A Little Minneapolis in Gueret

I'm really leaving this beautiful land...

2009-07-06T23:45:00.001+02:00

I'm sad. I'm excited. I'm totally unaware of what is in my near future, and completely content to let it happen as it will. I know it will be wonderful.

Aubusson with the Boss.

2009-06-30T20:09:00.003+02:00

We spent a beautiful and hot day in Aubusson, "working" one last time all together (minus Kendra). Mes collègues préférés me manqueront!

Tracy's

2009-06-29T12:32:00.002+02:00

I'll be at the best bar in Minneapolis on Wednesday night, July 8th.

Movin' Out!

2009-06-29T12:18:00.002+02:00

12, avenue Marc Purat
23000 Guéret, FRANCE

23 October 2008 - 30 June 2009

Well, it's been nine months of wonderful and challenging experiences, both in work and play. Guéret has been the perfect introduction to town life in the Creuse, and I know that this won't be the last time I find my self in this part of the world. I have laughed, I have cried. It moved me.

FIN

Mushroom Pâté

2009-06-29T12:06:00.006+02:00

A Week in the Dog House

2009-06-16T11:16:00.008+02:00

I have returned from yet another exciting visit with my Aunt and Uncle in England. Three week old puppies were running around, as well as one, Sousa, left from the litter which I helped produce at Christmas. They feed the barf (bones and raw flesh) diet, and even the little ones were chowing on mince!

As soon as my trained pulled into the station, Juli, Jason, and Izzy were waiting there to pick me up and whisk me off to the finest eating establishment known to Gueret; Flunch. Joining us were "Dirty Darren" Mains, and his parents, who didn't seem surprised in the least to discover their son's new nick-name. Our little vicar...

2009-06-10T08:57:00.004+02:00

Love is an arrow, of
the dream of love.

Sunday was the day of The Giant Labyrinth of Gueret, Bollywood, and Flunch. David Bowie says it better:

La Creuse

2009-06-06T16:03:00.003+02:00

From Larousse English/French Pocket Dictionary:

creuser [krøze] vt -1. [trou] to dig. -2. [objet] to hollow out. -3. fig. [approfondir] to go into deeply.

creux, creuse [krø, krøz] adj -1. [vide, concave] hollow. -2. [période - d'activité réduite] slack; [ - à tarif réduit] off-peak. -3. [paroles] empty. ♦ creux nm -1. [concavité] hollow. -2. [période] lull.

June Already?!

2009-06-01T11:33:00.007+02:00

And all my photographers are gone.

So, it's been a while and a lot has happened. A lot of people have come through the dusty town of Guéret, and not too surprisingly, were loath to return to Paris. Doesn't it sound fantastic?! To be able to be such a world traveler that Paris sounds boring and one just absolutely can't be bothered to even go there, dahling...

So where do I start?

My mom, Gabe, and Olivia all came for one entire month, spending a few days in Paris, 2.5 weeks in Guéret, and a week in sunny Collioure (with a day trip to Colera, Spain). Olivia was able to go into an elementary school for her time in the Creuse, and she loved it! She didn't want to leave, and of course left many broken hearts in her class. Gabe hung out with me, went to work, and did his own homework at my apartment. Grandma Ann (re)discovered the joys of Calvados, a brandy from Normandy, and my mom (re)discovered all the beautiful ingredients this region has to offer, leaving completely satisfied tummies in her wake.

The house they rented, Monsieur Aupetit's house, became a second home to all of us, and was the perfect picture of bucolic French living. We hosted a Mexican feast chez M. Aupetit, including all the contraband my mother sneaked into the country from Minneapolis. The house was furnished with every type of glass possible; champagne flutes, lowballs, small snifters, medium snifters, highballs, red wine glasses, white wine glasses, apéritif glasses, digestif glasses, shot glasses, liqueur glasses... I could keep going, but I don't know the names of the rest. We served margarita in little apéritif glasses, and they went to smoothly and quickly.

Mama rented a car and we went Creusing. We visited Aubusson, the capital of tapestry, Limoges, Dechen Choling, Oradour-sur-Glâne, Crozant, Montaûtre, and then drove half-way across France to the Spanish border. We spent a week in one of the most beautiful places in Southern France, a city called Collioure.

Staying in an old fisherman's cottage, four storeys with one room on each, and view of the bay from the top, we were content! The kids' front yard was the beach, just outside the front door. They spent the week moving the beach from its spot to the first floor of the house. They'd come back with huge baskets-full of beach glass, shells, and cool looking rocks. We knew we needed to move the beach back to its rightful place when I opened up the washer and pulled out some clothes and was showered with little peices of beach glass. Oops.

The family flew out of Montpellier early in the morning on my birthday, after spending a whirlwind night at one of the lovliest families in the world, The Hugheys. Alex and I were sent off with hugs and kisses from Steve and Sheri and their 3 girls at the Montpellier train station. We spent the whole day on the train to Lyon, and then Lyon to Guéret.

I was starting to feel like it wasn't my birthday until we got home, and in my mail box were two birthday cards from Mama Finseth, a card from my Lyndale girls, and a huge box from my girl Bri, filled with wonderful birthday gifts and some amazing words. I was on cloud nine feeling all the love from home. Then, our friends Jason and Juli showed up to take us out to the country to celebrate more! Deep-fried oyster po' boys, red beans and rice, champagne (which was warm and Jason opened it up, and ended up getting a champagne shower). It was beautiful, and them being from New Orleans, gave me a little bottle of Tabasco sauce they found here. The bottle and box are both entirely in French, I couldn't pick a better souvenir if I tried.

So, I'm 24 now.

Immediately after returning, I hopped back onto a train to Paris to catch a plane the following morning to Fair Verona. My uncle Bill and aunt Ann were visiting their daughter, my cousin, Maura and her husband, Marcello, with their two children, Filippo and Eugenio (Gegè). Maura and Bill picked me up at the airport, and off we went to the land of Bassano di Grappa, and you can guess which liquor comes from that region. Grappa, Prosecco, white asparagus, United Colors of Benetton. Every time I travel with this family I feel as if I've died and gone to heaven. My uncle has turned traveling into a fine art.

We stayed in a villa outside the town for a few days. Eating piles of pasta, and wrestling with the boys were standard for each day. We returned to Verona on Sunday night, where I checked into a B&B around the corner from my cousin's house. Uncle Bill and I spent a lot of time walking the streets of Verona, him being my tour guide/historian, and me being a willing listener. We had covered so much ground on Sunday and Monday, that we decided Tuesday, for my last day, we'd go to Venice together.
After an uncharacteristic hour and a half delay of the Italian train system, we finally made it on, and made it to Venice. It was like I never imagined. Uncle, again, acted as tour guide/romantic date fill-in, and we enjoyed ourselves immensely.

The next day, I flew home feeling very happy to have spent such a beautiful week with my father's side of the family.

I spent the afternoon in Paris with Kendra, talking about things girls talk about when they're in Paris sitting on the Seine.

A few days later, Alex and I went to La Souterraine to spend the night, so we could catch a train up to Paris to surprise his parents, who were flying in on Mother's Day. We found them, and turned right around to take the train back to Guéret. Uffdah!

The visit with the Finseth's was one out of a fairytale. They visited Guéret, we stayed at Château de Montautre, and spent three rainy, tiring, but all together fantastic days in Paris. In the middle, my roommates showed up in Paris! I think pictures are enough describe the wonderful reunion that the "family" had in France. Plus, I'm feeling way too cool.

I miss my girls, and they miss me!

2009-05-09T14:52:00.000+02:00

The Innocents Abroad

2009-04-28T10:49:00.003+02:00

Yet another long stretch has passed since I've written anything on this blog. I've started Mark Twain's The Innocents Abroad, and this is what he has to say:

"At certain periods it becomes the dearest ambition of a man to keep a faithful record of his performances in a book; and he dashes at this work with an enthusiasm that imposes on him the notion that keeping a journal is the veriest pastime in the world, and the pleasantest. But if he only lives twenty-one days, he will find out that only those rare natures that are made up of pluck, endurance, devotion to duty for duty's sake, and invincible determination may hope to venture upon so tremendous an enterprise as the keeping of a journal and not sustain a shameful defeat."

He continues, "...If you wish to inflict a heartless and malignant punishment upon a young person, pledge him to keep a journal a year."

So, having admitted that this "veriest pastime" has become a burdensome duty, perhaps I will let it go and continue to chronicle my adventures, woes, loves, and thoughts until I return home in July.

I'm not eating that mom, it's crap!

2009-04-14T17:40:00.006+02:00

Papa

2009-03-22T10:55:00.003+01:00

I realized last week that this July 4th marks the 12th anniversary of my father's death, meaning that I am about to embark on a time in my life where I've spent more of it without him than with him (I was 12 when he died). I don't even know what to think about this, to be honest. Part of me feels a sense of relief, thinking that some of the intense pain and missing will start to feel better. I almost imagine it as plunging my body into a cold bath of water, how painful and shocking that is, but as time goes by, the longer I stay in, the more I get used to the feeling. The water never stops being cold. I just learn how to feel better in it.

Idus Martias

2009-03-15T10:37:00.003+01:00

ACT I.

SCENE II. A public place.

Flourish. Enter CAESAR; ANTONY, for the course; CALPURNIA, PORTIA, DECIUS BRUTUS, CICERO, BRUTUS, CASSIUS, and CASCA; a great crowd following, among them a Soothsayer
CAESAR
Calpurnia!

CASCA
Peace, ho! Caesar speaks.

CAESAR
Calpurnia!

CALPURNIA
Here, my lord.

CAESAR
Stand you directly in Antonius' way,
When he doth run his course. Antonius!

ANTONY
Caesar, my lord?

CAESAR
Forget not, in your speed, Antonius,
To touch Calpurnia; for our elders say,
The barren, touched in this holy chase,
Shake off their sterile curse.

ANTONY
I shall remember:
When Caesar says 'do this,' it is perform'd.

CAESAR
Set on; and leave no ceremony out.

Flourish

Soothsayer
Caesar!

CAESAR
Ha! who calls?

CASCA
Bid every noise be still: peace yet again!

CAESAR
Who is it in the press that calls on me?
I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music,
Cry 'Caesar!' Speak; Caesar is turn'd to hear.

Soothsayer
Beware the ides of March.

CAESAR
What man is that?

BRUTUS
A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March.

CAESAR
Set him before me; let me see his face.

CASSIUS
Fellow, come from the throng; look upon Caesar.

CAESAR
What say'st thou to me now? speak once again.

Soothsayer
Beware the ides of March.

CAESAR
He is a dreamer; let us leave him: pass.

Oh Yeah!

2009-03-14T21:11:00.003+01:00

Today, I went back to the seventh grade. I took a field trip with an association I volunteer teach for in Gueret. We took about 75 kids to a theme park called Futuroscope which is "based upon multimedia, cinematographic futorscope and audio-visual techniques. It has several 3D cinemas along with other attractions and shows, some of which are the only examples in the world." (Thanks Wikipedia).

The day started off pleasantly with the little turds making sex noises the entire 2.5 hour drive to Poitiers (the city where the park is located). Much to my surprise, none of the adults felt the desire to censor their lude conversations.

My group of seven 13 year old girls decided to fight over holding my hands and sitting next to me at every single show we went to. The boys, girl crazy and interested in 'practicing' their English with an American, followed closely behind us, pretending to hate us and not keeping their eyes off us the entire day. "My name is...!" "Hello!" "Xylophone!"

Xylophone?

What felt like 16 million Omnitheatre experiences later, I was back on the bus with my kids on our way home to Gueret. Something smelled and I told the girl next to me that I smelled cheese. She looked me like I was crazy and then said "Yeah, it smells like a really ripe Camembert or maybe a Reblochon." Oh French teenagers, I love you.

Spring Has SPRUNG!

2009-03-13T20:35:00.005+01:00

I spent the entire day with sister-wife and brother-husband, lounging in Limoges.

Barefeet.
60 degrees.
Dark French Beer.
Who could ask for anything more?

Grandpa Jim

2009-03-10T14:50:00.001+01:00

What a classy man. What a great life lived.
RIP JFN

Sun Rising over Bar(th)elona

2009-03-05T15:57:00.006+01:00

Once again, it has been quite a while since I've chronicled my adventures. I've been reticent and feeling burdened by the task, and thus, haven't done it.

I have gradually grown loathsome of my computer and the mind suck of the internet, leading me to try and stay away from it. I woke up a few Sundays ago, earlier than the birds and the sun, with a buzzing in my thoughts and body. The moon was still awake, but I still felt like doing sun salutes and other yoga poses for a few hours. Then my thoughts were poured out, inspired by a magnet my mother gave me when I went off to college, an Anais Nin quote:

“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”
-Anaïs Nin

"Waking up this morning with the sneaking suspicion that my cocoon is still closed, wrapped around me, protecting me from the pain that is life. My metamorphosis has barely just begun. But I feel it approach. An agitated, deafening cry in my thoughts preventing me from sleep, telling me to burst open, as a tulip finally breaks free from its bulb.

Spring is coming! I feel my body buzzing with anticipation, and reproductive capability. My thoughts are leading me in the direction of solitude, but I feel in my heart that my work is in the company of others – Desires to disconnect my phoneline and internet consumed me in my sleepless rest, leading me to the false hope that true isolation would be my vehicule to inner peace, enlightenment, physical strength… Only to realize that not only would this bring me further into my cocoon, but would also leave me with no practice in relating to the world.

A person afraid of relationships does not develop his or her skills by avoiding them, just as you wouldn’t avoid an instrument you are learning to play.

The call to solitude, I think, is more a desire to live simply (mixed with a fear of reaching my true potential, fear of blossoming). I crave balance within my body, and a tender mark to be left on our Earth. I dream of breaking free of the shackles of consumerism. I want to share, live in community, live within or below my means, not overindulge. I want to stop thinking that I can buy my happiness! I want to shine my brightest so that I am a contributor to peoples’ well-being – a facilitator, a caretaker.

My action now is to not hide but to take care of me in the company of others – I am a gift to the world as the world is a gift to me. I am a part of the world which I so dearly want to take care of, love, nurture."

The journeys that I embark upon aren't always physical, and my mom has reminded me to share the whole adventure. I was immediately given an opportunity to work with myself in the company of others when my brother came a few weeks ago. He, Alex, and I all dove head first into one of the most hectic, crazy, travel-intense trips I have ever taken. It was a blast, it was hard, it was so beautiful, but dammit I am happy to be home.

Seeing my brother at the airport was so happy and I felt so overwhelmed with pride and love for him. The next few hours as we started to talk and as I watched him soak in his very first European adventure, I felt like a piece of me was being put back into place. My brother, my blood, my closest person was here with me. And he's so much more of a person and a friend than the annoying little brother he once was. I'm tearing up even writing this realizing that he's home again and miss him like crazy.

We spent a cold, smokey, champagne in the park afternoon in Paris after enjoying Nick's first "a point" steak frites (very bloody). We had to take a later train to get home, and I think this happened for a reason. Our train car was filled with 15 or so French rugby fans, celebrating a victory over the Scots. The liquor flowed freely and Nick dove right in with his French. They loved him up and showered him with gifts, whisky, wine, a rugby scarf and a bottle opener from their region. I unloaded my extra Valentine's Day candy on the kids.

Drunk and heads spinning we walked into a puddle of French police officers, who stopped Nick, asked him for his passport and if he had any narcotics. I said yes. I thought they were talking about the people on the train because the word is "stupefiants." Simple mistake, and they let us go without any further questioning. Oops.

A sleepy dinner at the Creperie, and then Alex's birthday present. I was very sneaky and bought the steel guitar he's been eyeing in Gueret for the past month. He giggled and giggled and played with it until the string broke. I done good.

We headed back to Gueret the next day, after Nick slept until 3pm. I got ready for school and the boys amused themselves with ping-pong for the next two days while I worked. My brother, he brought his skateboard and one ping-pong paddle. I am still amused at his packing. So genius.

Wednesday was the longest day of our lives. We woke up for an 8 o'clock train to Limoges and then up to Paris. We had to take a bus from Paris to get to the airport in Beauvais for a 6 o'clock pm flight to Barcelona. And then the busride from the airport was almost 2 hours long. So when we finally arrived in Barcelona, it was about 11 o'clock and we were pooped. The owner of the apartment we rented told me to take a metro to a stop and then the apartment would be there. I called him again and he said "Just walk, its there, you'll find it." WHAT THE HECK?! I was so tired and frustrated. He didn't even give me the address, even though I had asked him a few times.

We finally communicated effectively enough to figure out where the apartment was, and were met by an Austrian man named Jan. He helped us into the apartment, and after payment issues that sent me into a tailspin, the boys went out to leave me alone for a moment and to find some dinner. They came back with the holygrail of comfort food: pizza and beer, and we crashed watching The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, which Nick had also packed. I love my boys.

The next six days were a blur of Nick navigating us through the streets of Barcelona based on his Tony Hawk knowledge, and Alex trying his hand at and doing very well with navigating with the maps. We played cards, drank beer everywhere, lazed on the beach, cooked amazing food, the boys almost got pick-pocketed, I bought way too much paprika, and we headed to London the following Wednesday.

Spent a few days with the Aunt and Uncle of Manningtree and their "dog-breeding complex." Straight-away from the airport, Nick requested that he have his first pint, so we headed to a pub. He relished in the vocabulary differences between English English and American English, asking if double-decker busses are called toasters and suggesting that going swimming is "going for a wet." Nick and I cooked with their Polish aupair, Aga, who made us way too many polish shots one night, and is being replaced by none other than: Alex Finseth.

That's right, my man is leaving France for 5 weeks to rid himself of any visa troubles, make some money and really bond with my British family. We're both really looking forward to the experience and the space. I couldn't share my one room apartment with anyone else, but we admit that even we need some alone time from each other. Plus, jobs are nil here for someone who doesn't speak French. I'm still going miss him.

So, Sunday, he leaves, and Jason and Meg come for a week. I have my plate full with visitors and I can safely say that I'm now pretty good at planning travel in France. With each new visitor I get to learn what works, where the best places are to go, and when to just let them fend for themselves, because, afterall, that is part of the experience!

Nick left on Monday and I cried the whole train ride back into Paris. I miss him and I miss my family and it feels so good to have that pain of missing that is true love.

I'm sitting in my bed with Alex next to me. We're both madly typing our own versions of the story. Bjork is playing and I feel at home. I spent most of the morning painting and writing a letter to a certain sibling of mine who will be the birthday girl soon.

Alex asked me how I felt and I said I felt so good. I told him that I feel totally happy with right this very second, which is rare. I usually hunger for the next thing, can't wait, want to dream about the future, but right now I'm happy. I'm going to make hummus later, with my hand turned food processor. I'm wearing fuzzy bear-claw slippers, I have hot tea in my belly and I'm alive. I'm in love with this feeling.

I'm lazy and Alex takes really good pictures...

2009-02-04T21:56:00.003+01:00

Hola. No, I'm not having kids yet, but don't they look good on me?

I have been galavanting happily over this land, far from denying my true social-butterfly nature, and just haven't made the time to write about it. Alex and I are living life to the fullest and it's glorious to see France through his "just-off-the-boat" eyes.

Life truly is settling in here for me, which is why, I suppose, I feel less inclined to document every single delicious detail.

Nevertheless, my photographer and wordsmith man is doing a better job for the both of us than I could do for me right now, so check his blog out, and you'll dig it the most, baby.

We spent a proper weekend in Paris together, checking out a sight, strolling the streets, and spending a night with some gorgeous babies and yummy Moroccon food.

After, we headed to Bordeaux for four days. My job is tops! There was a nation wide strike last Thursday, so I had five days in a row off. We went to visit my friend Sebastian and had a wild ride!

I started tutoring at the community center this week, which was so refreshing. Everyone I worked with was warm, open, and happy that I was there. This is not stereotypical Creusois behavior.

Alex and I did a little splish splash in the pool and then stayed up late eating dinner and being giggley lovebirds.

I also started tutoring two girls from the area, whose parents are paying me (the other gig is a volunteer position). We'll see how it goes!

My brother Nicky comes NEXT WEEK! We're going to Barcelona for a whole week and then to visit Auntie B#*$!& and Uncle Marc in England for a few days. We're gonna check out a Minneapolis band in London, which will blow my socks off!

In honor of the beloved family dinner, and in celebration of the multitudes coming to visit, and thanks to Kendra's friend Vanessa (who we visited in Prague), Kendra, Alex, Nick, Kendra's friend Jess, and I will be attending Sunday Dinner at Jim Haynes house in Paris on March 1st.

I read to my kids this week:

The End

When I was One,
I had just begun.

When I was Two,
I was nearly new.

When I was Three,
I was hardly Me.

When I was Four,
I was not much more.

When I was Five,
I was just alive.

But now I am Six, I'm as clever as clever.
So I think I'll be six now for ever and ever.

(From Now We Are Six, A. A. Milne) (Thanks, mom).

France is my six.

Number 44 - WOOT!

2009-01-20T17:18:00.001+01:00

I found this picture on boston.com and I think it so groovy.

Way to go Obama! Way to go America! Let's do this together!

Now I...I know I'm not in Kansas

2009-01-18T12:55:00.000+01:00

How can I explain? The past few weeks have been a strange delicious stew of all things new. Alex and I are learning how to live together for the first time ever in a one room apartment in the middle of France. We joke a lot about this being our practice for retirement.

I go to work in the morning, come home for lunch and a clean house, we take walks through the country side and stay in cooking and playing pinochle in the evenings. On one of our walks, we met a sweet dog named Tina and her owner Bruno.

I gave Alex the puppy eyes that said I want a dog, and then Bruno picked up on this offered her to us for free and on the spot. He explained that his house was for sale and that he couldn't afford to have a dog around. We exchanged numbers in order to "think about it." Alex also thought that it might be worth it to ask Bruno if he would rent out his house while it was on the market. This might be a solution to finding lodging for all the Minnesota traffic on it's way here.

He had me write a note to Bruno, explaining that Alex doesn't speak French, but I do, and can we rent your house? Well, about 20 text messages later, we realized that Bruno had in fact "fallen in love" with me, and figure the hand written note from me explaining my boyfriend's linguistic inability was an invitation to a hot and steamy affair with a foreign girl. No thanks, Bruno. We said no to the dog and the house and to giving our phone numbers to strangers.

We had to put this geriatric lifestyle on hold for an afternoon of drinking at the pub:

The care packages I receive are so amazing, I can't express my thanks enough. The latest little box of goodies was from my girls, Bri and Laura, and included my favorite shampoo, peanut butter (a HOT commodity), and in protest of my nasty instant coffee, a French press and some good ol' Starbucks coffee.

Overwhelmed by familiar tastes and smells from home, I've been thinking of you two every time I have a cup of real coffee, or, as Alex has dubbed it, "crack." It might have something to do with how I behave shortly after having ingested it, but I can't be too sure.

Kendra and I finally had our chance to watch Vicky, Christina, Barcelona, which happened to be about two girlfriends escaping their oppressive natal society for fantasies of being free-thinking ex-pats living in Europe. I can't wait to go to Barcelona.

Inspired by the art of the movie and the emotions that easily flowed with scotch, we embarked upon our own painting...

Sharing laughter and tears with my significant others, Kendra and Alex, and we all had a night of "art therapy."

It was very therapeutic.

I even think Kendra and Alex are starting to like each other.

In other news, my mom, Gabe, and Olivia are coming to visit! They will be here for almost the whole month of April, and I am so excited! I'm busy preparing for my brother Nicky's arrival in February, their arrival, all the while enjoying my quaint little life here.

When I first got to Gueret, I met an American woman in the post office who had invited Kendra and me to her house for dinner a few times, but it never seemed to work out. I knew that she owned a B&B, and so, in my search for accommodation for my family, I called her up to ask. She then informed me that it was her husband's 50th birthday and would we all like to join them in celebrating with a lamb dinner? Without hesitation I said yes on behalf of all three of us.

She picked us up in La Souterraine, and off we went to the vet to pick up a 3 day old lamb who Norma, our host was trying to resuccitate after its mother dried up and couldn't feed it anymore. We all thought about the fact that we were on our way to feast on lamb while simultaneously saving another's life. I was in the passenger's seat, holding the baby on the way to the chateau.

Dinner was a whirlwind of meeting people, eating amazing food, and holding on to our heads as they tried to spin right off. The chateau was not only enormous, but absolutely gorgeous and picturesque. They restored the entire thing themselves and the love can be seen in every single detail. The dinner guests were equally beautiful and interesting, and as we arrived home around 1:30 in the morning, Kendra turned around and posed the question, "What just happened?!"

This little one was breaking hearts all night. He posed in Alex's hat for a good 10 minutes.

kendra in her element.

Back in Gueret, life is quiet. I appreciate noticing in my body and mind how exhausting it can be to be a social butterfly. I'm energized by the experiences, and grateful for the pause.

I'm not in Kansas anymore...

2009-01-08T18:06:00.004+01:00

After three and a half months of not seeing each other, Alex and I finally got to reunite in Paris on the first! He missed his connecting flight from Dublin to Paris, and so I anxiously spent the morning with Kendra, her role being calming my nerves and teaching me a few more chords on her guitar. Thanks, K. We also stopped by to pay respects to the dearly departed resting in Père Lachaise Cemetery.

We spent three delicious days in Paris, soaking in each other the views from our apartment. I failed as a tour guide as we spent most of the time catching up. Our final day was a complete flop as we attempted to make up for lost time, scrambling this way and that to complete the few errands we had to do. We ended up missing our train, after running all over the city in search of a MoneyGram and running up 6 flights of stairs to return the keys to our apartment. Oy. We weathered it well and in good humor, after all there is not much that can bring you down from cloud nine.

Our first night in Guéret was funny. Kendra missed her bus and thus all three of us climbed into my double bed and attempted to sleep. I think Kendra and I had more fun than Alex, as he had the least amount of room at the edge of the bed. We stayed up late bonding over Flight of the Conchords... Pamplemousse.

The next night, Alex and I went on a late night walk around the Courtille. He took some beautiful pictures and we stayed warm by running halfway around the thing. We started to do the obstacle course, but quickly got bored with it.

All leading up to this was my lovely English vacation starting at the dog farm...

I went to my Aunt Jo and Uncle Marc's house outside of Manningtree, UK. They breed enormous Italian mastiffs, Cane Corsos, of which they have 13 at the moment. The second I arrived from the airport, it was time to eat some delicious food cooked by Auntie Jo, and then off to mate the dogs. What?!

What a lucky girl, you're thinking, but here's the kicker, I got to do it twice! If you know anything about dog breeding you know that they really like to spoon afterwards and for quite a while.

Grandma and Grandpa came from Minnesota, and it was really nice to have some family from home. They made Christmas feel like it's supposed to.

The rest of Christmas was a mix of relaxing walks in the country, sitting by the fireplace, hectic family gatherings and huge feasts brought to you by Jamie Oliver and some other celebrity chef whose name reminds me of jell-o. We gave the Christmas turkey a bath and I also enjoyed proper Christmas pudding for the first time.

My cousin was given a California King snake from Santa and he named it Flossy.

Uncle Marc gave us an astounding rendition of an Avril Lavigne song. All of us huddled into the lounge for most of the night singing karaoke, and I kicked his butt when we sang Fernando by ABBA.

The 27th, I trained into London to find my Kendra. We checked into an awesome hostel down the block from the British Museum. We went exploring, found a Thai restaurant, interrogated the movie theatre across the street about why they weren't playing Vicky Christina Barcelona (to which the clerk responded by saying "Are you speaking Spanish?), and decided to scrap it all and go fishing in Leicester Square.

The first night in London was rudely interrupted by some drunk "emo boy" breaking into our room at 2:00 am, asking us if we had seen a phone charger. I was so livid, I charged upstairs after him and found out that he was a drunk who had outworn his welcome at the hostel and had in fact stolen the key to try and find an empty bed. I liked the hostel too much to let that slip by, and told the big New Zealanders the next morning. They reacted like overprotective big brothers, and Kendra and I were appeased.

We went wandering all over the city, attempted to watch the changing of the guards, but decided it was too boring. I made the mistake of making my opinion public, and some offended American lady went off on me. "Nobody watches you walk around because you don't do anything special. They do." Kendra and I marched off à la beefeaters. I hope she enjoyed her show.

Now, my dear friend Kendra's last name is Goostrey and in England there is a tiny little town called Goostrey and to it we went! I booked us a room at the most darling B&B, and we hopped a train from London to go experience Cheshire charm.
It was cold and cute and we spent an entire day in bed reading one book a piece. There is an absolutely huge satellite dish in the back yard of the farm we stayed on, call the Jodrell Bank Observatory

The picture opportunities in the town were limited, so we got creative.

Breakfast was beautiful and properly English. I had black pudding the second morning we were there and enjoyed it all.

Now, back in Guéret, with my man, and my girl. I returned to work on Monday, and have to say I missed my new home, missed my students and missed the calm of not traveling. Alex and I spent a few nights with Kendra in her school, learned how to play Pinochle and put on a play.

Much more to come, I feel at home and happy!

Happy New Year!

I'm going to see about a boy...

2008-12-19T16:32:00.004+01:00

We are sure cute for two ugly people

I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else

But you.

Is it there?

2008-12-14T14:27:00.006+01:00

"Caretake this moment. Immerse yourself in its particulars. Respond to this person, this challenge, this deed. Quit the evasions. Stop giving yourself needless trouble. It is time to really live; to fully inhabit the situation you happen to be in now." -Epictetus

With time flying by so quickly, I've found myself both living in the future and trying to grab on to the hours, and days that are left and hold on to them. Already I have been here for three months and, though at the time they seemed to pass slowly, I look back on all my experiences and it feels as if I've blinked to arrive at this moment.

As tradition would have it in my Christmas world, Kendra and I decorated her mini tree to the sounds of the Elvis Christmas album at 2 in the morning on Friday night. Earlier that evening we had attended a community chorale and orchestral concert in Limoges with Melek and Benjamin (who was in the show, playing his clarinet).

We knew we were in France when there were high school students up on stage, dressed in chic black with differently colored scarfs draped around their necks, singing in beautiful harmony to the accompaniment of a harpsichord. How great is that?

The car ride home was a vocabulary exchange of road words which quickly turned in to a lesson in essential swear words when Benjamin said, in a French accent, "The windows are all fogged up." You can imagine where it went from there. All this to a soundtrack of ABBA hits.

I'm spending today cooped up in my warm little home, the slushy rain pounding down and inviting no one to come and play. I have three new books to read, and lessons to plan for the little ones, and moments to savor.

I HEART MINNEAPOLIS, Oh and it snowed here.

2008-12-11T13:12:00.002+01:00

This is the view from my apartment, it was snowing all day yesterday, but none of it stuck.

I really do heart MPLS.

I got all sorts of love in the mail today. A postcard from Pella, IA, a Christmas card from Oregon, and a big fat package from Britches! Complete with the sweatshirt I'm sporting in the picture, it also had a great picture of us in Florence, multilingual swearing playing cards, and anything else my heart could desire.

I'm feeling the pang in my heart as the holiday season approaches, as I realize that this is my first Christmas not spent at home. I couldn't ask for more love and wonderful people in my life to be encouraging me and loving me up from across the pond.

I felt like I was walking in a movie yesterday as Kendra and I strolled through my picturesque rural French town, dusted with snow and smelling of fireplaces and freshly made crepes on the street. I heart Gueret, too.

Mieux en retard que jamais: Photos from Prague

2008-12-07T14:24:00.004+01:00

On top of the astronomical clock tower, I was actually there!

I told you it was creepy...

Mmm, potato dumplings and sauerkraut.

Me, Kendra, and Vanessa. We did not intend to match.

That's right! $2.00 for that beer. Bois-la!

Gigi:Gueret, Laura:Paris

2008-12-07T14:17:00.002+01:00

My happy home!

Bienvenue!

I braved the self-sanitizing toilets of Paris...

The view from Montmartre

Just us girls in front of Sacre Coeur

Home Again Home Again, Jiggedy jig!

2008-12-07T13:37:00.003+01:00

Ahh, Dublin! Laura and I parted ways yesterday at the airport after three whirlwind days in the Irish capital.

We woke up in Paris on Wednesday morning around 6 o'clock and started what we both described as the longest day of our lives. Time seemed to crawl, as we arrived in Dublin around 11 am, and it felt like dinner time.

I think we pooped ourselves out with the anticipation of staying in Temple Bar, a neighborhood known for its night life. We bummed around and got a feel for the city, popped in and out of some shops (I bought an ankle brace to prevent further damage), and had our first "Irish" meal: Guinness and curry.

After resting a little, we decided to go check out the Guinness Brewery, an enormous multimedia center in a building the shape of a pint glass. At the top, the Gravity Bar, you can enjoy a pint and 360 degree views of the city. It was beautiful. We even got to learn the secrets to pour our own pints, certificates included.

Later on, we found a cute little Italian restaurant and ended up having great conversation and dinner for the better part of four hours. At the end, we started chatting to the couple next to us about anything and everything. They bought us flaming shots of Sambuca and our night continued in good spirits.

Thursday was spent for the most part on our own, as Laura had a tour of the Vet school at University College Dublin. I took advantage of this time and indulged my love of museums, by myself!

First stop: The Irish National Library, where there was a (free!) exhibit on the life and works of William Butler Yeats. I lost myself in in for a few hours, striking up a conversation with a history professor from Trinity, who proceeded to educate me more than the exhibit had. I found the original poem that is quoted on my father's epitaph. I felt, for a moment, that I was in Dublin with my dad.

Afterwards, I went to Dublin Castle, which was swarmed with Irish Catholic schools girls, and so I turned the other way to the Chester Beatty Library. The exhibits there were "Arts of the Book," and "Sacred Traditions." Beautiful illuminated texts in Arabic, Latin, and Chinese, as well as ancient copies of the Qur'an, Bible and Buddhist texts.

That night, we were a little tired from travel and found our selves at a pub and bored. So, I blurted out "Dublin is boring," and swoop! Five Irish lads begged to differ and offered to prove us wrong. They were out on an annual guys night and invited us along to their pub crawl. Pints, pints, and more pints, along with some dancing to good old American pop music, brought us back to our hotel room around 4am.

Of course the next day was shot as a result, and we took turns napping and feeling crabby, and preparing for our departure. We went to a super cool sushi restaurant for dinner - the kind with the conveyor belt of food going by right in front of your face. We returned to our hotel for an early night, and then music started.

Apparently our hotel room is directly above a stage, and on Saturday nights there is live music. We toughed it out for a while, but then I just had to go listen to it in person. I left Laura in bed and got dress and went on an adventure by myself. After a few drinks at what I discovered later to be the gay bar, I jumped back out onto the street into the sea of people and found, much to my surprise Laura and the bar with the music. We listened for a while (great cover band), and then tried a few other places...

Three am arrived and the band stopped. Good night Dublin.

As much as I love traveling and fall in love with the cities I visit, I am always happy to come back to the country, my little town in the heart of France. It is sunny and beautiful in the valley today, I have clean sheets and love letters from my siblings. Life is good.

A mosaic in Dublin, across the street from Trinity College

The Perfect Pint.

My Goodness, My Guinness!

More scenes from the Guinness Brewery

Cheers!

It's been a while...

2008-12-02T13:08:00.002+01:00

I'm officially connected to the world again via the internet! I will be posting photos of Prague, Paris, and Dublin when I get back on Sunday night.

It's good to be back.

Thanksgiving in a Toaster Oven

2008-11-30T11:56:00.000+01:00

Yes, that's right. The first Thanksgiving I've ever cooked took place in a middle school in the middle of France, with one toaster oven, one hot plate, three American girls, three women from Russia, Tunisia, Togo, and a French guy.

The Menu:

Green salad with a beet bought in Prague, goat cheese, pistachios and an orange vinaigrette

Crudites with home made hummus

Balsamic-Honey roasted sweet potatoes

Wild Rice stuffing with baguette bread crumbs, golden raisins, walnuts, toasted pine nuts and orange/beet dressing

Steamed garlic green beans with toasted pine nuts

Togolese hot hot hot sauce

A roasted chicken stuffed, with a thyme pepper butter rub underneath the skin

Pumpkin pie, exotic Libby can of processed pumpkin imported from the Unites States

Baguettes galore

Umpteen bottles of locally made hard cider

Yum.

I'm still in disbelief that our dinner went so well. Everything was delicious and perfectly cooked. Mady, Laura, Kendra, and I all worked wonderfully together, sharing the responsibility of creating a magnificent feast. We were joined later by our friend, Elena, who is also an English assistant and a couple who lives in La Souterraine, Melek and Benjamin.

We did our best to explain to Melek, Benjamin, and Elena the history of Thanksgiving, and what it means to us now. I also got crafty, after realizing that I didn't know how to carve a chicken, and told Benjamin that is was an American tradition for a man to carve the bird. Success!

After dinner, comatose and drunk, Kendra and I decided to put on a little concert. Her on the guitar, and us both singing "American Pie," and "Anyone Else But You," (from the Juno soundtrack). There is a video.

I am so grateful for the people in my life. How lucky am I, to find myself here with two of my closest friends from home, along with new ones, and truly enjoy each other as we are?

Happy Thanksgiving.

Piles of Treasure

2008-11-17T11:43:00.004+01:00

"What happened was, I got the idea in my head--and I could not get it out--that college was just one more dopey, inane place in the world dedicated to piling up treasure on earth and everything. I mean treasure is treasure, for heaven's sake. What's the difference whether the treasure is money, or property, or even culture, or even just plain knowledge? It all seemed like exactly the same thing to me, if you take off the wrapping--and it still does! Sometimes I think that knowledge--when it's knowledge for knowledge's sake, anyway--is the worst of all. The least excusable, certainly."

-Franny from J.D. Salinger's Franny and Zooey

Walking home in the rain, cold, jeans soaking wet up to my knees and dragging in the sidewalk puddles. The depressing stagnant grey of a November evening in the Northen Hemisphere. The days only get shorter from here.

Why, is it, then, that they seem to stretch on forever? And leave a smile on my face? Mixed with the smell of dead leaves, gasoline and dirty sidewalks is the calming, homey scent of wood-burning stoves. Everywhere.

This is the smell of my new home. I walk, enchanted by these olfactory delights and I smile. I smile because I'm able to walk, two days after spraining my ankle. (Yes, again). I smile because I feel like, after not so many years of practicing, I am learning what it means to accept what's been given. I smile because it would be a great waste of my energy to hate this weather - I can't do any thing about it, so I might as well enjoy it.

I often find myself writing out lists of all the degrees I'm going to attain, the stamps on my passport that I'll collect, the languages learned, the instruments mastered, all the while glazing over that which is right in front of me. Tangible or not, I crave to build these piles of treasure, distracting me from the experience, happy or painful, of life.

Dripping wet, I changed into my rain coat and wellies and went tromping around in the rain. No matter how old I get the ability to walk straight through puddles without getting wet will always fascinate, amaze and entertain me, to no end. Rain boots woot!

Happiness, by A. A. Milne

John had

Great Big

Waterproof

Boots on;

John had a

Great Big

Waterproof

Hat;

John had a

Great Big

Waterproof

Mackintosh -

And that

(Said John)

That.

(Mackintosh: noun Brit. a full-length waterproof coat. ORIGIN mid 19th cent.: named after Charles Macintosh (1766-1843), the Scottish inventor who originally patented the cloth.)

My Idle Existence

2008-11-13T11:39:00.001+01:00

Oh happy day!!

Back to work and back into rhythm.

I also received the Princess Bride in the mail, thanks Nadia.

The past couple of days have been spent figuring out how to get back on track after having been derailed by vacation. I was only just getting into the swing of things and then we had two glorious weeks off.

When I got back to Gueret, it was really bizarre. I felt like I was in the twilight zone for a few days. I didn't have any French administrative paperwork to fill out, nor did I have any days of work, but I wasn't on "vacation"

So what to do?

Twiddle thumbs, contemplate life, paint, cook, read poetry for hours, go for walks, plan lessons, clean house, listen to music...

I don't have to wait around for responsibility to eat up my time. As I don't have much, it would be a lot of waiting in vain.

Thanks to you all, I have so much support as I navigate the ins and outs of transplanting myself into a new culture. I know where my roots are.

Warhol Wisdom

2008-11-12T21:42:00.003+01:00

So, I added a few things to my blog, as decoration. One of them was a campy "Warhol piece of the day." Today's piece expresses so concisely what I've been thinking lately:

The idea of waiting for something makes it more exciting.

I was enjoying, savouring, my almost junior-high excitement today. I'm going to see The Do, a folk band I love, and have been planning it since July. However, excitement has peaked recently because I lack the distraction from life which I had in abundance at home.

I actually wait in anticipation for things to happen, and so, where a concert at home would be something to do, here it is an event. I'm flipping out of my boots.

That's my thoughtsicle. Bladow.

President Obama!

2008-11-06T18:18:00.003+01:00

I received a text message at 4:47 am (France time) yesterday morning from Alex:

"So it happened! Obama is our president!"

Kendra and I, in our slumber, muttered something along the lines of "woo hoo..." and dozed off. She shot straight up in bed about an hour later and said "Wait! How do they know so soon?!"

Still Asleep, I muttered, "...must'vebeena LANDslide..."

"Oh, yeah, a land slide."

An hour later, both unable to sleep, we needed physical proof that this had indeed happened. She went out to buy a paper, but of course the French papers had already been printed before the news was out.

So we popped open a bottle of champagne and celebrated with mimosas and fresh croissants. Drunk at around 10am, we decided we needed to see it in the flesh. We didn't want to have finished a bottle of "Champagne in vain for McCain." We bundled up an dheaded to the Turkish kebab place where we've become regulars.

Our friends immediately turned on the TV to the news and I started crying. I know I've never been moved to tears by anything in politics. Seeing that we elected this great, handsome, capable, compassionate man to be our leader gave me chills and a sense of pride in my country that I have never felt in my life.

Oh, baby.

In other news, life is rolling along here in Creuse. I got paid for all the work I've done this month, so I have money in my bank account. I got my check book and bank card and they are so cool... I actually live here!

I also received my first package from the US today!!! Alex sent me some music and pictures and dark chocolate peanut M&Ms. He also sent a sweet T-shirt that has a big red heart on it saying "Someone in Minneapolis loves me." I'm a lucky girl, and he has set the bar very high for care packages.

I put it on right away and wore it to work this afternoon. All the kids freaked when they saw me wearing it because they know that their super cool American English teacher is from Minneapolis, so they were really proud to be able to read my shirt. Represent.

P.S. I love you too, boo.

Did you just call me Harry Potter and ask me to do a shot with you?!

2008-11-03T17:34:00.000+01:00

Home again, and by home I mean the apartment I rented right before I went galavanting across Europe for two weeks, and spent one night in. It was amazing to me, stepping off the train last night, to smell the air and see the stars, to have the comforting sense of familiarity. This really is becoming my home and I think I forget that sometimes. Or, it has yet to sink in.

Recapitulation of the last few weeks: After Montpellier, Kendra and I took the TGV, first class, to the airport in Paris, noticed how tall people are outside of Creuse, met a Czech boy who gave us a crash course in the Czech language, and got on a plane headed to Prague. We arrived in the Czech Republic after spilling Heineken all over ourselves on the flight and I really wanted a stamp on my passport. I said "Ahoy, anglicky?" to the very large angry customs officer, who frowned at me and said "A little."

"Stamp? Passport? Please..."

"No stamp. It's Schengen."

"Please?"

"NO STAMP! Schengen."

"Dyoukyouyou." (Very poorly pronounced thank you).

Man. I really wanted a stamp. Defeated I returned to baggage claim to kind Kendra, and we exited, passing my new friend on the way out. If looks could kill, I'd have been dead that night. If wrinkles on the forehead from frowning were gold, that customs officer would be a kajillionaire.

We met Kendra's friend, Vanessa, and took a bus and metro ride back to her apartment off of Wenceslas Square. Immediately upon hearing the name of the square, I started singing "Good King Wenceslas," and Vanessa chimed in. Can you believe that Kendra has never heard that song before?

The apartment sits on a street scantily clad with red and pink flashing lights for "Cabarets," or sex clubs. There was never a dull moment outside their door, and across the street sits a Mexican restaurant. Bizarre.

Kendra and I explored Prague together, and as mentioned earlier, I got a Czech haircut. The man's name was Martin, and he was from Birmingham. Needless to say, my hair was not lost in translation, but the taxi ride to the salon cost more than the visit did. We got ripped off. Big time.

We were running late, so we walked up to a taxi driver and asked him to drive us to the address. We got in and there was no meter. I followed our route on a map and we went all over the freaking city to end up not far from where we had started. And then he charged us 900Kc. That is roughly 50 USD. The ride lasted 15 minutes. Dang. I wish I spoke Czech so I could have protested. I wish I had known that it was an unfair price. It was my first day and I was completely at the mercy of this man who saw a money-making opportunity and seized it. C'est la vie.

We "flaneured" all over the city, found a little restaurant serving potato dumplings and Pilsner. One of the coolest things about Prague is that patios are still open, even thought it is 35 degrees outside. We had fleece blankets and heaters and enjoyed our first Czech meal.

Beer is cheaper than water. Seriously. $2.00 will buy you a pint of Pilsner on tap, and $4.00 for a tiny bottle of water. The choice is clear.

The next day, we went to was is affectionately called, by the exchange students, the "Baby Tower," the former Communist TV station. It is so ugly that after the Velvet Revolution, they decided to beautify it. They commissioned an artist to install bronze statues of faceless naked babies crawling all over it. It is terrifying.

For Halloween, instead of dressing up as girl-crazy French men, we acted like grown-ups and went to the Czech Philharmonic. For $2.50 each, we enjoyed two blissful hours of live Strauss. Oddly enough, we walked out of the building singing a Veggie Tales song. Where did that come from?

Kendra and I headed out of Prague for the day on Saturday to go see the castle in Karlstejn. The walk from the train station was 2km and included a stop for "grog," hot water with rum and sugar, and gulash, not the midwestern version. Big bread dumplings circling a plate of hot tomato sauce and chunks of stewed beef with one sausage in the middle of the plate and a dollop of horseradish. These people do not skimp on the hearty food.

Finally arriving at the castle, we bought tickets from a boy version of Fabio, and waited for our tour. The "English" tour was given by a Czech girl who pronounced about half of it according to the phonetic rules of Slavic languages. We read the pamphlet.

Upon entering the Castle, there is a sign in Czech that is translated into English which reads: "Translated Prohibited." Of course it means, don't translate the guided tour that people pay for into another language so that people can pay you, but it was funny. The sign itself is translated.

It was this sign that bonded us to our new friends, Juliano and Marcello. The tour was boring, so we made fun of it like high schoolers on a field trip, and went out for drinks afterwards. We all took the train back to Prague together, and decided to meet later, to throw doughnuts at each other.

Let me explain: I read in a tour book that there exists a cafe in Prague were, for 2000Kc ($100), you can purchase both a massive bowl of day-old doughnuts and the right to throw them at the customers in the cafe. Inconceivable!

Fancy that, it used to be allowed, but they stopped the practice a while ago. Rumor has it, though, that the tradition is being resurrected next year. I know where I'll be next Thanksgiving.

We did try another Czech specialty while mourning the loss of our activity for the night: Dark Beer. It was glorious, dark dark dark, and delicious. I had two glasses.

Our flight back to Paris was changed to the next morning, so we headed back and were relieved when we heard French being spoken in the airport. We hung out in the Latin Quarter until our train, drank Champagne on the Seine and ate crepes. Vive la France!

Prague!

2008-10-31T17:54:00.002+01:00

I climbed out onto the roof last night, and this was the view.

See: Celebrity

2008-10-31T11:27:00.001+01:00

Celebrity

And now I will explain. A few weeks back, Kendra and I were talking about how "famous" we felt every time we went to our schools. The students immediately fell in love with us because we came from so far to be their English teachers. We used the term "celebrity," loosely, without knowing what, in fact, was required to gain true celebrity-hood.

Wikipedia played its part in squashing our dreams, informing us that we needed media attention to officially become celebrities.

Lo and behold, the very next day the local newspaper called up and wanted to interview Americans on the upcoming presidential election. Media attention.

The interview process was a hoot. Kendra and I had our photos taken out on the street and the entire office said they could hear us laughing from inside. We started in French, and then, having to bounce some ideas off of each other in English, discovered that the journalist spoke even better English then we could manage in his language.

It was a really interesting experience, and one that helped Kendra and me articulate our feelings on the political environment of our country.

We were also interviewed about Halloween, or as the article says, "All Hallow Even." Both of us were relieved not to have been asked what our costumes were going to be: Pepe LePew style French men.

Happy Halloween!

Fantastitsky

2008-10-30T10:35:00.003+01:00

Things I did yesterday:

- inadvertently ate nail polish

- had an inflight beer on my way to Prague

Things I'll do today:

- get a hair cut in Czech

- buy thousands of crowns

Czech it out.

Off to Prague!

2008-10-29T09:19:00.004+01:00

You know who I voted for... By the time I get home to Gueret, the U.S. will have decided (hopefully) upon a new president! Go and vote! Vote vote vote!

The Mediterranean

2008-10-28T21:40:00.002+01:00

I live somewhere

2008-10-28T17:55:00.000+01:00

Official mailing address:

12 avenue Marc Purat

23000 Gueret FRANCE

Send me some love!

Montpellier

2008-10-26T20:54:00.001+01:00

I was born, bred, raised, programmed and otherwise created to be part of a family. Chaos is comfort. So, much to my happy surprise, I find myself staying with an Midwestern American family in the city where I first experienced France: Montpellier. The Mediterranean out our window every morning, and downtown a short bus ride away, our vacation is starting off wonderfully.

We went to church this morning. Kendra and I got into the Sunday School masks... We spent the afternoon lazing on the beach, dipping our feet in the water and chasing minnows. Family dinner was followed by doing the dishes assembly line style, while performing a Beatles rhapsody.

We all speak Frenglish together, which is amusing to no end. The two girls, ages 11 and 12, bickering and the dog, Moses Jones, barking nonstop, is all music to my ears. I appreciate having a mom and a dad and a bedtime to help my burn through my cold as we head to Prague in a few days.

Celebrity

2008-10-24T21:53:00.000+02:00

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

A celebrity is a widely-recognized or famous person who commands a high degree of public and media attention.

The word stems from the Latin verb "celebrere" but they may not become a celebrity unless public and mass media interest is piqued.

2008-10-23T17:31:00.000+02:00

Happy Halloween from all my little pumpkins!

Wellies!

2008-10-22T16:35:00.000+02:00

It's raining today. We have the day off. It's very awkward to buy rubber boots at a grocery store. More awkward is changing out of our wet shoes into the boots. Lots of people staring.

It's Complicated

2008-10-22T15:52:00.000+02:00

In order to become a "Living Language Assistant" in France, you must be fluent in English (mother tongue is a preference, though not required), fill out an application, copy it three times, attach photographs for each copy, request recommendation letters, mail it, wait for acceptance, accept acceptance, purchase a ticket to France, schedule an appointment at your nearest French Consulate, make 3 copies of every piece of correspondence from the French Ministry of Education, arrive at said French Consulate, hand over said copies and voila! You have a visa that allows you to stay in France for three months, and also allows you to apply for a "Carte de Sejour," a residency card that is valid for 12 months.

This is standard for any kind of application to a program abroad, and painless...

Then you arrive in France, and every thing's going smoothly, and SPLAT! You've just fallen into a pit of quick sand, better known as French bureaucracy. Dig this: in order to get paid, you have to have a bank account. To have a bank account, you have to have an address and proof that you've applied for your "carte de sejour."

In order to have an address you have to have a bank account to pay for said lodging, or ask for proof that you've been housed somewhere. In order to have proof that you've been housed somewhere you have to go to the "Inspection Academique" and request an "attestation de logement" which must be printed on official stationary, and signed by Mr. Inspector himself.

In order to have proof that you've applied for your "carte de sejour," you have to apply for your "carte de sejour." This requires asking for a "proces verbal" which must have three signatures and copied 4 times. Again, Mr. Inspector signs this. You have to have copies of all the documents which were sent to you in the US, plus copies of your birth certificate and passport, and have had visited a doctor to make sure that you're in good health.

In order to visit a doctor approved by the school district, you have to have mailed a piece of paper to an association that manages the foreign workforce who will then send you a date and time when you have an appointment with said doctor. You have to go to the doctor's appointment and get a piece of paper that says that you are healthy enough to benefit from the health coverage provided by the government.

You have to have applied for a social security number to receive both your salary and medical coverage. You have to have a bank account to apply for a social security number.

You have to have an address to apply for a bank account. (Yes, I'm dizzy too). In order to rent an apartment to have an address (and a place to live), you have to have a bank account.

You have to go through a realtor.

You have to have renter's insurance.

You have to pay one month's rent and agency fees equivalent to one month's rent and renter's taxes for the entire year.

In order to pay these fees you have to have a bank account.

I'm working on getting a bank account, and regaining my balance.

The thing is, nobody seems to be in a hurry, and neither am I. I come from the country of instant gratification and I actually am enjoying the lacking sense of urgency throughout this entire process. These things will be sorted out and in the mean time, I get to focus on teaching, experimenting with food, and my French.

I'm so lucky to have such cool little brother. Gabe wrote my students a letter which I've turned into a worksheet. They will have to recognize words we've learned in class, and guess the meaning of others. Gabe will probably feel like a movie star because their homework will be to respond to his letter.

I've been spending my hours after work in the chemistry lab that is my kitchen. Creativity with food has been what's happening as I acclimate myself to nothing being open on Sundays or Mondays and almost everything closed at 5pm. Living in the Creuse feels a tad more French than when I was in Montpellier or Paris.

Cultivating my penchant for nerdy linguistic activities, I made myself a dictionary of words and colloquial sayings that I learn along this journey. I modeled it after one that belonged to a teacher whose students I teach. I didn't ask, but it looks like she made one for each of her 25 students. It is complete with tabs (hand cut) for each letter of the alphabet.

You know how you remember an adult having told you something in your youth, and you, thinking it was idiotic thing, tossed it aside in disgust only to realize later how relevant it really was? This happens most often with our mothers. Well, to all of my French teachers EVER: Keeping a personal dictionary is an awesome thing. Thanks, and sorry (to me) for not taking the time. You were right. (You too, mom).

I'll remind you all again to look at my brother's blog: THIS IS A BLOG at blogger.com. He posted some beautiful pictures of Minneapolis, including some interesting angles of the Franklin Avenue bridge and great ones of the Midtown Farmer's Market. Fall is in full swing here, and the temperature keeps flip flopping. It is very similar to a Minnesota fall, though I miss seeing the Mighty Mississippi aflame as the trees change.

I walked around Courtille on Sunday, and I think every other person in Gueret thought to do the same. Beautiful sunny afternoon, kids, dogs, picnics, petanques, bicycles, and lovers.

I thank the powers that be for letting me live and work in Gueret. I am one lucky girl.

Teaching English 101

2008-10-20T16:05:00.000+02:00

So I've started teaching, and it is so fun. You know that feeling you used to get before the first day of school? That feeling of incontrollable excitement that kept you up all night. Your thoughts racing: who your friends were going to be, was your teacher going to be nice or mean, what to wear... Well that was me, last night, and all weekend. Last week I had two classes on my own, but today I feel like I really started.

I forgot how much I like lesson planning, and I get to color! All the time! This week, my students are learning all the vocabulary words that go along with Halloween. I'm reading them a really cute book with lots of sound effects. I've gotten the chance to return to 2nd grade, and I couldn't have been placed at a better age level.

I teach one more full day this week and then it is vacation time. Already?! I get about two weeks off after having just started. So far, this schedule is very manageable. So Kendra and I are going to Prague and Montpellier for about a week. Should be great, I'm sure I'll have some pictures to put up from the Czech Halloween party we're going to.

Adios!

Tutto va bene

2008-10-17T22:33:00.000+02:00

I stole bread from a restaurant tonight. Not because I need it, not because it's expensive, not even because I wanted it. Just because I could. I wanted to be sneaky, which I learned the word for in French today. Voila.

My brother started a blog which is totally awesome and you should all read it:

http://whoatotallysycadellicman.blogspot.com/

It's getting better all the time!

2008-10-15T17:07:00.000+02:00

So the dip in the graph was confined to the weekend. My ankle is getting better my life is settling into a rhythm here in Gueret. I move into my new apartment next Wednesday! I met all my students this week and started teaching! Kendra and I are planning our trip to Prague for next week!

I added pictures to paint the picture of my suffering. All is good. I'm in love with what I'm doing.

I'm trying to see the beauty in your existence

2008-10-12T17:32:00.000+02:00

Woe is me. At almost four weeks, I've reached what has been described to me as a dip in the graph of happiness and enjoyment of living abroad. I write this not to complain, nor to express a desire to change anything about what I'm doing, but to honestly describe my experiences. If it were all sunshine and flowers, how bored would I be? And how mistaken would you be, upon embarking on a journey of your own, having read my deceptive blog extolling on how happy I was the entire time, to later find out that, in fact, stupid shit really does happen?

I sprained my ankle, yes. Its green and black and I can hobble around just fine. Kendra and I trained back from Paris yesterday afternoon to the soothing sounds of Dan Savage and his weekly sex advice column podcast. We arrived back to La Souterraine having exchanged crappy grey Paris weather for clear blue skies, sun, and warmth. We opened up all the windows in her apartment relieved with the feeling of "home," and took her guitar and my gimp self to the cemetery.

It was there that we spent the rest of the day staring at the sky, putting on a concert for all the lovely French people resting in peace (what a great audience), and later exploring the mausoleums of other dearly departed and discovering a broom that was too much like a witch's not to straddle it and pose for pictures.

Our plan was to return to the "Creperie Occitane" for dinner, but we were sorely disappointed to find out that on Saturday night, you need a reservation. Could it be because it is the only restaurant worth a squirt of piss that is open? Naive and hungry, we walked down the street to a "Cafe Restaurant," where we had enjoyed coffee before and so decided to give their dinner menu a try.

Neither of us have to vocabulary to know what we were ordering, but we figured we'd find out when we got home to our dictionaries. I ordered "museau," and Kendra ordered "andouillette paysanne." Translation: Pig snouts and intestines stuffed with intestines stuffed with intestines. My dear friend, steel-lined stomach that she wishes she had, attacks the dinner after saying "I want to join the PeaceCorps, I'm going to have to learn how to eat this."

Anyone who knows me can vouch for the fact that I've come a long way from my adolescent attitudes toward food. I even, at times, consider my self adventurous when it comes to eating. This was an instance that required not an adventurous spirit, but a discerning palette. Bad food is the same in every corner of the world, and in any language.

To add to our dining experience, a group of totally trashed young fools were sitting outside next to us. I would be lying if I said I wasn't a little jealous of their inebriation and complete disregard to their surroundings. One of the guys was violently ill all throughout the meal. He was actually coughing to the point of vomiting. He stood up every 10 minutes, walked to the bushes and did what Kendra and I so envied to do; threw up his dinner.

We returned home, frazzled and exhausted, trading fits of laughter for the tears welling up in our eyes, and went to bed.

Nana Pub

2008-10-10T19:39:00.000+02:00

Oh, Genevieve. A trip would not be complete with out its fare share of injuries. In my case, a sprained ankle.

Kendra and I planned a lovely weekend in Paris before we start teaching on Monday, complete with a day trip to Versailles, mass at Notre Dame, and lots of walking.

Never in our wildest dreams would we have taken a two and a half hour train from Creuse to come to Paris, have coffee, check in to a hotel and sit on our computers. Dreams can come true, because not 45 minutes after stepping off the train at Gare d'Austerlitz was I stumbling like a 95 year old drunk Gumbi in front of what felt like the entire city of Paris. I heard my ankle 'pop' and knew I would be taking up residence on the sidewalk for a while.

As I was falling, I looked up at Kendra and explained, "This is my ankle."
An older man insisted that I couldn't sit on the ground, and could he call an ambulance? And oh, by the way, the French love the Americans because so many of us died for France in the war. That counts, you know.

So my 6' tall, Gobles, MI born and bred dear friend Kendra served as my pack horse, crutches, tour guide and body guard for what seemed like the longest walk of our lives. We saw the metro stations in an entirely new light at the blinding rate we were traveling. Enough time to thoroughly study, translate, discuss, and ridicule every ad posted on the wall. Enough time to practice saying "I can see Alaska from my house," until we couldn't tell each other apart from pitbulls, without lipstick, that is.
Arriving at the hotel was a relief. We exhaled, plugged in and zoned out. Sick, right? Mady came to see us, picked up an ace bandage and an ice pack and then peaced out to go be doted upon by all of the men in Paris. Kendra went to find food and came back with a bottle of wine and two packages of cookies. After 15 minutes all that was left was a package of cookies.
I couldn't submit to the will of the world, and well my ankle. So I decided we needed to leave our hotel room, and see the Eiffel Tower in all of its gaudy glory lit up at night. 19 metro stops later, we arrived to find not the Eiffel Tower but a giant neon blue look alike paying homage to the EU. What the hell? It sparkles too...

The Seine is beautiful by night, and the sound of jingling Eiffel Tower key chains is music to my ears. "Hallo girls, wan you-roh wan you-roh. Hallo!!" A few steps more and I would've fallen and sprained the other ankle. We hailed a cab and saw the rest of Friday night Paris in October as a blurred stream of bistro signs, cigarette butts, pursed Parisian lips in the midst of heated conversation and finally a glowing beacon in the night: our hotel. Good night Paris, better luck next time.

Love, Brigitte Bardot

2008-10-08T15:09:00.001+02:00

The first thing I saw in the news today when I opened my computer was a headline in French announcing that Brigitte Bardot had written Sara Palin a letter. How sweet.

Yesterday I had a grand tour of all four schools where I will be teaching. Little by little, I am learning the ins and outs of the French education system. I have students from age 6 to 10, and they all seem so excited to learn English, and impressed that their new "maitresse" is from the United States.

When I was introduced and they found out where I come from, there was a loud gasp all across the room and their eyes popped! Everyone knows about New York, some about Hollywood, and Barack Obama. A few knew Denver, pronounced "Dahn-vay," but none of the children, or teachers, know where Minneapolis is. Their homework for our first class is to locate it on a map.

After spending a day in the schools, meeting students and colleagues, walking around Gueret is a completely new experience. I've been recognized on the street as the new American teacher, and so warmly welcomed.

Je te danse!

2008-10-08T14:13:00.001+02:00

This may be my future home... so cute and so clean and the bed is bigger than an airplane seat. Always a plus.

A few pictures from this weekend in La Souterraine with Kendra, complete with our shock at realizing we took the wrong train, a picture of the Limoges train station, Kendra and Rachel (another assistant), the Saturday morning market in La Sout, and a little city scene. So quaint!

Ces bottes sont faites pour marcher...

2008-10-05T15:03:00.000+02:00

OCTOBER 3

What a difference a day makes. Twenty-four little hours. Today started off like a dream. I woke up at 6:30 am without an alarm, had freshly cleaned clothes, and was ready to trot off to Limoges for orientation to my job. And then, upon arriving to the station a few minutes late, I was relieved to see that our train was late too! An hour later, the loudspeaker announced that we had arrived in Chateauroux, a town one hour in the wrong direction from Limoges. Shhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.

The next train didn't come for another hour and would take an hour and a half and then another half hour on a bus, getting us to our meeting at noon, just in time to sign some papers, get really confused, and go to lunch. The better part of the afternoon was dedicated to other assistants who needed to figure out their schedules and an introduction to lesson planning (which we had already done a few times this week). So, our trip to Limoges was worthwhile for about 15 minutes and then it was time to get the hell out of there and attempt to have a better day.

I'm spending the weekend with Kendra, who has an apartment as enormous as mine in the middle school in La Souterraine. We moved her in today and then went to a restaurant for dinner. We found the most adorable lovely delicious inviting "créperie," with about 7 tables and many families dining together. I had an admirer from across the room all night; a 4 year old Italian boy making eyes and funny faces at me to the point of incontrollable giggles. I think I might have pissed his dad off after a while because I was provoking such impolite table manners, but I didn't care, we were in love!

The food was, of course, amazing. Buckwheat crêpes called "galettes," cooked on a pan with lots of butter, filled with house made andouille sausage, fried onions, and emmental. A carafe of house wine and we were rosy cheeked American girls with nothing to do but enjoy! We spent the remainder of our waking hours speaking in French, looking up words that we felt were pertinent to know: gate, fence, slippery hill, climbing, jumping, tripping, falling. Needless to say our trek home was quite the adventure!

Zut Alors!

2008-10-04T15:21:00.000+02:00

Well, another great start to a day. I woke up, took a bath, got dressed, and started doing the dishes for breakfast. I put my hand and the sponge into a mug, took one swipe and blod was everywhere. I sliced my pinky finger with a shard of porcelain that was sticking out of a crack inside of the mug. Half an inch long and deep enough to almost touch the bone, it is really disgusting and painful and should probably have stitches but I think a "Made in France" scar would be the ultimate souvenir. Ahhh! I have a picture, but I'll spare you.

After I bought some antiseptic and "blood stop" bandages, we made our way to the Saturday morning market. It is in a beautiful grove of trees and has everything from matresses to chickens to prunes. Big, stinky wheels of cheese no smaller than a large dog, farm fresh eggs and artisan breads and sausages. I went to take a picture of the cheese and the woman was not happy that she might be in it, yelling "Oh la la!," as she ran to hide. Oops.

We stocked up on beets, zucchini, tomatoes, lettuce, strawberries, garlic, and the best baguette I've had so far in France. We came home for a rest and because everything is closed from noon to 2 o'clock.

This cute town, it takes 5 minutes to walk from one end to another and has the medieval city wall still standing with different "doors" into the city. All the roads are in a circle around it, and it makes it feel as big as New York City to a stranger. We walked to the "outskirts" of the city to a junk store, kind of like Tuesday Morning in the States. The first thing you see as you walk into the store is a shelf of porn and flesh covered tea pots that have penises as their spouts. Oh. La. La. I welcome any special orders, at a small fee.

I found a funeral home across the street and had to go inside. I think its safe to say that I'm missing a certain American mortician, and that drew me in. The thing I've noticed about this region is that there are loads of babies and old people, and therefore, loads of schools, pharmacies, and funeral homes. I talked to the directore, who complimented my "perfect" French, and left.

I then had my first experience at the infamous French "hypermarché," a step up from the super market, its a HYPER market. What grocery store lets you have a glass of wine and foie gras as their sample?! This is ludicrous and delicious and should be implemented in all stores everywhere. Shopping has never been so relaxing.

We returned home, I cooked, we feasted and had a bottle of Bordeaux, and then went to the movies. La Souterraine has a one-theatre movie house, connected to the little public library. It was playing an Egyptian film titled "Chaos," in Arabic, with French subtitles. Two hours of cheesy soap opera drama, gratuitous and disturbing violence, and the pleasant portayal of real voluptious women as sexy and beautiful, we walked out of there so satisfied having simply understood what happened. Our language skills surprised and delighted us, even if the movie was bad.

**pictures coming soon**

Le Livre de Jungle

2008-10-02T23:05:00.000+02:00

So, turns out Disney is really awful in French. Kendra and I were watching the Jungle Book tonight because it is one of my favorites and it was featured in one of our lesson plans today... Oy! No thanks.

I had my first day of "work" today. Les francais really know how to do it. We all met at 9 for coffee and sweets and then went about the work of talking with each other about the parameters of our jobs as teachers. Then it was time for lunch--and I know what you're wondering, the answer is yes it DOES take 2 hours to have a proper midday meal--le plat du jour was an enormous pork chop with mashed potatoes, "puree de la maison," and gravy, with apricot mousse and cafe for dessert.

We spent the entire afternoon attempting to sort through all of our schedules, and our training for the next few weeks. I have four different schools I will be working in, but never work on Wednesdays (the kids only go to school MTThF here!), and only once per month on Fridays. Uffdah, ya!

We ate dinner at chez Evelyne, she made quiche, with fresh eggs from the farm nextdoor, which was delicious. I got to taste "gateau creusois," which is a moist buttery cake made with hazlenuts, egg whites and flour. Yum.

I've started noticing the regional specialties and this is what I have sofar: the aforementioned cake, baguette a la gueretoise which I have yet to see or taste, and pate aux pomme de terres which looks like an enormous baked brie with a crown, golden buttery crust and thinly sliced potatoes and cream on the inside. Looks amazing and Evelyne's mother apparently has a recipe that I might someday get my hands on!

Kendra and I are planning our vacation at the end of October which starts on the 24th and goes until the 6th of November. We will most likely go to Paris and visit Mady, meet Tomas (the older brother of an exchange student of my grandparents...), go with him to a soccer game in Kaiserslautern, Germany, and then from there fly to Prague to visit a friend of Kendra's, fly to Montpellier to stay with family friends of Kendra's, and train back to Limoges when it is time to go back to work.

Sounds like a lot, but with people we know, Ryanair flying free from Frankfurt to Prague (and only 15 euro to Montpellier), and our "Cartes 12-25" from SNCF (cutting our train fares in half), it is entirely possible to do it on the cheap. How can you not love Europe at this age?!

We'll see where our travel ambitions lead us.

News in Gueret

2008-10-01T18:01:00.000+02:00

As I am spending part of my afternoon reading the news, I find an article on the NY Times website that seems to be a French perspective of American politics as seen from an American point of view, which, I suppose is something I could offer as I spend more time picking the brains of those around me.

In other news, I have found, and this is for Britches, and IRISH PUB in Gueret. They're everywhere and we're going to write a guide book.

I'm spending my first night alone here as Kendra has gone off to move into her high school accommodations in La Souterraine. We start classroom observations tomorrow and I get to have a sleepover at Evelyne's house again (yay!), and then its off to the big city of Limoges!

We have an orientation for all of the assistants in the Limousin region, and there are around 200 from all over the world. I think it will be a mass exodus from the train station on Friday morning.

Not much else, I love it here and my body does too. I get to cook for myself again and buy really cheap wine. Sending much love!

2008-09-30T18:56:00.000+02:00

I also now have a cell phone in France! The number is +33 06 12 71 80 40. So now you guys can call me and it won't cost me a thing... Of course, I still have skype and love getting voice messages from everyone.

Oh la vache!

2008-09-30T18:15:00.001+02:00

A few pictures of the "plan d'eau Courtille" which is like Gueret's equivalent of Lake Calhoun. People running, walking, basking in the sun, picnicking... I walked all the way around it this morning and took some pictures of the stunning country side. The town is built in the hills and has tiny little pedestrian alley ways everywhere. People smile and welcome me wherever I go.

I feel the space of this spot in the world and it is a breath of fresh air. I woke up this morning to the sound of screaming French kids outside my bedroom window (since my apartment is upstairs from the school, I really do look out onto the playground!). I brought Grandma Nita's Hatha Yoga book and started reading it today. I wanted to share a paragraph that I especially connected with:

"We are constantly in a state of 'becoming,' and we make choices every day as to what we experience, as to our thoughts, our relationships with other people and the environment--even as to rest, exercise, and nutrition--which influence what we become. Be conscious of these choices as you make them. None of them are unimportant. All add up to what you are and will be."

-Nita Nickerson, Hatha Yoga: Class Notes

I liked it because, so often, when us young things go off to Europe or on other worldly expeditions, it is with the purpose of "finding ourselves, " and that hasn't resonated with me, because I know where I am, and where I've come from. Creating ourselves even with the food we choose to put inside our bodies, the people we surround ourselves with, and all other choices we make and then being aware of this can be a powerful, scary, and wonderful experience.

I also included a leftover picture from Florence... Rachel and I got creative in the hotel room.

Waking up for the second day in the Creuse, having spent my first day and night in Gueret! I went with my program director, Evelyne, to the inspection academique, where she works. We had a few visits to apartments and moved me into the apartment above a primary school annex.

Unfortunately, this is only for the month, but it is lovely and huge! The kitchen over looks a large garden and my bedroom has a view of the IUFM, and old building that houses conferences and teachers in training, and a view of the valley. I think the bathroom was made for about 16 people, and you can fit as many into the tub. There are four bedrooms set up with little twin beds... oh the things I could do with this space if it were mine!

I've already pulled out my African fabric duvet cover that Grandma Ann made for me, and Rachel bought me a scarf in Italy which I'm using to cover my desk. All my pictures are up and smiling at me... I miss you, home! Alas, I will move somewhere else at the end of the month, I am hoping that this will be enough time to get a feel for the city and find a darling apartment on the top floor of some building on the hill.

After d'avoir m'installee in my aparment, I accompanied Evelyne throughout her work day, though most of her work was helping me move in to Gueret, introducing me to everyone in the office and the teachers I will be working with, taking me to lunch with her and her colleagues.

We went to a restaurant called Le Moderne, right on Place Bonnyaud in the center of town. Everybody seems to know or at least recognize Evelyne, so spending the day with her was a little like walking into Cheers with Kirsty Allen.

Another woman, who is on the verge of retirement (and also being my adopted grandmother while living here), Catherine, asked me what I needed to get settled and promptly took me to her apartment to collect pillows, little bonne maman jams (she was excited to tell me she stole these), coffee pot and sheets. She took me to the grocery store and helped me pick out some food, letting me know which brand she thought was the best. It reminded me of shopping with Deanna, which put a smile on my face.

I spent a few hours making my space a little more homey, and then went about the task of reading the materials I had gathered from the office of tourism. There is indeed a giant labyrinthe outside of the city, as well as a wolf park. There are about a fafillion equestrian centers in this region alone. Not far from my apartment there is the Espace Fayolle, which is Gueret's community center. It has a pool and painting classes, salsa lessons, pottery, WiFi :), music lessons for little kids... and a lot more. We are at the foothills of the Massif Central here in Gueret, not far from skiing and mountain hiking, and mountain biking. The autoroute that passes through here is one that connects Switzerland to the sea, and is aptly named something like "Suissemer..."

Another assistant, Kendra from Michigan, arrived from the USA yesterday and is staying with me until her apartment in La Souterraine is ready. She and I immediately started chatting it up, decided to go find a pay phone and an open restaurant at 8pm on Monday night. Anywhere else in the world, something might be open, but Sundays AND Mondays are the days that Gueret closes up shop during the week. No matter, we found wood oven pizza with all the veggies we could want and a bottle of rose, both which we brought back to the apartment and savoured...

Kendra brought a guitar, which she started learning how to play in January. We shared some pictures and stories, and then started singing and playing together. We sang, and got through American Pie in its entirety. Some Beatles songs, of course, and then a few songs by bands I've not heard of. It was a lovely first evening in Gueret.

Today, we're going to go buy cellphones, find an internet connection, and then go to the enormous "pond," Etang Courtille, and have a picnic with our leftover pizza. Wednesday will be another free day, and Thursday we start our classroom observations.

I'm just loving every minute of this experience, and in part because I have such wonderful support from home. Thank you for encouraging me to embark on such a great adventure.

2008-09-29T18:14:00.000+02:00

Wow! This trip just keeps getting better! I spent the morning feeling dirty from the night train, and trying to catch up on all that is happening in the news. I haven't had a chance to watch the debate, but as soon as I have some down time, its on.

I committed sacrilege this morning: I went to Starbucks and had English breakfast tea and sat on my computer. Notre Dame was out the window, but I just had to indulge myself a little in preparation of actually starting my year here. Because, lets face it, up until now it has been a crazy vacation with one of my best girls.

My friend Mady, the girl I went to Africa with, is studying in Paris this semester and arrived there yesterday after spending two weeks in Cannes. Poor her. So, I met Mady at La Fontaine St. Michel, a place I always met up with friends when I was studying at the Sorbonne. She brought her roommate, Lauren, a cute girl from San Diego, and we all three went to lunch together.

Mady is away from her language and food for the first time ever, and it is pooping her out! She is living with Lauren in an apartment in the 5th arrondissement. It is a homestay situation and her famille d'acceuil is an older Jewish widower who keeps kosher, which means the girls have to, too. Ouch.

The girls accompanied me to fetch my luggage and to Gare Austerlitz. It was so great to witness Lauren's first viewing of the Eiffel Tower. We were walking down the street from the Pantheon, the Jardin Luxembourg in front of us and just the tip of the tower in sight, she gasps and says "Oh! I think I just died a little!" What a magical moment for her, Mady was slightly amused :)

Mady and I spent the rest of the afternoon together at a cafe outside of the station and caught up, talked and made plans to visit each other this semester. I'm looking forward to becoming familiar with this region so that I can properly introduce it to everyone who is planning on visiting me.

I took a train from Paris to a city that starts with a V but I couldn't for the life of me remember what it is. Honest to God, I would look at the ticket, close it, and immediately forget the city name. I kept saying viognier, or vazeer, or va va voom. I waiting on the platform and V-ville for an hour and caught another train to La Souterraine.

Evelyne, the program director picked me up and whisked me off to her house, introduced me to her husband and had dinner ready for me. There's a woodburning stove in the house, the kitchen reminds me of Grandma Nita's farm kitchen, and I immediately felt at home.

Tomorrow, I will go meet my "boss," get settled in a living situation that is for teachers in training, meet another assistant teacher and get to know Gueret! Wednesday, Kendra from Michigan (the other assistant) and I will do some tourism in Gueret and get to know each other, and Thursday I get to go to school!

I was talking about the job and the students with Evelyne tonight at dinner, and it just seems like the best situation I could think of. I will be with 7,8, and 9 year olds and spend the first week or so observing different schools and classrooms to get a feel for how the education system works here. After that I will be teaching on my own, though the French teacher will always be in the room with me. All I can say is bladow!

Another amendment to previously assumed information about my year abroad: according to Evylene, the city of Gueret is 30,000 in size, so not as small as originally thought, but it is the smallest prefecture in France. She has two daughters, one who teaches in Gueret and one who lives in Clermont-Ferrand (the city where all the music is happening). Apparently I can just hitch a ride there with her daughter, how cool is that?

I am obviously being well taken care of, and it feels nice to be winding down my traveling and on my way to settling into this great thing. I can't wait to wake up tomorrow and see my new home!

Mama Pajama

2008-09-28T10:15:00.001+02:00

Oy! My week in Italy with Rachel has ended too quickly and with a few tears. Our time in Florence was full of adventure, including, but not limited to, theft, inebriation, "cultural experiences" (at least two a day!), shopping, dancing to Simon and Garfunkel in a Piazza at 9 in the morning AND at the train station, a carousel, Irish pub(s), funeral arrangements, and midnight mass. We made the glorious mistake of getting a hotel room all to ourselves and spent a good part of the day and night in it, drinking champagne, washing our undies in the sink, unpacking and repacking our stinky bags, and generally attempting to recover the previous three days.

We went to a restaurant on the other side of the River Arno, where Laura had spent some time when she was studying here in Florence. Ristorante Celestino was delicious and I think Britches and I barely made it home we were so full. I was surprised and intrigued to find horse meat and calf brains on the menu. Because Rachel and I were planning to share, and her face turned a pale shade of green at the thought of those particular dishes, I decided I'd have to come back for my gastronomical adventure.

We went to our "last supper" together where the waiter was a pro-McCain pro-Texas Italian man named Franco, and the restaurant was large enough to house the entire Italian mob. I had a dish with wild boar, and we finished our meal with a shot of Limoncello. We toasted our fathers and mothers, and in all forms.

We didn't go see the David, but we did take a lewd picture or two in front of the replica which stands in the original place of the real thing; outside in a piazza. We made it inside the beautiful Duomo, which is almost more impressive from the outside. Inside, there were votive trees where we each lit some candles: one for us, one for all the people who have helped us to be who we are, and one for our future. On our way out we heard drums and a canon going off and, as Rachel calls them, "mount-me's," or mounted officers. We stumbled smack dab in to the middle of a funky little parade. The men were wearing tights and cute shoes and funny hats, and they kept shooting a canon in the air.

Perhaps its because Rachel comes from the Dougherty funeral family, and my man is a mortician, but all day every day we would remember something that we wanted to have happen at our funerals and tell each other. It started with our processional song: The Body Electric from Fame for Rachel, and, of course, Me and Julio by Simon and Garfunkel for me. This conversation turned into what we would be buried with, what would be consumed at our services... I suppose when you're so blissfully happy with everything in your life, the idea of dying isn't so terrifying.

Traveling with a friend is a true testament to the strength of the relationship, as anyone knows you can not just travel with ANYONE. I have been blessed with a friend I can not only travel with, but have a damn good time with too!

2008-09-26T11:21:00.000+02:00

What a day! Rachel and I have been having a great time in Rome. We saw the Colosseum, Pantheon, and even got ourselves onto an open bus/boat tour of the city. Note to would-be travelers SKIP THE BOAT. The river is so much lower than the city that all we could see was the bottom of bridges through the cracked windows of the tour boat, and the smell of old Italian biddies was less than appetizing at 9 in the morning. We spent all of 15 minutes inside of the Colosseum before deciding that having a snack on the outside watching tourists was way more worth our time and money. We met a boy from Oregon in our hostel who turned out to be our entertainment for the day, and in the end our demise. The three of us started the day at an Irish pub... It had free WiFi, and we had to do some travel planning. Unfortunately we ended back at this Irish pub two more times, and it progressively got worse. At 3 in the morning it was like walking into any college campus bar, the theme to Ghost Busters blaring, and all the study abroad kids humping each other or trying not to vomit in the streets. Honestly, we just wanted an Irish coffee to warm us up on the way home...

We arrived in Florence yesterday and spent about an hour finding our charming hostel that we decided to vacate as soon as we woke up. We literally put our jackets on over our pajamas and left. The plan is to stay at a hotel tonight to avoid having hard feelings towards the beautiful Firenze. Tonight is our last night together, and tomorrow I head to Paris. Time flies with Little Britches. Arrivaderci à Roma!

2008-09-21T19:24:00.000+02:00

Today was definitely the day to go out exploring. Chatelet is one of the metro stops in Paris and often has live music playing in the tunnels. This video is a little taste of what I saw, though I promise, it sounded better in person:

After emerging from the metro, passing the Fontaine de St. Michel, I ran into a few dudes bustin' some moves

I went to Shakespeare & Co., an English language bookstore that is a fairy tale tree house fort. There was a table of Americans outside the store will all the information necessary for citizens abroad to register and vote. So cool!

After all of this, I went to the Centre Georges Pompidou which rises 7 stories high and has one gorgeous view of Paris. Montmartre is just out of the picture to the right, and the Eiffel Tower is likewise to the left.

Tomorrow, Roma!

2008-09-21T13:15:00.000+02:00

A continuation of pictures from my Louvre experience yesterday.

I left my hotel this morning and have since moved on to a hostel in the 20e arrondissement of Paris. I walked into the lobby this morning and realized that this is the same hostel that I (didn't) stay in on my first night in Paris, two years ago! The reason I say "didn't" is that I checked in after flying from London, went to the Eiffel Tower, and woke up on the grass there the next morning. Let's just say that my trip to Paris this time is starting off very differently than last time...

I'm bubbling with excitement to go see Rachel in Rome, which won't be until Tuesday morning, but my fury of travel begins tomorrow night when I'll share a sleeping cabin with 5 other people on the night train, and will be staying with Rachel in a hostel right behind the Vatican, also bunking with 4 other people.

Today, it's the Centre Pompidou, the famous Shakespeare & Co. Bookstore back in zee kar-tee-yay lah-ten, and perhaps a visit to La Cimitiere du Pere Lachaise where one can pay homage to Jim Morrison, Edith Piaf, Moliere, Proust, Chopin, and Oscar Wilde, to name a few.

I couldn't sleep last night, so I went to the reception of my hotel and spoke with the concierge for about an hour - in FRENCH! It really is amazing to me that I can hold a conversation, make jokes, and for the most part not butcher the beautiful language that I've been trying to learn all these years. The concierge, Cederic, just happens to be from Limoges, not far from where I'll be living for the year and he told me that I'll be bored to tears and that a weekend is more than enough time to spend there. He also told me that he thought that the population of Gueret was 50,000, and not 15,000 like I've found. I'm going to prove him wrong at least on the former because, hey, it's me, I can dig up some fun anywhere right? On verra...

2008-09-20T20:33:00.000+02:00

Another day in Paris and my boots have put on the miles! I started out by going to the Gare de Lyon to book my ticket to Rome. I won't be leaving here until Monday night but it will be a whirlwind adventure with Little Britches! Most of my day was spent inside the Louvre gawking at 14th century French and Italian sculptures, as well as the most touristy attractions: Venus de Milo, Winged Victory, and La Jaconde (Monna Lisa).

I feel a little dorky walking into a packed room with a tiny painting on the wall, having my picture taken in front of it, and leaving. What about this painting is so great? I have a theory that it may just be one of those psychological experiments where you stand outside, staring up into the sky until a crowd of people has gathered around you, looking up and trying to figure out what it is that has your attention.

Oh the tourists! Me being one of them, we follow each other around like ants through the gargantuan maze that the Louvre is, snapping pictures of each other in front of priceless pieces of art, taking home digital proof that we were in this amazing place in front of amazing masterpieces in an amazing city, never spending the time to experience but only to capture.

I've definitely enjoyed myself so much more in a deserted wing of the Chicago Institute of Arts or the Minneapolis Institute of Arts, or even the Met in NYC. No pressure to see what needs to be seen, not feeling like I'm pressed up against thousands of frantic people trying to get as close as possible to whatever it is they've come to see.

Don't get me wrong, this museum is amazing. Just the building itself it a piece of art, not to mention the fairly recent addition of the glass pyramids. After battling claustrophobia and scurrying through the puzzle to find a "sortie," I took my lunch sitting up against one of the many fountains that surrounds the pyramid, in the center of the courtyard.

I then made my way through the Jardin de Tuileries to a bistro that serves hot chocolate that one woman said she'd sell her kidney for, and Laura has described as "better than sex." We'll see about that, ladies.

Ok, so there was a line out the door and down the Rue de Rivoli at Angelina, but I didn't feel like waiting and was beginning to think it was not worth my time for hot chocolate. I skipped around the side and asked a woman if I could have it to go, a emporter. Indeed, I could and it was cheaper than sitting in the restaurant. Voila!

I took my chocolat chaud, and made my way into the Jardin de Tuileries where I enjoyed traditional African hot chocolate and a good book, and lots of people watching. I wouldn't sell my kidney for it but it would definitely satisfy me as a replacement for sex...

2008-09-19T19:49:00.000+02:00

One more thing:

I read next week's New Yorker on the plane and I wanted to share what I thought was an absolutely hilarious and spot on article about our Republican VP hopeful.

2008-09-19T18:57:00.000+02:00

After 24 hours of travel, no sleep, and the always delightful airplane food, I've arrived in Paris and am so relieved to be enjoying myself! My going away party at Maxwell's was great, all the right people were there and Tia and I christened the new bar with some fresh dance moves...

Boarding my plane from Minneapolis to Chicago was pretty difficult, I am sad to say goodbye to such a wonderful place and such fantastic people for almost a year. I found myself hoping that my passport was expired or that the plane needed to be fixed, trying to find any way to squeeze a few more moments in at home.

The flight to Copenhagen was even more heart wrenching, but upon arrival to Paris I felt so at home! I knew exactly where to go and French just fell out of my mouth. Stepping onto the train, I remember how much I love the smell of stations: dirt, gasoline and a little bit of b.o., the sweet smell of public transportation!

I woke up this afternoon rested and ready for some Parisian food. I was so hungry I was shaking. I walked through the Latin Quarter, past Notre Dame and found myself an empty patio at a bistro overlooking the Seine. After 5 minutes the place had filled up and I was elbow to elbow with people taking their afternoon espresso/cigarette breaks.

I notice that the French have a little secret about smoking and eating in such close proximity to each other: they neither rush nor do they apologize for their presence. Tiny beautiful women eating enormous plates of food, endless glasses of wine, and cigarettes for days. Never is there a race to finish the beautiful meal in front of them, and I rarely caught a draft of cigarette smoke. Nice.

Another observation, if I may be frank: Last time I checked the French were well known for their intimate apparel. Never have I seen so many panty lines as I have today! I wouldn't have noticed if it weren't so prevalent...

Cool, swanky looking European men in suits with sweaters tied around their shoulders and no helmets biking around in Paris traffic - either they don't sweat, don't care about sweating, or they just don't go as fast. I think it is probably a combination of the last two.

I'm going to my "favorite bar" in Paris tonight to listen to some music and catch some night life in the Latin Quarter. Sunday, I'm taking a night train to Rome to meet up with Little Britches for the week, and then its off to work already! This year will be filled with so many wonderful things, and then it will be over in the blink of an eye. C'est la vie!