One Month Later

It has been exactly one month since I left Minneapolis for Paris.

I can HARDLY believe it. It was just five weeks ago that I was hot as the dickens down in Mississippi. It seems like that was so far away.

Everyday here I feel like I have new break throughs. I have the odd position of being a complete outsider in this city that i've become very familiar with. This is all due to the fact that I'm very isolated by the language. I have become fluent in listening. The true test of this is when I watched a french standup comedian Franck Dubosc and laughed...at all the right times. The problem is the speaking. I can put together sentences but rarely is it grammatically correct. This is not to say that I don't try. I really do. and usually succeed. every conversation i have in french is a complete success.

Anyway, my point is, I'm this silent observer of all the goes on around me and it is isolating in a lot of ways BUT each day i find myself breaking through this isolation. Either in my french class, or when i make a friend at the park, or when i have a conversation with a waiter in french. I do still think there is a small part of myself holding back because I know that I'm going home in just two months.

That being said, I have felt homesick at times. and mostly at times when things are strange to me. (and not "wacky" strange but different from what i know) for instance, when I'm lost in Paris, I'll think of 32nd and Nicollet; It's not an intersection i "frequent" but it is the last intersection I turn off of after leaving 35W on my way home. 32nd and Nicollet means that I'm minutes from home. I've also thought about my grandma's house a lot. Again, we don't go there often, maybe two or three times a month but it is such a place of comfort for me. I know where everything is. Usually the house is full of people I know and love. that is really what I miss.

The good news is, France is feeling more and more like a home to me. I take the RER and Metro with ease. I know where things are in relation to one another. and I'm really enjoying living here. At least once a day i have a "I'm living in France" moment where I just beam for a few seconds as i think about what my life is like right now.

So. That's that.

More "WHAT THE HELL FRANCE??"

I've noticed some more...

-Cars. and driving in general. Parisians don't really drive a lot. but when they do they drive quickly and politely. The small road I live on always has cars parked on it and it really is a small road. But here's the deal, the driving part and the parking part of the road switch off. for example. right outside my window there is the parking side closest and the driving side farther away BUT, just two houses down the parking is on the OTHER side of the road. I hope this makes sense. Because of this, the drivers have to be very polite about driving, if they see a person coming at them, the move over and WAIT for the other person to pass them. Another consequence of this awesome method is that cars are parked which ever direction they're driving, BUT ON THE SAME SIDE.
so at any given time, a car may my be parked bumper to bumper, facing the front of another car. I hope this makes sense. It is very odd indeed.



-Yogurt. every night after dinner they eat cheese and then yogurt. sometimes just one, and sometimes both. personally, never been a big fan of yogurt. but seriously, EVERY night after dinner. it's crazy. I love the cheese though. that stuff is GOOD.

-A lot of women carry two bags circa Mary-Louise Parker, Weeds seasons 1-3. but probably not for the same reason as Parker. Really though, usually a nice, maybe leather or fake leather purse and then another purse. and the kicker is, usually both of them are kind of small. Today I even saw one woman carrying THREE bags. one purse, one backpack and another purse. WHY NOT ONE BIG PURSE FRENCH PEOPLE???
--This is a subtopic of purses. MAN PURSES. all over the place.

-Some french sayings i love a lot:
-- "ça veut dire" translated directly it means "It wants to say" but you just use it to ask what something means.
-- "Beacoup du monde" translated it means "a lot of the world" but you use it to say that a lot of people were there.
-- "elle est neuve" translation: "she is new" but you use it to say that something you purchased is new. (or you would say "il" if it was a masculine something.
-- "un smoking" translation: tuxedo. yeah. keep it classy France.

-There are about 8 different words for jackets. and each word means a specific KIND of jacket. It is so confusing.

Well that's it for now. I THANK YOU.

Hello my people,

It’s me, back for more.

I’ve been compiling a list that I call “WHAT THE HELL FRANCE?”. I’m not angry at France, don’t worry, it’s just a list of things that I’ve observed that are different from the good ol’ USofA.

There is no particular order and I don’t want anyone to THINK there is any particular order, so I will use bullet points.

-Adults ride scooters. Not moped scooters, straight up Razor scooters with over-the-shoulder straps and everything. I’ve mostly seen this phenomenon at or around metro stations and you know what, I wish I had the chutzpah to get myself a scooter but I just don’t have that kind of self-confidence.

-Parisians don’t smile. When you’re walking down the street and you pass someone…nothing. I find that people will make eye contact, but that’s it. My natural instinct when someone makes eye contact with me is to smile nicely and keep walking. Usually this elicits a smile from my fellow pedestrian, but so far, nada. I will keep trying though…

-Everybody reads! On the train, the train station, cafés, everywhere. I love it. It is very refreshing to know that not everyone is as digitally attached as most Americans are. Also, it makes for a very quiet train ride.


There are more that I can’t remember right now. I’ll add them later. Promise.

faux pas

Today we went to the creperie in Sceaux. From the outside it is just a window and door with a simple blue sign with “CREPERIE” above the window. It is only open from 11-2 and 7-9 everyday. How French.

It is oh-so-cute. Coline didn’t have a lot of school today because there is a strike for the public workers who want the retirement age to be changed. Or maybe they want it to stay the same. I’m not sure… Anyway, because Coline goes to a public school, some of her teachers decided to strike so we went out for lunch!

The past two days I have tried to go to the Creperie but because of their unusual hours I haven’t gone at the right time. We sit down at the table and the waitress comes over with an English menu for me and French menus for everyone else. She asked me what would like to drink. It was still morning, I hadn’t been awake for a very long time, so naturally a coffee would be nice. NOT SO. Coline burst out laughing when I ordered a coffee and I asked why, she said that in France we have coffee AFTER THE MEAL. Sacré bleu. Fortunately everyone saw it as a charming mistake not an idiot-American faux pas. But I will certainly not make THAT mistake again.

Another Fun Fact about eating crepes the "proper" way, you order two or three crepes a meal. Either two savory and one sweet, or if you are feeling good, one savory and two sweet. Of course you can just have two if you wish, which is what I did. First I had a chevre crepe which was divine and then I finished with a nutella crepe. I have never felt happier.

The man who owns the creperie was the most gracious host, allowing me to speak French with him and always responding in slow French or English. Ca c’est trés gentil. Non?

Day One.

I arrived early sunday morning. So early. I hardly slept on the plane so I was awake for nearly 24 hours. And then I was up all day. YAY JETLAG.

Jean-Yves picked me up at the airport and drove me straight home. The early morning light and mist made everything soft. Sceaux, the village where I am staying, is very close to Versaille and the man who designed the gardens of Versaille also designed a garden right here in Sceaux. (or something like that). More about the garden in a minute. The Renault’s house is just gorgeous. It is a big old house with a blue fence and a lovely backyard. The downstairs is still being renovated.

They are all very proficient in English which, honestly is very helpful, mostly because of the jetlag. I did get to hear them speak French and I spoke a little bit of French with them. They also speak English with eachother sometimes which is really very helpful. I think they will slowly move to more French in general so that I can learn more, but I will keep speaking English with the kids. Some of their friends came over and they were speaking very fast French so that was fun and also scary…

I keep singing songs in my head that are English songs but I automatically translate them to French. My favorite so far was “C’est ma vie, c’est maitenent ou jamais” ( That’s “It’s my life” by Jon Bon Jovi. Also, “pomme derriere jeans et bottes avec la POILS, AVEC LA POILS” (Apple bottom jeans and boots with the fur) WHY

a few fun facts: “wifi” is prounounced “weefee”

Coline was making fun of people with bad French accents when they speak English.

Le phrase plus importante pour moi, ça c’est “excuse-moi de vous déranger madame…” it means “I’m sorry to disturb you madame…”

some things i'm not sure about...

So I leave in 3 days. I'm sorry about the delayed posting my many followers.

I've been quite busy over the last few months. But I'm here now and that's what counts.

I just got back from two weeks camping and hanging out in Ocean Springs, Mississippi with 50 junior high kids. it was quite something I must say. The clouds there are gorgeous in the morning and at night. I wish I brought my camera.

During this trip I had a lot of time to think about France and all the will happen there and it occurred to me that there are several things I'm not sure what will happen. I made a list. I call it the "WHAT? WHAT? WHAT WILL I DO??" list

The list so far:

-Laundry? they must wash their clothes in france. but where will i wash MY clothes.

-Saying years in French? its really hard! In English we just say "nineteen blah blah blah" but they make it really confusing by saying the thousand part...

-Saying numbers above 69? "they" (I mean francophones) start doing math when they count above 69. By this I mean, instead of saying "seventy" they say "sixty and ten" and "eighty" becomes "four twenties" and to make it even MORE confusing, "ninety" is "four twenties ten" WHAT??? I can do it in English but then in FRENCH???

-What if Luna dies? that would be so sad.

-SCOTCH TAPE? love scotch tape. do french people use scotch tape??

I'll add to the list if i think of things.

Pop.

Last night I came home from Colorado after spending the weekend there with my extended family; cousins, aunts, uncles, everyone. As the second oldest grandchild, second only to my older brother, I'm caught in the middle years between 'kid' and 'adult'. Technically I'm still a kid, so to my uncles and aunts I'm not quite an adult. But to my much younger cousins, I'm clearly not one of them. They adore me, let's be honest, but we're worlds apart; I don't know all the words to Justin Beiber's latest song, or know all the Stars du Jour on the Disney Channel. I still enjoy getting to know them and hear about their lives, but clearly they enjoy each others company much more than mine.

You (all my fabulous readers(keela)) are probably wondering what all that has to do with "paris when it sizzles" AND I'M GETTING THERE. this post needs a lot of prefacing; but that is important in a first post.

The story has been diluted over the years but here it is. When my dad and his four brothers and one sister first moved to Minnesota they had family portraits taken with all the children. My grandpa (we call him Pop) had a picture of himself taken and gave it to my grandma for christmas as a joke. When my aunt, Mary, the eldest of the six, went to college seven or eight years later, the picture showed up in her dorm room. The photo was then gifted and re-gifted to all the kids in the family as they went to college, or studied abroad or went on their honeymoons.

Over the years the picture would disappear in basements or attics only to reappear as someones gift years later. Until recently, the portrait was at my grandma's house waiting to be discovered. Last christmas my aunt Rana and uncle Matt went to Turkey to spend time with Rana's father and my grandma (that's Matt's mother) sent their presents ahead with of course, the infamous picture of Pop.

At our final dinner with the entire family in Colorado, My uncle Matt, who is also my godfather, handed me a huge box and inside of course, was the worn out, 11X13 inch picture complete with holes from it's previous owners. Receiving the picture makes me feel more like an adult than graduating from high school or turning 18 ever could.

Of course the picture will come with me to France. And who knows who will receive it next.