perhaps it's not financially grim here, but the weather has got me down.

I love how Emily Dickinson describes it:

The sky is low, the clouds are mean,
A travelling flake of snow
Across a barn or through a rut
Debates if it will go.


A narrow wind complains all day
How some one treated him;
Nature, like us, is sometimes caught
Without her diadem.

Oh I could write a sonnet

Joyeux Pacques, Happy Easter, everyone. Normally Easter brings to mind images of bluebonnets and wild flowers; butterflies and sunshine. The day that everything lives again.

But here, he snows. He has snowed, sleeted and rained for the last 5 days. (In French, they use the pronoun 'he' to describe the weather, not it.) This is fine for a few days, but I'm not an enamoured with being in the snow anymore-- it makes everything cold. It's better to watch the large, floaty flakes from inside. So, we're back to fireplace weather. This is a picture of our roof covered in snow.

Sarah and I spent Easter in Paris! The city was decorated with winged bells, chickens, bunnies and eggs. According to French tradition, Easter eggs are delivered by flying golden bells. [Not for us though--Monsieur Bleuse, our landlord brought us some freshly-gathered eggs from his farm with a Happy Easter note.] Saturday we walked and shopped and went to L'Orangerie. Historically, the King alone could have orange trees, and this museum stands where his grove used to be. Monet's waterlily rooms are inside! Huge, oval rooms covered in his paintings of the Japanese pond in his garden. They look so impressive.

To get there, we walked all the way down Rue du Rivoli, past the Louvre into the Tuileries garden. The Louvre, seen from the outside amazes almost as much as the paintings that live inside. The architecture is so grandiose, it couldn't be anything else. It takes 10 minutes on foot to get to the other side. I'd never seen the whole facade before. They built it in sections, and each one has a different style. If you look closely, you can see white marble statues and paintings inside!

For Easter the next morning, we went to the American Church in Paris. For over 100 years, it has been a famous English-speaking church and community center. Everything was wonderful. It seemed so familiar. Light came pouring through the stained glass windows. Hundreds of white daisies covered the wooden cross. Everyone sang together... in English.

Many special little things marked the day as Easter. The cafe we stopped in afterwards attached a colorful daisy to each cup that they served. One bakery had free pieces of a layered custard cake outside. (A specialty of St. Tropez, she said.) I hate to be ungrateful for living in Valenciennes, but I wish I could live in Paris instead. Walking around there helps me understand why people adore living in France.

Luckiest Day of the Year?

St. Patrick's Day! No, French people don't get excited about it, but the footage of the rivers running green in Boston and Chicago do make the news here. My students loved learning about leprechauns and pots of gold. They really wanted to believe. I told them all about St. Patrick being captured as a slave by the Irish, how he escaped, and later God led him back there to help the people. And I love any opportunity to talk about religion in school. The kids were good and didn't pinch each other for not wearing green. Except this year the Pope changed the official date (to the 15th because of Holy Week), so that set off the chain of bad luck last Saturday night.

Theoretically, it should have been marvelous. At the suggestion of Aiveen, a friend and English assistant from Ireland, a bunch of us went to Lille to celebrate at the Irish pub. Jen even drove, so we wouldn't have to worry about getting the train back. Everything was great until we wanted to leave... at some point, it had started to rain and sleet outside. In this weather, we lost our way back to the parking garage and wandered for 45 minutes. Completely soaked and freezing, we arrived only to find the gates locked and barred. What to do? We couldn't stand outside and wait for 7am. Thankfully, we called Brian from Boston, and he let 6 shivering friends sit in his kitchen.

I can't communicate the night in detail, because it's hard to find the words. On the way to Brian's, we got a cab because walking another minute in the rain was inconsiderable. Nina argued all the way there with the driver because he had let the meter run before we got in. This was impressive and hilarious. He eventually knocked 2 euros off. Then we sat there, jumbled among chairs, a table and the shower (also in the cold, tiny kitchen) for four hours. I stretched out across three chairs and counted flowers on the wall. We dozed in and out. Long does not begin to describe the night. Finally, 6am rolled around, and we started back to the car.

Lessons learned:
(1) Always, ALWAYS check parking garage hours
(2) Bring a map
(3) Buy water-proof shoes
(4) Dont be afraid to haggle with cab drivers

Amiens

A week ago today, Drew, Nina, Jen and I set off in a car bound for Amiens, a small city in Northern France. An enormous cathedral there sits on the Somme river banks-- the tallest Gothic cathedral in France--and at night, white lights strung along the little restaurants and cobbled sidewalks by the river illuminate the town.

I'm not sure what we would have done all day if the car hadn't hit the curb in the parking garage and flattened a tire. Extremely unfortunately, the front two tires of Jen's car had just been replaced last Saturday. By now, everyone knows that problems with straightforward solutions at home have detouring solutions in France.

So, first, we went to eat lunch because mechanic shops don't open between noon and 3pm. Next, we walked to a Midas shop spotted not too far away and told the man of the situation. The garagiste said to bring in the car. This meant putting on the spare tire (the French call this a galette or savory crepe) in the cramped confines of a garage, 2 stories under the earth's surface. Jen's monkey wrench had a Union Jack on it, and her car owner's manual had tons of vocabulary differences. Apparently the British spell it tyre. All in all, we looked like a quartet of youthful robbers. I couldn't help but laugh.

When we returned to Midas, the mechanic pronouced the hole irreparable and said it "really annoyed" him that her tires were new because both would have to be replaced. Apparently in France, the tires across from each other must be the same, and he couldn't sell her just one. He didn't stock Bridgestone, her brand. The French are Michelin proud. So, he helpfully called a few other shops to see if they had Bridgestone tires and sent us away to another place with a hastily drawn map. The next place didn't have the right size Bridgestones, so she had to settle for two new tires of another brand. It was quite a Goldilocks afternoon. By the time they were replaced with the correct fitting French tires, it was practically dinner time.

So, we wandered the widest streets I've seen in France and decided on Chinese food. It's good to know chopstick instructions come in French, too. At the end of the day, we hadn't seen touristy Amiens, but we'd seen Amiens. And that's probably the point of living in France anyway.

London

London never fails to impress. Walking through the city is really traversing 6 continents. More often than not, the people striding by speak a strange and unrecognizable tongue. Convenience stores offer food products that make me wonder not only about their main ingredients, but furthermore "Who buys this item so frequently that it must be sold next to the Coke and Hobnobs?" Hobnobs are crumbly and delicious biscuits (cookies) that help make life perfectly complete. The package notes that HRH the Queen prefers them at tea time.

Everyday interactions seem magnified. For example, buying a coffee is more than ordering. It's buying a coffee in London. I love riding on public transport in London. It's not walking; it's exploring. It's not sleeping; it's an exhausted, temporary loss of consciousness. Enough people have lived there long enough that practically every borough, building, and brick has a notable history. Hotel rooms come equipped with tea kettles. Credit card machines function exceptionally quickly. This list could quickly become a dissertation of details. Suffice to say, one would not fall bored. One could possibly develop claustrophobia and blisters.

Our first day there, Caroline and I tackled Covent Garden and Oxford Street. We chuckled at street performers. We were elbowed by ladies with shopping bags. We marveled at the diversity of items possible to buy from 21st century Eliza Dolittles-- clay portrait sculptures completed in 30 minutes, reptiles coated in clear plastic, wine bottles melted down into cheese plates, clocks made from CDs.

That night, Caroline's parents took us to eat in a pub named the White Bear. It dated from 1609 (or some similar impressive ancient annum) and had a fireplace large enough for whole cows (not that there was one there). I feasted on Steak and Ale pie with mash, veg and Banoffee Pie. Very tasty British food. Banoffee is a portmanteau for bananas and toffee.

The next morning, I met the Wesley crew at John Wesley's Chapel for the 11am service. Seeing them brought nearly brought tears of joy to my eyes! We got to spend the whole day together and part of the next. The choir was on a tour for their Spring Break and performed Sunday evening at Methodist Central Hall in Westminster. The Hall is this huge and amazing building right across from Westminster Abbey. It hosted the first UN meeting in 1946. It sits directly on top of the District Line. They built it guinea by guinea in the 1800s. The guide said a guinea was worth a lot back then.

We climbed to the almost-top of St. Paul's Cathedral the next morning. What a blustery view! The very top had to be closed due to weather conditions. Coincidentally, England was having their once-a-year storm while we were there. A serious one. 80 mph winds in the West. So, the sky spit on us on and off throughout the day. But that's normal in Northern France.

It was really hard leaving them at Tower Hill and taking the Eurostar back to Lille. It's hard leaving London under most circumstances, but especially when it means parting from friends and returning to work in groggy Valenciennes. While seated on the train hurtling 120 mph towards France, one of my teachers sent me a message saying I didn't have to work the next day. What a pinnacle of irony. The next day I was understandably depressed and didn't get out until around 6 pm.

Fortunately, Wednesday, Jen, Nina and Drew saved me with a short road trip to Amiens, but that's another post.

On our way to London

Today is wonderful. Caroline and I are leaving in 20 minutes for London! Marvelous.

Fiesta!

Well, one option remains when one misses eating flour tortillas and cannot buy decent ones. That recourse? Hand-make them. So this afternoon, I pretended to be one of the floury women posted in the center island of HEB and fine Mexican restaurants who roll tortillas.

They actually came out really almost perfect, and it was fun watching them puff up on the griddle. I'm not claiming that they were all circular. Some looked more like hearts. Others...just oblongly. However, they far surpassed the shelf-stable perfectly-rounded Old El Paso ones sold here. The ones with handy picture instructions detailing how to fold fajitas and burritos.

Europeans frequently print step-by-step pictures instead of instructions (which have to be translated into 8 languages including Polish and Portugese). When in Italy, we actually found a box with a "How to Make a Bowl of Cereal" 3-part diagram. But I digress.

You, fine reader, may have noticed from the postings that things have been a bit slow here...But here goes the recap. Yesterday it snowed/sleeted. Twice. Once at recess and once at night. The French word for sleet is grele, which is exceptionally hard to pronounce. I sang Old McDonald a bare minimum of 18 times in the last week and constructed animal masks out of paper plates. I found a store named The Unbelievable--and indeed, the merchandise lives up to its name. Everything, as you may have guessed, inside is very, very inexpensive and tacky. A few of my teachers chided me for not wearing a scarf to school (thought that was sweet). And one of my friends got a job in Paris for the summer!

Unbelievable

Look: http://www.austin360.com/movies/content/movies/stories/2008/03/0303smithville.html

Brad Pitt is filming a movie in Smithville for the next three months. I'll be in France for four more. No one ever said life was fair. How much more injustice can the world stand?

Beach!!

Saturday, Sarah and I walked along the sandy, sandy beach of Dunkerque. Sandy and windy. It actually looks like Galveston with fewer seaweed trenches.

The big difference is the sea air. It doesn't smell like salt.

Roses are red

Best thing of the day:

Little Shamina's dramatic rendering of our favorite Valentine's Day poem.

"Wrose er wred" she declared while swinging her right arm out towards the class.
She couldn't get to the next line because of all the smiles and giggles.

They really like all the little Valentine cards, stickers and Sweethearts candies. I make them guess what the message printed on the heart means before they can eat it. By now, they must think Americans are nearly as romantic as them!

Welcome to the North

A movie just came out here poking fun at the north of France. It resembles the sympathetic yet stereotypical portrayal of the southern US in Sweet Home Alabama. It's called Bienvenue chez les Ch'tis and goes like this: A post office manager gets transfered from Provence (famous, beautiful region in sunny Southern France) to the Nord Pas-de-Calais where I live. He's horrified. His wife is stricken. His son thinks his dad may loose some toes to the cold, artic weather. The film reveals all the stereotypes graying the name of Northern France.

As he crosses the county line, sheets of rain attack his car. He arrives and can't understand anyone because of the dialect (an awful sounding thing). An old woman makes him eat stinky maroilles cheese on toast dunked in chicory coffee for breakfast. Then its fries, fries, fries for lunch. Eventually, he grows to appreciate and enjoy the town... but he tells his wife (still living in Provence) the opposite because that's what she wants to hear. So when she comes to visit, the whole town acts terrible and tries to scare her with exagerrations of the worst stereotypes. It's so funny.

So, imagine watching this movie in the theater filled with actual inhabitants of this region. The theater was packed solid. And has been for a week. There were rollicking laughs echoing from all corners of the theater. Anyway, the movie just made me want to go visit other parts of France and see if it's really different here... I've never really spent much time anywhere else.

A haiku

I'd be a blue whale

Freely traversing the seas

Unworried because

There's an easy return--just

Seek the Gulf Stream, then, reverse.

Back, feeling like a pilgrim

Yesterday at 11:15am Continental Flight 10 touched down in Paris... So I'm back among the snails. The trip this way was much easier! How I love nonstop flights...

Anyway, Texas was wonderfully refreshing. An absolute treat. I celebrated Val-christma-newyears-giving. Three months of holidays! My mom left the tree up, my grandparents, Uncle, Aunt and EP came to visit. We ate Christmas cookies. We exchanged gifts. The vast majority of mine consisted of transportable American food items... The contents of my leaving-Texas suitcases: 75% food, 15% short sleeved shirts and 10% books and papers. There is almost enough American contraband to open a small, imported dry goods store. Cheese Whiz is one thing I wanted to bring but decided against. Processed American cheese mousse in a canister would probably terrify the people here more than it would amuse them.

Home Sweet Texas

After traveling through four countries and six major cities in two days, I'm home! And it's so, so amazing being home on the range with the armadillo. No wonder there are so many songs about this state.

Great things about Texas:
- People are generally happy. They smile.
- Country roads. Country music. And dancing.
- Sunshine. Sunglasses make sense.
- Freebirds World Burritos with Monteray Jack Cheese.
- Trucks. Especially ones fulfilling their potential and hauling a bunch of stuff in the back.
- Family. We are having late Christmas this weekend!
- Friends. Quality time. Slumber parties.
- Beautiful chromatic sunrises (a great side effect of jet lag-- being awake this morning in time to enjoy one!)
- Livestock. Cow birds. Deer. Watching two unpinned roosters run around someone's front yard.
- Driving around seeing home and feeling it's happy I'm back.

Paradoxes

My Dad emailed last week and suggested writing about some paradoxes that exists in France.

Here are a few off-hand:

• If you see someone driving a snazzy automobile, they are probably homeless and living in a squatter RV parking lot village.
• Food here--very fat. People here--quite shrimpy.
• Strict ideas about privacy. No concept of personal space.
• All English-language movies and tv shows get dubbed over. This doesn't exactly coincide with encouraging their citizens to learn English.
• They are imagined to be fashion-forward. Actually they are caught in a time warp morphing 1960 and 1990. Possible explanation--the tv shows running now are mostly from those time periods. (Happy Days, The Nanny, The Fresh Prince of Bel Air)
• France is known for social help. Yet there's a surprising lack of signs in braille and tv doesn't have closed captioning for the hearing impaired. Also, no wheelchair ramps or bathrooms.

Pocket change?

Another idea for spare change--

The pancakes went over well last night. And by went over well, I mean went over the cabinets. Apparently there is an old French tradition that entails putting a coin into the first crepe and flipping it up on top of the cupboards. They do this for luck. But losing a yummy crepe to dusty furniture seems decidedly unlucky.

The tradition of putting a coin (or small token) in the Galette du Roi-- the King's Cake for Epiphany makes much more sense. Whoever gets that piece gets to wear a crown. (I found a tiny Luke Skywalker in one Robbie Burns Night!)

One week!

This time 24 x 7 hours from now, I will be in Texas! This fact is both comforting and agitating (because I can't want to wait patiently).

This evening's diversion-- pancakes! Happy Mardi Gras, Shrove Tuesday and Pancake Day. We're cooking Buttermilk Oatmeal (my family's recipe) and traditional English ones (for Caroline). Apparently one eats British pancakes with sugar and freshly-squeezed lemon.

Le Mur Infernal

(en anglais--The Awful Wall)
Without a doubt, we've found the best show on French television...
We saw it for the first time in Italy under the title Distraction.

Imagine this a little:
A wall (with a person-shape cut into it) comes sweeping towards the contestant. If they can conform to the shape... they stay dry. If not, they get pushed into a pool of water. There are two teams of three. The best ones are when all three together try not to get sunk. Biggest challenge so far: to spell out M U R. The commentator is a large, blonde woman wearing brightly-colored baubles and swirls. The competitors wear helmets, silver martian suits and elbow pads.

Today, the kids asked me whether or not people in Texas had televisions and cell phones. Because we talked about Australia last week, they get confused a little.

We wrote letters to an American class of kids... I wouldn't have guessed that writing "Happy Valentine's Day" on the bottom would cause an uproar. Apparently in France, Saint Valentine is reserved for couples. Couples only. There was quite a bit of blushing and discussion. No one believed that everyone exchanged Valentines until the teacher brought up Christmas cards (we talked about the Anglo-Saxon penchant for exchanging cards at every occasion).

The Superbowl is coming on tonight at 12:40am. Don't tell me who won!

France has a new First Lady

While we wandered around Paris yesterday, French President Sarkozy and his girlfriend (of two months) Carla Bruni got married. We were literally right outside the Elysees palace, and didn't even know it had happened. They kept it a secret. I'm not usually around when famous things happen, so this is very exciting.

What a new twist on the lovely day. There was a 30% chance of snow... didn't happen. Instead sky was blue and clear. We walked around alot-- from a famous flea market up through the Latin Quarter, across the Seine to the Marais. It was too pretty to ride the Metro. We also went through a flower market where leaves of all different sorts papered the walls.

Going through Montparnasse, we decided to take a peak at the famous cemetary. The graves are mostly all family crypts. Voltaire and Jean Paul Sartre are among the famous bodies buried there. The existentialist's graves made me really sad.

Spring is slowly arriving. The Jardin du Luxembourg (near the President's palace) was chirping and had yellow daffodil buds peeking out of the earth. Nothing whatsoever was living and green when we walked through last December.

We tried to get afternoon tea at the Mariage Freres-- a famous tea house-- but it was too expensive and too crowded. Instead, we had some of their tea in the Lizard Lounge two doors down and watched Paris stroll past us through the window.

Everytime I've been to Paris, my opinion of the city has improved. Two summers ago, it left me with claustrophobia and heat stroke. It's better to see it slowly--a more French speed.

Seedless Grapes

Live from Valenciennes, France. This just in-- Confirmed sighting of white, seedless grapes today at Supermarche Match. Seedless grapes are a rare phenomena in Europe. I've never spotted them before (and more reliably--neither has Mrs. L'Alliers who has lived here for years). How can a country so enamored with wine be so deprived of great grapes?

[It's funny where produce comes from here. Grapes--South Africa. Grapefruit--Israel. Oranges--Spain. Apples--Always France. Money can't buy non-national apples and pears.]

I was always baffled about the raisins here. There are no irritating tooth-sticking specks in them. Does that mean manufacturers remove the seeds first, or that the fruit is seedless to begin with? Because the former option (more likely to me) suggests that stores have willfully deprived customers if indeed such grapes are available (as we have now proved).

This seems like a silly post, but it really made my day to find (and eat) them.

Other things going on:

• Grocery Store workers in Paris (you guessed it!) have taken to the streets.
• We are going on a girls trip to Paris tomorrow. Not to the grocery stores.
• It hasn't snowed today or yesterday. Perhaps tomorrow.

Today's Weather Forecast...

Do you think this could be true? Then atleast there'd be a reason for the freezing anger from the sky. As I type this, the sun shines. Never believe it though. It just waits for the people to go outside without umbrellas!

Today Jan 31
Rain / Snow
Showers / Wind
42°/39°
70%
42°F
Check Flight Delays

A few more strikes...

So last Thursday, teachers went on strike. One of my schools shut. The other two only had a few teachers out. Apparently the school docks their pay; it can't count as a personal absence.

Today, it's the Taxi Drivers of Paris who are on strike.

It really is the national pastime.

Dublin

My grandma reminded me this weekend (an rightly so!) that no stories from Dublin and London had been posted. It's been nearly a month since my trip there. Yikes. I apologize if any of you were holding your breath. Exhale!

Imagine what it feels like to suddenly be in an English-speaking nation after 3 months of misunderstandings. When our plane touched down in Dublin (from Berlin), it was the most incredible thing. Ordering a sandwich presented no problem! Paying the correct amount of money for the sandwich was easy! Figuring out which bus went to our hotel--piece of cake. Except that they speak Gaelic, too. As evidenced by one of our TV channels and signs throughout the city. (Like this one!)

Funny thing was asking an Irish person a question. Sometimes this would lead to a furrowing and a quizzical "What?". As if MY accent was strange.

Our first morning there, we were walking to the store to buy provisions (granola bars, hobnobs and face wash)... when all of a sudden, on a quiet, residential street, an old, plaid-clad gentleman came bicycling down the hill towards us calling "Happy New Year, girls!" And that moment basically sold me on the whole country.

The highlights of fair Dublin included the seeing ancient Christian manuscripts at Chester Beatty Library and the Book of Kells at Trinity College. They have gorgeous, intricately-illuminated texts from 30 AD to the 1600s. We saw an incredible Polish Art exhibit at the National Gallery. You're probably thinking Polish Art and incredible don't normally go in the same sentence. But they were amazing paintings.

The whole city charms. Funny signs are everywhere. My favorite--the mail slot in the National post office reading "All places except Dublin." The Georgian doors on the townhouses are painted brilliant blues, strong reds, mild yellows and even Irish green. The streets are cobbled and crowded with very fast walkers. Although walking in Dublin is a visual feast, we also got to ride on red double-decker buses.

The last night, we descended the bus too soon. This meant a 10-minute walk in the cold... and the snow! Yes, it snowed on us! Huge, beautiful flakes drifted from the sky. I'd never been in snow like that before (besides briefly our last day in Berlin). The song from The Sound of Music is true-- it really does stay on your nose and eyelashes!

Peace

I've been thinking about moments lately.

This photo of a December afternoon in Paris has been the background on my laptop for a few weeks. Yesterday, I noticed how many things in this image are fleeting. Resting birds. Floating balloons. Empty bench. Stacked chairs. Stilled merry-go-round. Not the normal stance of those nouns. And that's what makes this picture exceptional. Not the black and white. Not the composition. Not the subject. Instead, the moment. Peace. Despite the wind.

Robbie Burns Night

According to the Putmayo calendar (of international CD compilation fame), Friday was Robbie Burns Night. So, always looking for a creative diversion, we celebrated with potato-leek soup, whisky and late-night poetry readings. The Scottish assistant Louise brought her Scot's dictionary and we quizzed her. What's truss? Rubbish. Birl? To spin until dizzy. And did you know whisky spelled whiskey doesn't come from Scotland?

So, in his honor, a portion of his well-loved poem To a Mouse. True and timely for those of us with a lot of life to sort out.

But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain;
The best-laid schemes o' mice an 'men
Gang aft agley,
An'lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!

Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me
The present only toucheth thee:
But, Och! I backward cast my e'e.
On prospects drear!
An' forward, tho' I canna see,
I guess an' fear!

Bloopers

You'll never believe this, but they translate the bloopers [the ones at the end of the movie] into French.

Doesn't that defeat the point?
Translating and repeating a humorous mistake is not accidental. These contrived efforts cake mud on the originality and charm that make the blooper reel special.

Where the time flies

A few people have wondered what fills the long days of a girl working 12 hours a week.

[Quite a change from last Spring when I worked some 12 hour days.]

If I was at home, things would be very different. But time, no matter where a person is topographically located, is like a vacuum--it fills itself. The French vacuum fills slowly and takes 2 hour lunch breaks. The Texan vacuum runs like a diesel truck. Here are some insights into my life. The everyday stuff. That I never thought to blog about before. More than anything you'll find my life resembles that of a pioneer. Even down to those hand-held chalk boards the kids use at school.

French Time Expenditures:

• Washing clothes by hand. In the bathtub. Wringing them out. Hanging them to dry on myriad radiators. Laveries here are expensive--$5 to wash 6 kg of laundry, and $2 to dry.
• Waiting on trams, buses and trains to arrive. There is no pick up and go. It takes about 5 hours a week to get to and from schools.
• Cooking the old-fashioned way. No microwave. No microwave dinners. Want to reheat soup? Well, just get out a pot and light the stove.
• Done heating up soup? Time to wash that pot and the other dishes... also by hand... keeps fingernails spic and span.
• Consulting the Cambridge French-English Thesaurus to figure out what someone said at school, at the market, or on Les Simpson.
• Going to the grocery store. Often. It's only wise to purchase as much as you can walk with home. Otherwise you would just have to abandon those excess groceries on the street corner.
• Exercising. (Okay this is important anywhere) Pastries lurk. They beckon. They stare.

Martin Luther King Jr. Day

Telling students the reason Americans have a holiday January 21 was incredibly difficult.

Learning about the struggle for civil rights all through school inured me to the facts. In my music repertory lately have been A Change Gonna Come by Sam Cooke and peppy songs from Hairspray...yet somehow I neglected to think about their context.

Stupefied is the best word for today. As I started explaining the background of segregation to wide-eyed French kids, I realized how awful it sounded. The ugly, ugly story finally sunk in this thick skull. Writing 1960s on the board knocked the final blow into my consciousness. That date looked so recent. So terribly barely yesterday.

It all made no sense. How could the people with peau blanc be so cruel to the people with peau noir? was the question on every student's face. In their world, races fight... in the context of religion and recent immigration. Neither reason applies. The teacher then mentioned that some racial hate groups still exist today. And it just seemed like the most impossible truth. I had no answer to the wonderings why, except that people can be terrible...everywhere.

Reflecting on this answer while riding the tram home, I thought about the pit of humanity. Reflecting on this tonight, I am struck by grace. And how great is the One who closes up that gap and saves us from the pit. It boggles my mind. And that's a great thing to be boggled over. I had been troubled because of evil. But Christ says "the Lord has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and release from darkness for the oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor." (Isaiah 61:1-2, Luke 4:18) And His message has no limit. And to me, it's the beautiful truth, the response to ugly questions, the answer to ashes.

Hmm

Yesterday I talked with an old lady.
She asked me when the bus would arrive.
So I said "7 minutes."
Then she told me I was standing in dog poo.
Because one good turn deserves another.

Once Upon A Time

My roomies and I went to the movies tonight. We saw Il etait une fois... once upon a time. You know-- Enchanted. This one's not bad, but english titles receive odd translations sometimes. I'm worried about getting home and not knowing what to call things.

Other literally translated examples--can you guess them:
The War According to Charlie Wilson (More Obvious)
Vengance in the Skin (The Bourne Supremacy)
Come Back to Me (Atonement)

Carte de sejour

And now... at last... I am a card-carrying official "Temporary Worker" in France. That means all the papers I've been filling out can be completed. I'll have medical insurance! So I don't need to be worried sick about getting sick. This card is plastic, front and back with my photo, signature, and vital information. It fits neatly inside my passport.

Other than that, things have been fairly slow. Sarah came and visited this weekend. We spent quite a bit of time on expeditions. Also, watching "The Beverly Hillibillies" and belly laughing. All four of us played Pictionary by the fire on Friday night with words we secretly wrote down on pieces of paper. Texas vs. Her Majesty's Empire. Quite a bit of cultural strategy went into the game. Although my picture of Siren looked like a consession stand and Megan threw a few nasty punches, including Cricket Bat and Elvis Presley, Texas prevailed. Now we have even more art for our walls. Our mural of kid art grows every week.

Also on a bright note:
Today the Electric company and I had a chat about a problem with our bill. Amazingly, it all worked out! Not bad customer service! No hassle at all! This event overturns my previous phobia (induced by France Telecom) of speaking on the phone with French companies. They are slowly creeping off the black list.

On a hungry note:
Saw a picture of soft tacos online. Can't wait to be home in 30 days!

Les Soldes!

The sales started today! Credit cards all over France burn and women's wardrobes burgeon.

This is a big deal in France--they only happen twice a year. So from today until February 17th, there will be big spending and mass chaos. A lot of stores shut their curtains early yesterday to prepare. I was reading an article yesterday that said the government poured huge amounts of money into international advertising, and that hotels in Paris now offer discounts on rooms, maps to stores and trilingual shopping coaches.

Caroline and I decided to go see the show. Lines trailed the dressing rooms and cash registers. Neon tickets poked out of piles of sweaters. I tried on 8 pairs of jeans, and the 8th pair actually fit. So now I have one of those weird pairs of jeans that are skinny around the ankles... the sort that I ridiculed and thought I'd never buy... the kind that everyone here tucks into their boots... and that I will wear to school tomorrow. Oh well. America may laugh, but it's normal here. Your legs stay warmer.

I think one of my favorite memories of living here happened this evening. Megan, Caroline and I settled in on the sofa in front of the fireplace and watched Hairspray on a laptop. That's it. It was simple and filled with contentment. I'm realizing that time here won't last forever. And I don't want it to go slower (a picture of beef fajita tacos made me sad yesterday), but I don't want it to go faster either.

The Full Basket

Well, I'm back in Valenciennes! The holiday went by so quickly. Seriously, the tomato in the refridgerator didn't even have time to go bad.

I wish this could be a really long, insightful and entertaining post about La Grande Bretagne (Great Britain) and our travels there, but I'm feeling a bit sick. This is just a quick message to let everyone know I'm back safely and tell one story from the day.

This afternoon, after work (a day that included a possible gas leak at school), after riding the bus and the tram, I was not thrilled to be back in France. People here speak French. It doesn't seem as enthralling now as it does the last time I left an English-speaking nation. Anyway, so I'm shopping for dinner. [One of the fun things about France is that there's a store for everything. Notably, the butcher, the baker, and the produce stand. My favorite stand, Le Plein Panier (the full basket), stands on a nearby corner. It's there that this story takes place.] At the Full Basket this afternoon, I told the man I was making a soup, and he and his wife gave wise council on how many of which vegetables to put in it. When the last turnip had been place in the sack and everything weighed, the man walked over to the celery, reached out and broke the top of a leafy stick off and tucked it in the sack. "It's nothing," he said, "Just a little something." And that single little snap set off a chain of little snaps from my head to my heart and made me genuinely happy to be back in my mid-sized, non-touristy, slightly-backwards French town. Because not many people around the world are blessed enough to have a produce vendor who thinks that a pinch of celery greens are essential to seasoning a soup and who cares enough to give that sentiment away.

Happy New Year

I am in Berlin so they say something like Frohe Neue Jahre, but my German is so rusty it is hard to be sure. We have had a wonderful time here! This is a fantastic city and I can't wait to return. Last night we met up with some friends from Valenciennes and celebrated 2008 next to the Brandenburg Gate.

Germans were going crazy with feuerwerks. Its funny hearing blasts and smelling gunpowder in a city that is full of blackish buildings still speckled and pockmarked from actual gunfire 50 years ago.