Adventures in the Kingdom

Bye for now

2011-07-31T07:18:00.002+02:00

Hey all... I've come to a decision. When I first started blogging it was to document and keep friends up to date on all my crazy foreign adventures. And, well, in a sick twisted way I kinda liked typing my awkward stories to the world. But these days a ridiculously busy schedule has taken what little sanity I started out with (many would say there wasn't much yo begin with) and all I've been left with is a source of stress and feeling like a blog failure...(sniff, sniff, where is Oprah when you need her?) So I'm taking a break. A loong break. Until whenever this blogging thing becomes fun again. Feel free to defriend me on facebook. Or throw something. But I'll be back someday. (is it me or does that sound like a cheesy line from a thriller?) As the frenchies say: "A la prochaine!"

Welcome to Chile

2011-05-08T12:25:00.017+02:00

Alright, a bunch of you are mad at me because I've been so delinquent on my entries again. Let's just say that I just about fell off the blogwagon (disregard corny pun please) but my amazing husband has re-inspired me to get back in there and start typing again. So here goes nothing...

Chile: If you can remember that far back (if not just scroll down to my last entry) the last time I blogged was about finding a bridesmaid dress in Paris for my sister's upcoming wedding in Chile. It took awhile but at last it was time to hop on a plane and spend the next 14 hours straight staring ahead at my mini tv screen, dreaming of Chilean avocados and trying to look unruffled every time we hit turbulence above that gianormous Atlantic Ocean (I normally don't scare so easily on planes but this one was an AirFrance with almost the same exact flight trajectory as the one that crashed in the ocean a year or two ago).

Just as I was beginning to worry that my butt was going to be permanently deformed, we touched down and the airport festivities began. Going through customs, security, picking up baggage, and buying a nice little entry visa made for quite a few lines. While Matt fretted (his French side coming out for that one--the dislike of long lines and whatnot) I attempted to perfect my already near perfect Spanish. "Hablo espaniol tan mal?" means "Is my Spanish that bad?" (The 'making friends' part of a travel book is always the most interesting) Of course I had to run it by Matt just to double check that my pronunciation was passable which only served to fluster the guy even more around so many native speakers. But at last we were through customs, bilingual and with stamped passports in hand.

As we approached the security check, I could see my sister looking down on us from the glass skyway. This led then to all kinds of lipreading, funny faces, and other shinanagans that seemed to get the people next to her (esp. the male ones) all worked up so she had to continually move around as to not receive too many odd looks.

I was pretty confident going through security...after all I had done this how many times before? Alas, however, confidence isn't everything because as soon as my purse came through that machine, the nice looking Chilean woman was magically pulling an apple out of there and yelling at a customs agent what I can only imagine was something like fruit delinquent in Spanish. To this day I think it must have been a conspiracy...after all I swear I had eaten that apple! The agent motioned for me to follow her so I left Matt with the bags and grumpily walked towards what I thought was going to be the agricultural line.

I'm not sure the concept of an agricultural line has occurred to the Chileans because instead I ended up sitting in a row of chairs (the word timeout comes the mind...) in an open office while the agent lady shuffled through a pile full of papers with the word 'citation' stamped at the top. Here's about how our conversation started off:

Agent lady: spanish gibberish

Me: 'hablas ingles?'

Agent lady: no

Me: 'hablas frances?"

Agent lady: no

Me: silence

We did attempt to plow through it anyway, I was hoping that with my knowledge of French I could maybe understand a few questions but apparently that only served to jumble us up even more. Poor Matt had been left hanging out to dry during this time while standing in the middle of the security section still waiting for me to return. Realizing this might not be the immediate case, he started looking for me. Finding me in my timeout corner, he proceeded to linguistically save the day. (Apparently I had told them that the apple was from the states and all kinds of other untrue things)

Once everything got all sorted out, agent lady disappeared, leaving us both in timeout corner wondering if we might be fast enough to make a break for it (after all my sister had been waiting this whole time for us and had a car parked out front...). Chickening out, we instead got ushered into a closed office nearby. Now it was time to take our statement.

Conversation (in Spanish):

Agent man: Why did your wife have an apple in her purse?

Matt: She forgot to eat it.

Agent man: Why did she forget to eat it?

Matt: Excuse me?

Agent man: Why did she forget?

Matt: uhh....it was a long flight? She was tired? It was supposed to be part of her dinner but she didn't remember it was there?

Agent man: [talking to himself as he types into keyboard] ...it was a long flight; she was very tired; she forgot to eat it...

To which he then proceeded to show us in the "statement" exactly everything that Matt had just said. Next came the "Authorization of Destruction" documents that I had to sign. Hoping it was the apple and not us that I was authorizing to destroy, I plunged on ahead through the 5 copies that he gave me. At last came the part we had been dreading: the fine.

Agent man: Okay, this is your first time in Chile?

Us: si.

Agent man: Normally there is a $200 fine for bringing a prohibited fruit into Chile. However, since it is your first time, we will let you go with a warning. But don't do it again because we have you passport info.

Us: Thank you! Gracias!

Agent man: So, where are you visiting while in Chile? Are you going to the beach? I know some great places to visit!

Us: Umm....si. [thinking to selves: what the heck??]

Agent man: you should really visit Vina del Mar. Have a great time!

Us: Gracias?

Thus began our Chilean adventure. Here's a few of the highlights:

Seeing the sites with my sis and the family...

Yes, that is a picture of my butt... Long story short me and Matt decided to have a romantic moment next to a fountain. Unbeknown to me, however, I had sat down near the edge on a dry nozzle--was I in for a shock when suddenly it turned on! My dad, being the kind soul that he is, just had to document the experience...

Saw the world's biggest potato hoarder...

Some things just don't really have words to describe...

Tried these amazing and disgusting drinks with peach juice on top and wheat germ on bottom.

Loved the bathroom door markers...no need to know 'Mens room' in Spanish with this handsome fella. (yes, there is a female version! lol)

Learned how to make homemade pasta with the girls...

Here's Matt at the oceanside cliffs reading what at first glance looked like a Juan + Conchita = Amor Forever but turns out it was a memorial for a guy who had committed suicide by jumping off these rocks! (Maybe it was cuz Conchita dumped him)

Random staircase apartments all over on the Chilean coast...

On a boat ride touring Vina del Mar's harbor... Safety first!

Making friends... here's Salazar the Sea Lion.

Eating tons of ice cream since it was the end of summer there :)

Nat teaching us how to bound with the local wildlife...

And the best for last, my personal fav. I'll let you do your homework by finding a Frenchman to ask the meaning 'con' and then you'll get why this restaurant is pretty funny and why no Frenchy would want to eat any of this food.

There you have it! Wedding update next time!

I've found it..

2011-02-16T19:42:00.006+01:00

If you're expecting me to say something profound after that title post then you probably don't know me very well by now...unless you're a girl and then you know that finding a bridesmaid dress can actually be a profound experience. Specifically when living in France.

I say that because while Paris happens to be the fashion capital of the world, there is apparently a color ban on clothing in the city of love (this is where I say something corny like that's because love is blind... [insert canned laughter]). Parisians have an almost obsessive relationship with the color black. What's worse is that you live here long enough and you start to become one of them. What color am I wearing right now? And seriously the minute you mix more than one color into your wardrobe, warning bells start going off and heaven forbid you look too flashy. I mean, someone just might notice you out of that sea of brown and black.

All this to say that really when my sis asked me to get a blue dress for her upcoming nuptials what I really should have done was start hunting then and there. Because, you see, Americans like color. Ask any European, it's the easiest way to spot them out of the crowd (okay, that and speaking loud English that is). But alas, I didn't actually end up looking for my dress in the states...

Stupidly, I came back to Europe thinking that four months was plenty of time to find a blue evening dress in Paris. After all, they have dresses and evenings over here right? And sometimes they combine the two? The first couple months of casual looking there wasn't much panicking (okay, lets face it, it was more like the first 3 and then some...). When the country-wide sales hit, I thought it would provide the perfect opportunity to find it.

No such luck. My next move was to look online. The World Wide Web has everything right? Wrong-o. That's when I started suspecting internet conspiracy. Having not the least idea of where else to look I finally turned to my boss, who actually happened to be dress shopping for a wedding herself. That's when I learned that it helps when you ask frenchies. Apparently the color ban rebels were all hanging out on this exclusively evening dress street.

So I decided to follow her advice and check out the street for myself. My first stop was a place called Sunshine and lit up with multiple neon lights. Forgetting the neon lights, I was on cloud nine just to discover a whole rainbow of color. After some very interesting dresses, one ripped shoulder strap, and a couple of sequin strips no longer around, I attempted not to let discouragement get to me.

Sunshine's neighbor turned out to be another evening dress shop, this one a little more promising that the last. As I was scouring over the tea length options the owner approached me. Seeing the look on my face he actually apologized for offering to help and said he'd let me look in peace! (now if only that would happen all the time, I'd be perfectly content!) Of course, Sparky just couldn't hold back for long because soon he was pointing out where all the tea length dresses were located, yada yada yada... I considered flashing him my ring and mentioning how happily married I am but decided that talking back to him would just encourage the guy.

The first of many surprises was that I discovered my dressing room curtain didn't fully shut and was about the size of a straight-jacket. Okay, so maybe I'm exaggerating a little here...not much though because a pail of dirty water was directly behind me making it difficult to move, let alone change one's clothes. Not to mention what would happen if one of those frilly unmentionables dropped in the bucket? But the worst thing was the lack of a mirror in the dressing "room". Peaking my head out of the straight-jacket I looked for clear opportunity to make a dash for the mirror while my new boyfriend was occupied. This wasn't the easiest feat in the world because there was a whole posse of teenage girls checking out their ridiculously skinny butts in the mirror. Finally a moment came where both parties were occupied and I did a quick run and look over out at the mirror.

To my great delight I liked the dress and it was a mere 40 bucks...and since there was no way I was going through that ordeal again with dress number two I quickly redressed (steering clear of the pail of course!), paid for that baby, and hopped on my bike to go back home.

So now Talia is reaadaay for this happenin' wedding... And not a moment too soon because the wedding is less than three weeks away. Did I mention that it'll be in Chile? Which means more fun adventures and cultural misunderstandings to write about soon! Let the Spanglish fun begin...

an addition

2011-01-19T19:43:00.001+01:00

I forgot to add that Matt is also terrified to use his new clock for fear of our neighbors calling the cops...

Bring on 2011

2011-01-19T19:30:00.003+01:00

Happy 2011! Well there are ch-ch-chaaanges happening around the Sanders household... Now this is the part where most people would normally talk about their New Year's resolutions, yada yada but the truth is when I say changes what I really mean is that Matt has decided to start the new year off with a bang, check out his new alarm clock...

ps. I do want to try and blog more but I won't call that a resolution so that maybe I"ll actually accomplish it!

Season's greetings from Paris

2011-01-05T19:41:00.019+01:00

wish you

a Merry Christmas

We wish you

Merry

Christmas

and a happy

New

Year.

Good tidings

will

bring

to you and your kin.

Good tidings for

Christmas

and a Happy New Year!!

Welcome home

2010-11-13T16:36:00.009+01:00

Lesson of the week: how to unfreeze your French freezer.
Every time we go away on vacation I know there's always someone who will be missing me and most likely waiting with open arms for my return. Some people are lucky enough to have loved ones who fall into that category...for the rest us, there's our freezer. Well only if it's blessed enough to be French, that is. My previous landlord tried to explain to me that it has something to do with the way they're made--the air doesn't circulate like with an American fridge/freezer but unfortunately at the time my French wasn't very good and all that I fully understood from that conversation was that French freezers suck. Fortunately for me I have developed a sure and steady method for vanquishing the icicle blues...

note: yes, I am very aware that I could simply turn off the power and allow my ice to depart the natural way; however, due to not having enough towels (trust me on this one!) and nowhere to put any of my food during the defrosting process, nor space for a cooler, I have adapted a slightly err different method.

Supplies needed: towels (strongly emphasizing lots), large ice melting place--preferably the sink, hammer, strong hitting arm.

Here she be in all her glory, waiting for a little TLC:
(ok truthfully I had already started then realized I should share this enlightening experience)

Supplies needed: towels (strongly emphasizing lots), large ice melting place--preferably the sink, hammer, strong hitting arm.

Step one: remove cereal basket from shelves so able to fully open freezer door.

Step two: swing hammer like you mean it.

Step three: pause to sweep up fallen ice. Whatever you do, do not leave this for the end...

Step four: dump ice into designated wet zone.

Step five: pause to enjoy progress made.

Step six: repeat steps two through five.

Step seven: repeat steps two through five.

Step eight: repeat steps two through five.

Step nine: repeat steps two through five.

Step ten: do the happy dance because you've now finished.

Make snow cones with leftover ice.

Bake a pie for your husband so he'll put up with your grumbling for the rest of the night.

Summer USA Trip: part 3

2010-10-07T21:00:00.029+02:00

Hmm, well my timing's a little off I guess but at least I finish what I start, right? So in honor of wrapping up the last entry of our summer trip, here are a few of the highlights...

Portland, my love, how I miss thee...

That heart says it all...
Here's us rocking it up in one of my favorite cities with good friends...

Pictured here while sippin' our lattes and playin' cards...

Matt hittin' the town on his too cool for school banana bike....here's a shout out to old school!

Meanwhile the girls rolled tandem style...ignore the appearance of gracefulness in this photo, it's been photo edited...

Next adventure, camping with the fam:

here's the crew....

the casa (almost)

the cool added touch...

...and the camp!

Why we even go camping in the first place

Bonding with mother nature over cards...my sister doesn't realize that I'm about to kick her butt and win though...

Kicking off our trip to the coast with a little impromptu YMCA. Nat never could get those letters right...

Auditioning for Baywatch

Not kidding you: attempting to dig for sand beetles and finding blood worms instead. Boys will be boys...

Dad bonding with the dead wildlife

Swaying with lit candles and singing our little hearts out to the Newsboys, Jaci Velasquez, and Superchick live in concert...

Watching crazy good lil' Christian boys do very crazy stunts on things with wheels...

Joining a 5k doggiy run race due to my deep love for the canine species...

And finishing strong with my buddy Charis! Next time around a 10k!

Enjoy:

And last but not least, my favorite summer moment: Hawaiian hula dancing at the Saturday market... gotta love random :)

Family, fun, and food

2010-09-19T20:22:00.029+02:00

It wasn't long before we were leaving sunny Florida behind and had hit the road again, this time with North Carolina in mind as our end goal. Not ones to pass up a good road trip, we thought a little side trip to Savannah, Georgia was in order. 2 hours, 9 cop car sitings, and 15 bridges passed later, we were finally at our Savannah hotel!
Savannah was gorgeous--we couldn't wait to go downtown! Wanting to stretch my legs a little I confidently suggested to Matt that we should walk there.
Of course when I said that though I was thinking more like 20 or 30 minutes--after all, it looked pretty close on the map and I was sure I had read somewhere on the hotel's website that we were only a mere 15 minutes from historic downtown.
The problem started when we realized that it had already taken all of our 30 minutes getting from one street to the other on the map. Hmm...alas, if we had only realized the stupidity of my suggestion then...but oh no, we trudged on, convinced that downtown was only a mere 15 minutes away.

After hour number one we had come to two conclusions: 1) Savannah is beautiful. 2) Downtown was not 20 minutes away.
We had two options at this point: give up and turn around or trudge on. That's when my plan subtly changed: the new goal became let's get to downtown as soon as possible and then catch a taxi on the way back so we could pick up our rental car. (After all what downtown doesn't have taxis at 7:00 in the evening?) Confidently we began asking local-looking people whether there were any buses nearby or if there was a specific spot to catch a taxi downtown. Unfortunately, their only intelligent response was to stare at us blank-faced and mumble something about that kinda thing not being around here.

By 7:30 we finally stumbled onto the edge of the map square marked "Historic Downtown". Undaunted, we asked again about the taxis/buses. But alas this time we were to be quickly deflated because the man's response was something like "Oh, that bus right there (passing us on the side of the street) was the last bus for the night and you won't find any taxis around here at this time of night." For crying out loud people it was only 7:30pm! And here I had thought to escape the Paris metro for the summer, ah the irony of it all...
In order to avoid meltdown, Matt and I decided to game plan our next move over dinner at a small cafe that we had stumbled onto. Although outrageously expensive (we were only able to afford a bowl of soup and drinks) it thankfully happened to be outrageously delicious which perked our Savannah spirits up a bit. We decided that due to safety reasons and energy levels our only hope was to walk as fast as possible back to the hotel, grab the rental, and hope to see a little of historic Savannah before the sun went down. Thus the speed-walking Sanders took off in hopes of making it to the hotel in only one hour as opposed to the 2 1/2 it had taken us to get there thus far.

And for about 20 min we really thought we might be able to pull it off. But something magic happened: just as our taut elbows were slowly drooping and my prayers were increasing, Matt happened to spot a taxi flying by. Like stranded islanders we both began jumping and waving like crazy in a last attempt to woo the car back to us. And unlike other moments in our life, this was one of those times where our plan actually worked, desperation payed off and we were soon chatting thankfully with our very friendly Savannah taxi driver (of course, with the accent and all we had a pretty hard time understanding him but hey, we weren't about to complain...)

Now with rental car a safe 100 yards away we were able to enjoy that famous downtown we had dreamed so much of during our previous trek...

My fav of course was the candy store...check out those caramel apples above...

Unfortunately the picture of these yummy things was the only thing I could afford in the shop...

We needed a picture to document the fact that we had actually made it to the city center.

I almost joined these young'uns for a dash in the water but I knew Matt was looking and would reel me back to my seat...

We also made friends during our short jaunt in the city... This is an Indian fellow I met in one of the shops. What do you think of my facial expression imitating?

It wasn't long before we were "on the rooooaad again..." Feeling the need to taste test for ourselves some real Southern cookin' we made a pit stop at the Waffle House for some of the goods.

And before long (ok, actually it felt like forever in the car, but you know) we were in North Carolina, home to the second half of the family! I knew that when Matt's aunt Kathy came out hugging, "Hey sugaring" and offering sweet tea, we were in for a real treat in Southern hospitality.

Here we are really excited to see the corn fields pictured below...

Welcome to LaGrange, North Carolina.

After hardly knowing these people (I had met some briefly at Matt's and my wedding) it didn't take long to feel part of the family. I had a special admirer with Matt's cousin's oldest little girl. "A" (name erased because she hopes to someday be part of the CIA) was at my side within five minutes "Hey-ing" me (that's the done thing there instead of 'hi') and was asking me to check out her cartwheeling action. After bonding over the cartwheeling (lets just say I was very much in awe because it's a skill I've never quite mastered), we moved on to more girl talk things...such as clothes, shoes, hairstyles and the like. (apparently she's quite fond of skirts and when I walked through the door wearing one it was an instant friendship) She's got pretty good taste for a four year old. Not one to want to play favorites though here I am bonding with younger sister "P" (I could tell you her name but then she'd have to kill you).

Here we are hanging out on the front steps of the house. If I look tired it's because I am. We played Duck, Duck, Goose with A and P; as it turns out A has got a good set of legs on her and in no time had me pooped on the porch.
That's when it became Matt's turn for a little action. I'm not sure exactly what part of Duck, Duck, Goose is pictured here (maybe it's the extreme, catch you version) but they appear to be having fun...

Then the Kodak moment once everyone is officially tuckered out...

And lastly a group shot: there's the whole gang except Matt's cousin's husband and me, of course, who's taking the shot...

I'm back! New York and Florida

2010-08-13T12:47:00.011+02:00

The ironic thing about labeling a post 'I'm back!' is that most of you didn't know that I was gone in the first place. For you it was just this long period of blog nothingness and now here I am again. The responsible thing would have to been to inform you of the fact that I'd be taking a month long road trip/vacation in the States, sans blogging, but then that wouldn't be consistent with my reputation. So all I can say is, Here I am again! Admit it, you missed me...
Apologies aside, we just got back from an awesome cross country trip in the States. Let's start with New York and Florida, the first two stops on the agenda...

Ok so if I'm going to be really honest the New York stop was a grand total of 5 hours. I'm sure I'm cheating by calling a layover city our first stop...but hey, how often do you have to change airports and have hours to kill at one of those anyway? And I'm proud to say that all those dead hours were actually spent outside of the airport terminal as well. In fact, much to Matt's delight, it turns out that LaGuardia Airport is actually a next-door neighbor to Flushing Meadows National Tennis Center. Here it is in all its glory:

I appreciated it all the more once Matt actually explained to me that it's kind of important in the world of tennis. Of course, my favorite part was the park it was actually located in. I saw a giant long bench that had my name written all over it and pretty soon Matt and I were alternating between jet-lagged snoozes on the bench. After a refreshing siesta we decided to explore the neighborhood a bit. I'm not quite sure how (although I'm thinking severe thirst and jet-lag had something to do with it), but somehow we ended up in a Mexican bakery, sharing a bottle of coke (aka they didn't take cards and we were too poor to buy two cokes), watching the World Cup in Spanish, and the only two people in the bakery who spoke English. Now before you get all worked up because you think I'm stereotyping Mexicans and their English-speaking abilities, you have to know that no one in the whole place actually understood us when we ordered that coke. If I've ever seen blank stares, that was it. Of course, that's why I take my linguistic dictionary, aka Matt, around everywhere I go. I'm convinced that the only language he doesn't know how to speak is Mandarin Chinese...and even there I wouldn't be surprised if he's not holding something back...

Moving on to Florida... The land of beaches, bikinis, and Flipper the Dolphin right? Well actually we weren't exactly in Miami...in fact it was more like Jacksonville. Which I'll have you know is actually the largest geographical city in the US of A folks. Just thought you should know. It also is home of the bayou. Which, if I'm going to be honest thrilled me to no end and made me imagine myself constantly on the set of Disney movie The Rescuers... This little jewel of a spot was right in Matt's uncle and aunt's neighborhood...

I love looking at pictures after the fact... Unbeknown to Matt, he's about to get an H20 dumping in about 2 minutes... (and no, I didn't dunk him in the bayou! I wasn't so sure how he'd do paired up with a gator so I left mother nature to do the water-dumping and I stayed out of it...)

Really, just enough time to take one last picture before the down-pouring...

A lizard running for cover just before the storm...

Of course, once Matt's wonderful uncles Neil and Ken realized what was happening, they jumped onto their steeds (aka a 4-door pickup) and raced to our rescue. Although soaking wet in the space of 2 minutes, we were at least under cover in just over 5.

Our next adventure began on the Ichetucknee River. Oh yes, the Sanders were goin' inner-tubing...

Can you guess which one's mine?

I'll be honest with you and tell you that yes I did ask Matt and his family if there were alligators in this river that we'd be dipping our bums into. You know the response I got? "Oh, well, I've never seen them that far up north..." For a girl who was looking for a "Heck no!" this answer was not quite as reassuring as I was hoping for... Of course you all know that I survived because I'm now writing this blog entry but I had no such guarantee at the time. Anyways, getting back to inner-tubing.

It turns out the inner-tubing down the Ichetucknee River is such a favorite pastime of the locals that there was actually a little shuttle/train to pick up us and our tubes and take us down to the drop-in site (it was all very official). On the way I even got to witness a real-live Jerry Springer Show à la Redneck on the train. It consisted of a mother and her 5 year-old son, who was embarrassed by his mother's antics with her friends. After discreetly trying to inform her of this fact, his confrontation back fired and it only made her all the louder, now yelling "Am I embarrassing you???" It also led her to make a speech about what a good mom she is and someday he'll understand that you shouldn't be so uptight about life. A real tear-jerker, let me tell you. I kept expecting the bodyguards to come up out of the swamp and separate those two. At least diagnosing the fact that it was a 5 yr old, and not a 15 yr old, who was embarrassed by his mother kept me from mulling over my almost certain and imminent death in the jaws of those gators.

The Made-For-TV drama was over before we knew it and the real drama began. After an unsteady kerplunk off the dock into my tube I was off and floating down the river. The river, by the way, turned out to actually be an obstacle course of fallen logs, tree branches underneath, and murky shallows. Now I had a new fear to add to the list: getting poked in the you-know-where by one of those lurking tree branches. After navigating by a few fallen logs and resolving to stay only in the middle of the river, I started to relax a bit. This was fun!

As if the fun police heard my thought a big, fat, drop of water fell on my head. Uh, oh. It looked as if we were in for another H2O drenching... And that we were; water started falling on my head harder and faster than I ever thought possible. In the course of 30 seconds we were completely drenched. The dumping lasted something like 15-20 minutes. Good thing this was Florida and not Oregon, or else we would have been swamp bait for the gators. Instead it felt more like a lukewarm summer shower that only leaves you shivering during the last couple of minutes. But we survived, and after all was said and done, it was pretty fun! And the only wildlife that swam with us was a family of turtles...

Next blog entry: Georgia and North Carolina

Summer Vacation Begins

2010-07-01T14:55:00.011+02:00

It's official. I have just passed my year-long crash course in teaching 2 and 3 year-olds to do more than just wet their pants. There were moments when I wasn't quite sure I could take another crying child screaming in my year but I persevered! And guess what--call me crazy but I"m going to do it again next year. Glutton for punishment? Maybe. But at least never boring :) In honor of surviving my first year, I thought I'd take an inventory...

Number of kids in my class: 15

Size of my classroom: about 15' x 15'

Classes in the whole school: 3

Staff: 5

Different nationalities at school: 18

Kids who didn't speak a word of English when they arrived: 13

Kids who couldn't get my name right almost all year long: 5

Of which was Tania: 1

Then, Auntie: 2

And next, Mister Talia: 1

And finally, Good Morning: 1

Presents received at the end of the year: 10

Boxes of chocolate received throughout the year: 7

Bottles of champagne received: 1

Days worked during the week: 4

Vacation time : 4.5....months (including summer)

Children who cried on the first day: 13

Children who cried every day for the first week: 3

Children who cried every day for the first two months: 1

Times the kids threw up at school during the year: 35

Instances where I was thrown up on: 2

Children who peed their pants: impossible to know

Lost voice: 2x

Birthday parties: 11

Calories gained from birthday cakes: not counting

Party bags: 165

Useless interns: too numerous to count

Interns who quit because there was too much cleaning involved: 2

Interns who quit because there was too little cleaning involved: 1

Interns that we wished would have quit: 10

Youngest intern: 13

Oldest intern: 45

Intern that convinced the children she was a witch: 1

Interns that played with the toys and play dough instead of supervising it: 5

African wall supervised and created by yours truly: 1

Complimentary jungle complete with hanging snakes: 1

Hours it took to complete the project: 15

Sanity lost over project: 100 %

Cuteness of my kids: priceless

Tribute to odd Parisian things...

2010-06-27T19:51:00.009+02:00

Some of the weird and oddly fascinating things you could see in Paris...
Sadly not pictured: horse-drawn carriage traveling amidst honking Peugeots and whizzing vespas, bumping into Disney star Selina Gomez while filming for her new movie "Monte Carlo" on the steps of Sacre Coeur, and wedding processional in the park with the groom managing to play the blues on his trumpet with one hand and hold his sweetie's with the other.

No explanation necessary.

You see one of these in downtown Paris just about as often as you see a pick-up truck here...

View from the back...

Literally: Crazy Salt. No idea why.

Just moments before the second coming. Look closely and you'll see Jesus' left foot just behind the yellow cloud.

Literally: Talia's brides.

Can we say inspired by the Icelandic ash...?

Somehow they actually managed to make this bus just like sunshine:
It blinds you every time you look at it...

Morroco: day 4 & 5

2010-06-10T20:19:00.019+02:00

After our rather excruciating day of train travel, we decided day 4 was all about taking it easy... So back to the beach we happily trotted. Our jellyfish friend had long since demised so the biggest drama of the morning was spotting a pack of wild dogs (all over the place in Morocco) and trying not to step on washed up debris. (better debris though than a giant jellyfish, let me tell ya!) After some serious shell collecting and a couple more face-planting body surfs, our tummies were grumbling and it was time to think about a more serious issue: lunch. Not wanting to completely rob our in-laws of house and home, we set off for the neighborhood mini grocery store (the equivalent size of a big snack shack but selling everything from eggs to canned beans). That's when we came up with the brilliant lunch plan: hot dogs. Of course a bit of creativity was in order with no hot dog buns for sale but necessity is the mother of invention and thus the Moroccan hot dog was born:

While probably one of the more bready hot dogs I've eaten, I do have to say it wasn't too shabby after all. My favorite thing about the whole meal; however, was the grand total for 4 large homemade bread rolls, a pack of yogurt, 2 diet cokes, and some laughing cow cheese: 1.50 Can someone please bring these prices to Paris???

When Anne and Isaac finally got off work though we were more than ready to go out on the town again. Which brings us to El Jahida: a tiny little Moroccan coastal town. I've got to say that the differences between Marrakesh and El Jahida were instantly apparent: while obviously the only non-Moroccans in the village, we were instantly at ease with our surroundings. Somehow not being in such a tourist-targeted place gave us more anonymity, not less, which we happily soaked up for the evening. Here's the whole gang entering into the oldest part of the city:

Matt couldn't resist the urge to practice his stroller pushing skills... (and no, please don't interpret this comment as eluding to me being pregnant--what can I say, the guy just likes to be prepared...)

Meanwhile Nathan occupied his time bonding with the locals...

I loved how authentic the city felt...

After a nice little tour of the place we decided to sit down for some grub. We got a kick out of the menu's spelling variation of Cheeseburger... The best part about it is that it's spelled exactly like it's pronounced in French! Ah, zeez crazee Frrench speekeers...

Here's me drinking a seriously delicious smoothy thingy...
(please ignore my yellow face...let's just write it off as a weird tan...)

Day 5 was short but sweet. After one last trip to the beach and a rather tearful beach side farewell (ok, so really it was Nathan crying because he couldn't bear leaving behind his sandcastle), we drove into Casablanca and then were off to the airport for our Easy Jet flight. We took once last pic of the whole gang together before parting...

Ah, and here we were, back in our wonderful little city of Paris, where even the airport greeted us...

My favorite part was all the pics of mini desserts... as if reminding us of what we'll miss out on next time we travel!

And then there was the terminal bathroom... With its flourescent pink and lime stall doors, it was the most frooffy bathroom I've every seen and had enough x chromosomes on its walls to un-jetlag any passenger who would happen to wander in.

But all that to say
"Ah Paris, we missed you..."

Morocco: day 3

2010-06-02T10:31:00.032+02:00

Marrakesh. Said to be one of the must-sees in Morocco. Knowing that we would need at some point to go visit someplace other than the beach so that we had something to tell friends and family (other than soaking up rays and bonding with washed up sea life), we decided to take the train to Marrakesh and see what the hype was all about. Our taxi to the train station turned out to be a Subaru-type looking car, dating back to prehistoric times (well...ok the 80s...) and cost us a mere 1.80 (in euros, that is). Not bad.

After grabbing our tickets, we rushed on board with the rest of the crowd hoping to find two seats together. Initially, pickins' were looking pretty slim... As it turns out, the train was divided into small rooms with one long booth bench on each wall for about 6 people to sit comfortably (3 on each). Oh course, no one had decided to tell us that there was a contest going for who could squish the most people into their little train car, which goes back to my earlier statement that pickins' were slim...in the first 5 cars that is. Obviously someone up front must have missed the memo that there was a whole second half of the train because no one seemed to care about the last 5 cars. Which is how Matt and I happily found and claimed for ourselves our very own little Moroccan train room. Sighing contently, we settled in and kicked back, preparing ourselves for the next two hours until we reached our destination.

Here Matt is enjoying a nice little devotional session in our peaceful little car.

Meanwhile, I contented myself with enjoying the scenery...

Matt still reading... Ok, it's been an hour and now I'm starting to get a little bored... Are we there yet?

My scenery has turned trashy...

Hour two: how can we entertain ourselves?

Oh the joys of sitting on your butt for hours on end... Have I mentioned that now our train has just completely stopped and we aren't moving?

I look like I'm about to devour Matt's cheek and I'm not entirely sure I'm joking either... After 45 min of not moving we are now chugging along at record pace...for a snail that is...

Hour three : no pictures exist during this time as I am too busy taping myself whining about the lack of feeling in my butt (to which I later deleted in the attempt to keep my friends)....

Hour four: Whining has reached it's full and impressive peak. Matt has long since tuned me out and now I am ranting to the cows racing us outside my window.

Last 30 minutes of the trip: Desperate to do something other than talk to cows, I convince Matt to sing praise and worship songs with me. Thus begins a half hour sing along session in both French and English (After the cows I gave up caring about whether our friends in the neighboring room were questioning my sanity or not).

Atlast....Marrakesh.

Here's the main plaza. I was hoping for a pic with the snake charmers but there were two slight problems with this: 1) they seem to think that everyone must want to touch their pet snakes and don't really ask your permission before getting up close and personal with you (which literally had me hiding behind Matt's back in self defense) and 2) before attempting to pose for a pic with Matt the guy had to go and kiss the snake and then start proclaiming that by touching Matt it would bring all kinds of healing and prosperity and other voodoo garbage, and well, that was the end of that for Matt. And that's why I took a pic of the spices instead...

It wasn't long before we decided to veer off into the souks (Arabic for market).

Cool huh?

I decided it was time to try my attempts at bargaining. Always having been the wuss of the Pickett family, I thought for sure I'd suck at it. Language wasn't a barrier because French is a national language in Morocco, but would I have the guts to succeed at this ancient Middle Eastern art? It turns out that I wasn't as bad as I would have thought.

Before I toot my own horn, I have to say that there were a few factors working in my favor: 1) the Moroccan dirham is much more inflated than the euro, so to know how many euros you are spending you have to divide by 10 (150 dirham = 15 euros). So what sounds like a lot isn't as much as you might think 2) I had been informed multiple times that Marrakesh vendors make ripping off tourists an art form 3) It turns out that I am actually a very stingy and stubborn person 4) the vendors were so aggressive that it started really annoying me and pretty soon I didn't give a crap as to what they thought of me.

Which led me to find this wall decor (pictured below on either side of the frame with pics) that I just had to try bargaining for. Well, he started with a 40 euro asking price, to which I countered 10, and both of us just about had a hernia. All I could think of was, have you never heard of Ross or TJ Maxx? (yes, less authentic but much cheaper!) As if hearing my thoughts he jumped with his own story about the hours it takes to make each sconce by hand and how you won't find better quality elsewhere. Truthfully, I did waiver. I mean, what if he really wasn't just milking me of my dirham? In the end though cheapness (I mean prudence and frugality) won out and I had my sconces for 20 total. I'll never forget his parting words (and no, I'm not lying here!): "Are you sure you weren't raised by Moroccan gypsies?" and to Matt "Hold on to her!" Ha ha, I don't think I've ever had a stranger but more touching compliment. :)

Here are the rest of our wanderings through the souks...

You tend to see some interesting things. Case in point, this display of miniature shoes. What ever do people do with shoes that are the size of their thumbs?

Or these rather stylish mannequins. I'm not sure that they've yet figured out that the fake n' bake look is so last year...

At one point during our stroll we had a little Moroccan boy approach us (twice) to inform us that the touristy place was back in the other direction. Having wanted to get off the beaten path we weren't sure what to make of his insistence. Of course when one of our wanderings took us to this dead-end and deserted alley way, light started to dawn a bit. Just as I was starting to have visions of mobbings and Ali Baba's men catching up with us we found our way back.

For a lighter and funner look at the city we decided to take a carriage ride. Here my bargaining skills only earned me a 20 cent discount... the man was like a rock, immovable. He grew on me over time though--especially when he decided to ignore the construction worker and drive around the barricade towards oncoming traffic. We thought for sure he'd go to grownup timeout when we saw the worker talking to the police and angrily motioning towards us but soon both were distracted by something else and our tour guide got away scott-free, chuckling all the while... Here's our view from the carriage...check out all the lovely patterns...complementary, wouldn't you say?

And of course the cheesy couple shot...

The pinkest bus I've ever seen... Barbie would be proud...

Not too shabby huh?

Our last stop on the trip was to wander around towards anything that looked interesting. Here's a mosque that we think is probably famous but darned it we know anything more about it other than it looked cool and good in photographs...

Something significant attached to the mosque...

Resting blistered feet in the garden...

Pretty...

Thankfully our return trip was an hour shorter than the morning's. Being pro's at the whole Moroccan train room thing we simply headed straight to the back, kicked up our feet, and took a well deserved snooze.

Morocco: day 2

2010-05-24T11:30:00.015+02:00

Beach trip anyone? Noting the giant jellyfish to your right you might be intrigued about day two. The day started with a casual morning breakfast on Anne and Isaac's balcony (can we say jealous!) accompanied by a sandy stroll along the beach. That's when we ran into...you guessed it, more wildlife! And yes, please take the phrase 'ran into' in it's literal sense. Apparently getting washed up on shore is a rather violent way to die as there were detached appendages scattered about... No stinging however...

Here is Matt gallantly thinking about how to protect me from any further critter harm. (beetles, jellyfish, what is this, one animal attack a day or something?)

Shaking off our jellyfish encounter, we decided a little ocean swimming was in order. That's when I hopped into my itsy-bitty teeny weeny polka dot bikini and ran Baywatch style into the surf....or not. Lets back up and explain a few things first. Morocco just happens to be a very modest and conservative Muslim country. For me this translated into a one piece suit and shorts combo that would have made an Amish mother proud. I'm not sure what difference it really made in the end though as I still felt under-dressed sitting next to women wrapped from head to toe in layered robes.

But, well, what can you do really but go on baring your ankles and hope you're not breaking too many cultural norms in the process? Thus I made it my goal not to think about my naked appendages and dove in. Which was amazing by the way.
Imagine the scene: sun, sand, surf....sand...oh crap, lots of sand! Which brought me to the realization that the jellyfish must have really had an awful ending. What I had failed to notice was that the shore sloped down rather sharply where the waves started; and therefore, the moment I started body surfing I would be riding along inside a wave, feeling the rush of it all, when suddenly I would slam into a pebbly wall of sand and the trip would end just that fast. There were two problems resulting from my sandy faceplant each time: 1) the next wave would come along and if you didn't get your butt up fast enough, you were heading towards faceplant number two and 2) thanks to that lovely swimsuit get-up, all that sand would go down my suit and settle at my waistline. Which left me with popping up out of the water only to discover that I had rather large fat roll around my midsection, and honestly, what girl needs more of those? Of course that meant swimming out to deeper waters to empty myself of all that sand (an art form I quickly found out!) and going through the process all over again with the next wave!

Next we were off to visit Anne and Isaac's school which is just outside of Casablanca. It's an American-run school but actually manages to pull off being tri-lingual with English, French, and Arabic. Not too shabby, ay? Well it didn't take me long before I was drooling over the the state of the art premises, classroom sizes (six times the size of mine with the same amount of kids!), and cool international environment. Ironically one of the few pics I took of the school was actually the giant piles of empty water bottles pictured to the right here. Meeting the staff was a whirlwind of languages and nationalities--I quickly started taking cues from Anne as to what language we were supposed to speak (not kidding you, it changed about every minute or so depending on who we saw).

Here we are taking a break from the language craziness...where else but the playground...

Of course, Matt just had to seize the opportunity to get one of his GQ shots in...

Meanwhile I got to swing with my way cute nephew...

Anne, my sister-in-law, working on her swing pumping skills... (useful when you work with children)

Next we were off to dinner... Now this is the part of the story where we'll separate the true travelers from the tourists. You see, a true traveler would be appalled that here we were in Morocco and we were going out for Mexican. I, however, am more than willing to look tacky if it means a burrito and decent guacamole. (Let's just be nice and say that France has not quite mastered the art of the burrito quite yet...or any spicy food for that matter...) My favorite part about the whole thing is the giant sombrero table light hanging over our heads in the picture. In another life I would have plopped right there on the table and pretended to wear it....

Mexican fix out of the way, we headed off to the souks for some real Moroccan authenticity.
Here's the entrance on the right...

...and a back alley view of the market...

Matt fell in love with the piles of cheap sunglasses and got his first experience with bargaining. At a mere 7 euros he was rather happy with his purchase. So happy in fact that his inner cool guy came out and we just had to snap a picture documenting the occasion.

Our last stop on day two was Rick's Cafe. Yes, for all you Casablanca fans, the Rick's Cafe. For all you who are clueless and are wondering why I keep repeating the name of the cafe, let me explain. Ever seen the classic Casablanca? Yeah well, I hadn't either. But I got to, on a giant screen tv inside the cafe. And from what I can understand, it's this movie about a girl and a guy, and another guy, and she falls in love and there's trouble and then they never see each other again. What makes it different than every other chic flick is that it's set in Casablanca at a place called Rick's Cafe. Which turns out these days is a fairly posh, swanky place for tourists to go visit and relive the romance (on the big screen tv of course). And thus we ended our day sipping drinks on a giant pool table turned dinner table, laughing and chatting with Anne's teaching friends, and wondering what the next day's adventures would hold...

Morocco: day 1

2010-05-19T10:47:00.000+02:00

When Matt and I went on our honeymoon the most reoccurring question was "Where the heck do people who live in Paris go on vacation?" Contrary to popular belief, there are actually things other than lovestruck couples and top models that live in Paris. And occaisionally even Parisians need to get away from the city for some good ol' R&R. The answer: Morocco. And that, my friends, is where we went recently to escape the daily grind of smooching pairs and French fashionistas.

Our adventure began in the best way possible: complicated. In order to get to the airport to
catch our 6:30 am flight (yikes!) we had to be at check-in no later than 5:20 am. Which also happens to be about when the first metro starts up. Too early to get on the metro and too stingy to catch a cab from Paris, we decided to book a hotel room at the Formule 1 next to the airport. We quickly found out why the prices were so dirt cheap... enter happy public bathroom/shower signs...
Yes, we got to share a bathroom and shower with the rest of the hotel and some very quirky bathroom door people. Just to document the happy experience I snapped a couple shots of our deluxe hotel experience:

The rooms themselves weren't that bad, more like a simplified dorm room. Of course, we were slightly concerned when we read online that they only had bunk bed rooms available still, but somehow we managed to luck out and get a room for three (one bunk bed and one double bed underneath). After a good 4 hours of sleep we rolled out the door and got our ride over to the airport.

It wasn't hard to tell who had EasyJet tickets to Morocco--it turns out it was the only plane crazy enough to take off so butt-early in the morning. So we stumbled into line with all the other poor souls and waited to check-in. Somewhere between excited and half-asleep, I was only able to partially appreciate the drama when someone in line forgot one of their suitcases. The airline worker, looking a little cranky to be up without coffee started barking off announcements that whoever had left it had better come get it quick before it got confiscated by airport security. Whoever it had been was apparently un-phased by her early morning threats and there it stayed. Soon it was surrounded by a fenced-in barrier. Just about the time I started wondering what good a little fence would do should a bomb explode, a guy casually walked up and grabbed it, ending our morning entertainment.

3 1/2 hours and one serious I hate-kids-in-airplanes headache later, we were on Moroccan soil. My first exposure to so many woman in veils, I tried not to stare too openly. I wasn't quite sure what to do with the Moroccan lady working in the airport bathroom who just looked at me like I was supposed to give her money or something for daring to enter her public restrooms. Outside the airport I knew I couldn't be in Kansas anymore since at 8am it was already well into the high 80s (30 degrees Celsius) with blue skies and swaying palm trees. (note our first yay we're in Morocco! pic to the left)

After getting picked up at the airport by my bro-in-law, Isaac, we were off heading towards downtown Casablanca. I gotta say, it was quite the experience. It's not everyday in France that you see motorbikes (and I do mean bikes!), donkey-drawn wagons, and cows using the same motorway space. While warned about Moroccan driving, I was unprepared for the pedestrians that would just wander casually out onto the highway to cross the road. I'm not sure how many times I pushed down on that imaginary break on the passenger's side....

Once at Anne (Matt's sister) and Isaac's place the fun began... We knew anyplace that had 3/4
of the living room walls covered in couches had to be a quality place.
Matt, feeling his North African seductive side coming out just had to get a pose on the couch (or should I say couches?). Yes, I married a cool guy. A quick tour of the neighborhood quickly revealed some very fascinating revelations.... For instance, snails are aplenty in Morocco...

...And livestock as well... Note the cow in the empty lot next
to Anne and Isaac's and the sheep that I apparently
disturbed during mid-morning snack on the side of the
road.

Our morning expedition also turned up a seaside cafe/restaurant to which me and Matt were instantly thrilled. Deciding to grab some food there, we sat down for our first Moroccan culinary experience. Rule number one when dining in Morocco is that most likely there will only be half of the items listed on the menu actually in the kitchen. (a bit of a letdown for me because I was really looking forward to trying one of the many random juice combos that they had listed--after all, have you tasted avocado juice?)

Rule number two is beware of all that plentiful wildlife. Enter my friend the beetle.
I first met him when I felt a slight itch going on on top of my head. Thinking I was going crazy I started scratching my head wondering if there was something in the air that would make my head feel like it had a life of its own. When I felt the lump in my hair I knew it couldn't be the air and out came this little...well, big fella. Cute, isn't he? Turns out he's a flying beetle and decided to get rather intimate with my hair over lunch. Momentary crisis averted, I couldn't help wondering if he wouldn't come back to my hair, and for the rest of lunch I had visions of beetle eggs and began a 15 second hair pat down routine just to make sure that he had taken my rejection seriously.

Rule number three: speak Arabic together so that the local cats don't know you're tourists.

Case in point, our little mangy feline friend here. Did she go up to any other table to beg for scraps? Oh no, her tourist sense was in full drive and thus we ended up with an adopted pet...who wouldn't stop meowing at us the entire meal. I know that she had tourist radar, because the minute our waiter approached she started hissing and he responded by a good threatening swing (leading me to believe that they've had this type of discussion before). Unfortunately it wasn't long before our new friend was back again and meowing all the louder. Well, it also wasn't long before our waiter was back and this time there was more hissing and more chasing, until the guy had chased the thing off the entire restaurant grounds. 5 minutes later and this time Matt feels sorry enough for the little hairy thing that he throws her some of his roll to ward off starvation. Well, apparently starving cats these days are on the picky side and it just shut her up for a mere 30 seconds until she discovered it was bread and not meat. Alas, finished with our meal and afraid of the waiter's reaction once he found out we had fed his mortal enemy, we hightailed it out of there and onto the next days adventure.

And there you have it: day 1 of 5 in Morocco.

ah the French...

2010-04-19T13:40:00.000+02:00

The flowers are blooming and spring is in full swing here in Franceland. It's my fav time of the year in France, so I thought I'd dedicate this post to the Frenchies and my favorite French words....

Funny, odd or not what'd you think words:

Tampon: tampon...or stamp. Yes, please just picture for a minute how awkward it is for an anglophone to walk into a French craft store and ask if they have any rubber stamps...

Bras: arm :)

Arme: gun or weapon

Car: a bus

Bus: a bus...confusing right?

Doudou: pronounced 'doo doo' it actually means stuffed animal...

Ananas: no, not french for bananas...actually pineapple :)

Pamplemousse: could they have come up with a funnier sounding

word to say grapefruit?

Blesser: not bless, hurt....

Cave: basement actually

Chair: flesh!

College: middle school...

Crayon: a pencil

Dot: dowry

Hyper: big, very

Poisson: nope, not poison--fish!

Solitaire: not the game--lonely. Although maybe they're
not incompatible...

Hilarious words stolen and then modified from English:

a "brushing": getting your hair styled
a "shampooing": no, not pronounced shampoo-ing but
'shampwhoh' with a Frenchy accent
a "relooking": any guesses? this one took me months to
figure out it means a makeover!
a "parking": a parking lot...hmm, did someone get lazy and
leave off the end?
"pom pom girl":a cheerleader

Well, that's what I've got for now...

Uproar outside

2010-03-31T14:37:00.001+02:00

Breaking news: as I am writing this there is a political rally going on just outside our front door. Matt is actually snapping pics as we speak...

Let me back up a bit though. So here we were, Matt, I, and a friend of his from college saying our goodbyes and wishing her 'bon voyage' when Matt, great husband that he his offered to help her carry her bags downstairs and then run back upstairs to take the trash out. As he comes back up he tells me to grab some shoes and come take a look; there's a big demonstration going on outside.

Being a big proponent of laziness I throw on Matt's slippers and run down the stairs, trash bag in hand. Hearing the drums just outside the courtyard, I crack the door slightly ajar, expecting to see rows of protesters marching down the street fully taking advantage of their right to be outraged in France. But I can't see anything because there's this big black man standing in my way, blocking my view. That's when I realize that it's not going on in the street outside our apartment building but literally in front of our dang door!
The drama continues to unfold as we realize our glass recycling bin isn't in the courtyard where it normally is, but out amidst the protesters...aka wading through this crowd who turnout to be illegal immigrants (in this case mostly African males) protesting France's decision not to legalize them. (Does anyone else catch the irony in the situation?)

I do have to admit the idea of tossing our recycling bottles in with our trash was looking more and more appealing... Yet, being the good tree-huggers that we are we decided to rise above the temptation and make one small step towards a greener tomorrow and venture outside. So picture the scene: here we are, two whities in amidst a huge group of illegal aliens, one wearing mens bathroom slippers, attempting to make the 100 yards to the nearest recycling bin.... Now if that isn't environmental heroism in the face of protesting randomness, I don't know what is... Only in France folks...

2010-03-22T21:33:00.001+01:00

Ok, well it's about time for the next posting... And I kinda thought I might as well share about where I work, since so many of you often ask me questions about just exactly what I do. (yes, occasionally I do more than just sit around living up the good life in France, chowing down on baguettes and french pastries) So for starters, the basics:

I work in a English-speaking private preschool/kindergarten just outside of Paris
mornings I have my own class of 2 and 3 year olds (yes, surprisingly they can actually be taught and not just babysat...)
afternoons we switch things up and I can have any of our three different classes to teach science or art to
there are at least 20 different nationalities in our school
I only work 4 days a week (Wednesdays off) and get an atrocious amount of vacation time...which I love
our school is basically a Montessori school (with a heck of a lot of French, English, and American teaching methods thrown in for good measure)

Ok, so there's the basics, here's a couple of highlights from the year thus far:

Asian Day
what is it: well, in order to commemorate our term's afternoon theme on Asia, we thought we'd throw a bunch of our Asian moms, lots of good food and a plenty of Indian saris into the same school. End result: a different county in every room, hyper kids, best lunch ever, and a serious sari wedgie. I also learned that Indonesians jump rope with rubber bands and saris are seriously not meant for tall people. check out the pics:

ps. as much as I know you all want to see pics of the kiddos, due to privacy reasons I can't put their cute lil' faces up on the screen.

Me and the girls...from left to right:
Nzola (intern), Marilyne (French-American 3/4 yr old teacher), Benedicte (French Director aka my boss), Me, Lydie (French full time assistant), Becky (English 5/6 yr old teacher)

The Asian art mural that I'm working on with my kids

Me posin' with all the Indonesian moms in front of their feast they prepared for us

Indian Room

Le Lido...what is it: Paris' most deluxe cabaret show. why? because sometimes being a schoolteacher has it's blingbling connections.

So the real story is that the parents of one of the little girls in my class are performers at the Lido, located on the famous Champs-Elysées Boulevard (in theory the richest street in Paris). Out of their delighted affection for their daughter's beloved teacher (lol), they decided to invite all of us staff at school to go check it out on a very big discount. Given it's 'risqué' reputation, we girls donned our dresses, not quite sure what to expect when we got there (other than lots of feathers and little outfits). The first thing I saw was the most ginormous chandelier I've ever seen--it honestly reminded me of some deluxe beast that was going gobble up the next person that couldn't pay for all this bling. Newho, once seated a table to watch the pre-show act, we were immediately ushered glasses of champagne and had a photographer arrive to take both group and individual shots...only a mere 30 euros per photo at the end of the evening...

Once the show got started we were quickly bedazzled by a glittering display of over the top costumes and various talent acts. The mother of the girl in my class conveniently forgot to mention that she was the star of the show (and here we were asking ourselves if we'd be able to recognize her in all those feathers and makeup when suddenly she comes riding in from the ceiling). The father of the girl in my class is a contortionist and I have to admit I will never think of him in the same way again (after all, is it natural to be able to fold yourself in all those positions?). Other highlights included:

a pyramid, swimming pool, and ice skating rink that all rose from the floor at different intervals.
something around 20 costumes changes over the course of the show.
a guy who reminded me of a combo between gollum (spelling?) from Lord of the Rings and Donald Duck

Alas, a rather unforgettable night...

Conclusion: despite the wet pants, tantrums, and occasional throw-up sessions, my job rocks!

2010-03-05T14:49:00.000+01:00

Ok, well I'm not sure this is a new post so much as an extension of the last one... Newho. So, it occurred to me that I hadn't put up any pics of the kitchen and entryway so I thought I'd do that. While going a little snap-crazy I also had the brilliant idea to post some pics of our furry little apartment-mates as well...which well, turned out to be a little more dramatic than intended :) (isn't it always with me?)

So here's the storyline:
There's Matt looking like the proud hamster-dad that he is, showing off Feisty (aka Hamster #1)
all is going well...

...until we decide to try a group photo with Latte (aka Hamster #2)...
here they are completely oblivious to the other's presence

when we decide to let them chat on top of the cage...
that's when Feisty decided to go all pyscho killer on us and here she is running after Latte, just moments before taking a big ol' bite at her butt. So of course that spurs Matt and I into action in an attempt to save Hamster #2 by scooping up the perpetrator but that only makes matters worse because the little butt-biter takes a big chomp at Matt's hand as well, this time drawing a little blood. Matt, not caring for being bitten, flings her toward the wall as a reaction to the pain. Now most hamsters might find that a bit intimidating if not deadly, but our little death-defying hamster is not afraid of anything. Feisty somehow managed to grab onto the cage and was hanging on for dear life on the side. Of course me trying to rescue her and put her back in her cage earned me a bite as well. Meanwhile Latte had fallen off the top of cage and was now off exploring my dresser drawers. The crisis was finally averted when I bribed Feisty back into her food bowl and very skillfully threw the thing into the cage before she could go on another one of her killing sprees.

And thus the end result: separate cages...

2010-02-04T20:29:00.000+01:00

The moment you've all been waiting for: the blog is back. Yes, you heard it ladies and gentlemen, normalcy has snuck into the junior Sanders' household. End product: blogging time. So what have we been up to all of this time? Well, to name a few, we:

have (at last!) settled into our new place (after packing up 7 giant suitcases of stuff from the wedding, 3 of which Matt's parents were super nice and took with them, and lugging the other four through the Paris metro and RER subway system...which lemme me tell you folks, c'est pas evident!)
entered (or for Matt re-entered) back into the working world (I had just about forgotten what it was like to get up earlier than 8 am...)
became church members (ok, well as Pastor Matt kinda already was one :) but now I'm official! That might sound trivial but let me remind you that I had to give my testimony twice in French--once at the church council meeting with all the elders and once in front of the whole congregation! oy vey... )
have become the new proud parents of two mini hamsters who are ridiculously spoiled by all the attention we give them (although due to lack of parenting skills we've been unable to break up the sibling squabbles and had to buy a second gave to separate the little buggers...)
got my (Talia's) French residency again...for the third time...and will continue to get it until years from now I become an official Frenchy (don't panic though folks, it just means that I get my second passport but I don't have to give up the first)
joined the church Christmas choir (a stttrreetchhing experience for me, I can assure you all...)
joined the realm of universal marriedom in learning how to work out joint finances, a more complicated social calendar, 'learning how to communicate" and the like...
spent our first Christmas ever together in France
entered into the mysterious realm of church ministry as a couple...
learned that tv in a French public hospital costs money while not so in the states when Matt got shipped to the hospital following an inflated elbow and a bacterial infection. (no worries now and thankfully his elbow has gone back to its normal size now...that could have been awkward)

I could go on (I'm sure that doesn't shock any of you) but I'll leave you with that for now. Here are some pics of our little place (and when I say little, I mean 39 sq meters and 419 sq ft) which basically consist of a small living/dining room, bathroom, kitchen, and bedroom

First, the befores...

Then the middles:

And the afters...

going to the chapel...

2009-10-04T16:31:00.000+02:00

Well howdy guys! Ok seriously, before you get all mad at me for taking an eternity to get this whole blog thing back up and running, do remember the whole series of life changing events, you know, like kinda moving permanently to another country, getting married, starting a new job, trying to do paperwork in France...
So since I know a whole bunch of you are chompin' at the bit to look at pictures from the wedding, I thought I'd share some of the kodak moments with you all...

(Oh, for those of you who are out of the loop, this summer I got married to a handsome frenchie named Matthieu in my homestate, Oregon. It was great because we had a really good turnout: somewhere around 10 frenchies were able to make the trip, all of his uncles and aunts who live on the east coast, and then friends from all over. There were some great moments to be had by all, like the wedding party doing re-enactment skits of me and Matt in 50 years, 'Crazy' by Brittany Spears ending up accidentally on the reception playlist rather than 'Crazy' by Gnarles Barkley, my Dad busting out his country dance moves, and my little wagon full of ring bearers running over my mom's dress while cutting a corner... But when all is said and done, here we are back in Paris again, officially hitched and ready to take on France! So stay 'tuned' for more updates on the great adventure that was our honeymoon, life over here, the new job and apartment, you get the idea... )

Spring is in the air

2009-03-30T11:59:00.000+02:00

Bonjour to all of the wonderful people who read this blog! I know some of you are thinking that it's about time that I went about writing a new entry. The problem is that you can't really write about life if you haven't had much experience with it; and sometimes you get so caught up in the living of it that you forget to write about it! In an attempt not to write all of your eyes fuzzy, here are the highlights of the past couple months “en bref”:

Matt's 30^th Birthday Party: That's right folks, we needed to celebrate Matthieu's initiation into the world of thirty-somethings in style. Thus, the idea of a surprise party was hatched. After a lot of (and I mean a lot) of emails in French; some false alarms with people at church not realizing the date had changed (they asked how his party had gone); and me permanently bonding with the Paris metro (to bring all the party stuff in at one time by myself was next to impossible, so I brought it all in several trips, sneaked into the church and hid it in the Sunday school play room...) the night of the party arrived. The greatest part about the date change was that Matt's mom and sister could be there to celebrate with us, so the “plan” was to meet them at the church and then go out to dinner. Little did Matthieu know that when he opened the door downstairs there'd be between 30-40 people singing happy birthday to him. After a few minutes of complete shock—he thanked everyone for coming and asked if we were celebrating any other birthdays as well! I don't think it was really until the end of the night that it finally sunk in that all this was just for him! ; ) For me the evening passed in a blur—I remember the hi's and the goodbye's at the end and something fuzzy in the middle, I'm just not sure what exactly... The American couple that's doing our marriage counseling told us that this was good practice for our wedding day!
On the Hunt for a Job: Most of my time these days has been spent on the fabulous activity of job hunting. The great thing is that it seems like my blood, sweat, tears, and compelling cover letters have paid off! I went in for an interview this last Thursday at a private preschool in the hopes of getting the Kindergarten teaching position up for grabs. And from the way she was talking at the end of the interview, while not 100% certain, I've got a good feeling that I've got the job... only time will tell! As for the specifics: it's a Montessori school, currently their student body represents 18 different nationalities, the teaching is almost completely in English (except for an hour in French every day), I'd work all week days except for Wednesday (don't you just love the French way of life?), and live happily ever after! If you want to check it out, the link to the school is: http://www.rainbow-pre-school.com/
Speaking of living happily ever after, Matt and I have officially found our castle to do it in. Granted, it's a bit smaller than the average castle (40 sq m or 430 sq ft), but I hear that the downsized look is in these days. What it lacks in space, it makes up for in Parisian charm and accessibility (it's literally right across the street from the metro line). Yet again we're reminded of how fantabulously great God is—we had all but given up hope on an apartment within the city limits (it's mind-boggling expensive) and then poof! God gives us one that we love in a great location—like usual, going beyond our expectations. Here are pics of the living/dining room, bedroom, kitchen, and bathroom. We're hoping Matt can move in there sometime in June, so that we wont have to deal with moving when we come back.

Well, to accomplish my goal of not writing a novel, I'll leave you all for now. Stay tuned for an update on my birthday, life, etc...

Holiday Mayhem Part 2

2009-02-16T10:36:00.000+01:00

Hmmm, seeing as how it’s already February, I guess I should finish part two of Christmas. The problem is that most of the Christmas details are getting a bit fuzzy now… What I seem to remember of my actual Christmas is warm and fuzzy like any Christmas should be, although definitely a bit different with the snow interference. Of course, I mean warm and fuzzy in the Pickett sense of the word, which definitely included a Christmas documentary and music video performed by my sis and me. (no, I wont be showing the music video publicly, and yes, I do have it on tape) We tend to take literally the phrase “party like a rock star.”
Matt and I (aren’t you proud of my correct grammar Matt?) didn’t let the oceans of separation get to us, we skyped our way through the winter holidays. Gosh, I love skype. And I love Matt—what a great combo! And after 150 or so invitations started (the number got more and more blurry as we got more and more tired of folding those awful things!), I found myself packing up a whole lot more things than when I came, and heading back to France.
Once in France, Matt and I had our own type of celebration. Notice our Christmas tree to the left. No they don’t all run that small or glittery in France; but hey, we liked our little tree. So, after spending lots of money at Christmas what seems to be the most logical step next? Why spending more money of course! You’ll understand when I explain to you that twice a year France just goes overboard on sales.
I mean really overboard. The government only allows them to do it twice a year so they’ve got to “profiter” whenever they can! Which means that every Parisian shopping center is packed to the rafters (if they have rafters in France) with greedy, aggressive, bargain mongers. Unbeknownst to Matt and I, we chose the first weekend of the sales (they usually run a month long) to go. At one of the most popular shopping centers: Chatelet Les Halles.
Let me tell you that when I say the word ‘sardines’, it’s really not that much of an exaggeration. It was war. I went head to head with French mamas and their wailing children and I’m still not sure who won. What is clear is that we successfully found Matt and entire work outfit (suit, shoes and all) for 100 euros. Not too shabby, although it did take me two scoops of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream and some serious rest time before I was ready to talk to Matt without that whinny tone in my voice.
It was an odd day though. While Matt was in line to pay for some shoes, I found another pair that he might like and was attempting to reach him when the sales associate saw my plight. Taking the shoes from me he whisked me to the front of the store with lots of “Excusez-moi, S’il vous plait!” aka “Out of my way people, I’ve got a loud voice and I know how to use it”. Of course, I started to panic when I realized how embarrassing it was going to be to explain in broken French that I hadn’t really wanted to buy them, just show them to my fiancé. Oddly enough, he must have considered his job finished at the counter because he just dumped them on the counter and took off. I did likewise as soon as his back was turned…
The next incident occurred during my trip to the bathroom. Right in the middle of crashing energy levels, I needed to go to the bathroom. No biggie, of course that meant another line and more money to pay, but all was going along okay until I exited the restroom and saw no sign of Matt. Not knowing when he was going to be back I attempted to appear nonchalant amidst the crowd while waiting for him. All of the sudden I felt something smack me upside the head. Glancing to my right I noticed a (presumably) homeless man talking to himself and replacing his hat back on his head—the guy had walked up behind me, taken off his hat and whacked me with it! I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry or do both at once! I decided that since I would probably see more of the humor in the situation later, the crying one would work better for the moment, and maybe earn me some sympathy points with Matt for my stinging head.
Alas, I wish I could stop there. Unfortunately, I am just a magnet for unusual occurrences. After parting ways with Matt, I took the metro back to the institute. About 2 minutes after exiting the metro, a man stopped me on the street to ask for some directions. Being in a hurry, I hastily told him my best guest and went on my way. About 10 feet away from my final destination, I suddenly found myself accosted by a barrage of questions from two French policemen! One whipped out his badge with enough finesse to make any CSI actor proud while the other asked me if I knew the man I had just talked to, if he had bothered me in any way, what he wanted. I think they were a bit disappointed when I replied that he had only wanted directions, but that didn't stop then from pursuing him down the street after their little “chat” with me. I don't think I ever will find out just exactly why they were following him...

Holiday Mayhem Part 1

2009-01-14T14:10:00.001+01:00

What can I say about these last couple weeks amidst the holiday craziness? Well, a lot; believe me. Let's start with my return home for Christmas:

I'll begin by saying it was both the worst and best cross-Atlantic trip I've ever had. Some wonderful people (you know who you are!) treated me to a hotel room at the airport the night before, since the earliest Paris metro would be cutting it close to my departure time. So I packed up my stuff, checked into my room, and leisurely helped myself to all the free shampoo bottles and handouts I could get my hands on. All seemed to be going well (yes, I actually made it through security with no bag search and speaking French the whole time!), we were reaching the last segment of our looooong journey, when suddenly the airplane path on the screen took a sharp turn and we all found out (contrary to what the airline stewardess had told us about it just being a technical glitch) that Portland just wasn't safe to land in and we'd all be vacationing in Minneapolis for the night.

Did I forget to mention that I'd actually been randomly selected for an upgrade in Amsterdam and had been bumped up to first class this whole time....? Hmm, must have slipped my memory... So up until the big flight projectory change, all had really going fabulously well. Upon 3 minutes of arriving, my coat was taken and hung up for me; my “waiter” asked if I'd like some champagne to drink; and I was thrust the menu of the flight; where I chose a light chicken entrée with steamed vegetables, mashed potatoes and red wine....ah, c'est la vie baby... Of course, in the mean time, while waiting for those fabulous things to arrive, they kept me occupied with bubbly water and the most fabulous airline chair that I've ever seen (I mean, we're talking built in back massage/pressure and 10 different controls to specify the exact incline wanted).

So when I saw that our flight path had changed, while pretty disappointed that I wasn't going to immediately see my family, I wasn't quite as cranky as some of the other passengers...i.e. economy class. I was, however, tested a bit with the 3 hour time period it took to obtain our hotel vouchers, go through customs (part of that was my fault because I had forgotten to eat the apple in my bag and as a result therefore got stuck in the agriculture line), re-check my baggage, go through security again (to get those darn vouchers!), and then wait for my shuttle to come. And of course the shuttle finally came, to take me out into freezing Minneapolis where it was 0° Fahrenheit (not including wind chill) and the only time I left the hotel was once to walk three blocks to a Walmart and I nearly thought they were going to have to amputate an ear or some other small, helpless appendage due to the cold.

But then, again, being at a nice hotel, with a family suite (literally a king size bed and then a separate room for kids with 4 bunk beds included) and all the hotel/food vouchers I could ever hope for, I just about forget about the previous mayhem. The only thing really missing [insert sappy voice here] was someone to share it with, as it's a little awkward eating a plateful of grande nachos in a restaurant all by your lonesome self.

Of course, by the next morning I remembered all of the previous hassles when I attempted to take the first shuttle to the airport and realized that everyone else from the plane had the same idea as me. Thankfully, I managed to get one of the last standing places on the shuttle and survived the bumpy drive to the airport. Apparently, the driver would have gotten fined $100 for each person standing in the shuttle (which numbered to about 15) if he had been caught. At the airport we were given yet another round of vouchers and attempted for the second time to land in Portland. This time we got a whole heck of a lot closer, and made it 30 miles out before they rerouted the aircraft to Seattle.

As it turned out, there were some people on the plane with Seattle as their final destination so that ended up creating some tension, because we weren't allowed to exit the plane at the beginning. When they finally got permission to exit the plane, some other passengers got the bright idea to risk SEATAC airport rather than waiting on ours and decided to make a run for it. They weren't very good escapees, thus getting caught and returned back to the plane. Kinda made me feel like I was in a scene from Titanic or something, ya know? Well, after a couple of catnaps, quite a bit of bonding between passengers (what else was there to do?), and several hours of waiting, we were finally on our way to PDX for our final try....Which got delayed once again, this time as we were hovering in the air above the airport. And that's how we stayed: ever-hovering, ever-hoping, and making a lot of loop-dee-loops in the sky in the mean time...

Of course everyone cheered when we finally landed and were at last in Oregon territory. Never mind that it took an hour and a half to retrieve my luggage and 4 hours to get back down to Albany (normally an hour and a half), I was finally home!

The Green Cauliflower

2008-12-20T17:39:00.000+01:00

I'm sorry, but the cauliflower previously mentioned was just begging for a picture...

Happy Holidays

2008-12-20T16:46:00.000+01:00

Well, we’ve arrived at the season for jingle bells, spiced cider, and awkward moments under mistletoe. Or, if you’re French, Douce Nuit, vin chaud, and awkward moments with foie gras. (ok, that last one is limited to myself and other fellow foreigners—after all, wouldn’t you be hesitant to eat something called ‘fat liver’?) So what kicks off the holiday season with a bang of overeating and precious moments? Thanksgiving (in the States that is!)… Well not being ones to turn down an opportunity to eat fabulously good food, Matt and I accepted an invitation to get together with other fellow Americans (missionaries) in the Paris area for Thanksgiving. (Now if I’m going to be really honest with you all, we didn’t celebrate Thanksgiving on the actual holiday but the weekend just after. In reality, on the real Thanksgiving Day I ate a mediocre cafeteria version of chilli con carne…)

Everyone was contributing something, so I decided to do my family proud and bring my Grandma’s yummy broccoli salad. Matt, sweetheart that he is, had to put up with all of my last minute recipe requests. Probably those wouldn’t have been so bad if he hadn’t mistakenly grabbed cauliflower, waited through a huge line, only to find out he had to walk back to the store and do it all over again. Now before you start wondering how he could of mistook a head of cauliflower for broccoli, let me just assure you that this was no ordinary cauliflower. Picture bright green and lots of pointy things coming out from the top—even the saleslady hadn’t been sure what exactly it was. Just to be sure I gnawed off a piece of it and verified that it was indeed, cauliflower.

Crisis over, we headed out the door and onto the metro with our broccoli salad and homemade spiced cider. The evening went great—it was so fun to speak “American” with those around us. I stuffed myself full of turkey, twice baked potatoes, and chocolate chip cookies…ah, bliss… My favorite moment has to be though when Matt started opening a bottle of mineral water inches away for my face. None of that would have mattered, except for the fact that it was a rather volatile bottle, and all at once I found my face drenched by mineral water. Everyone had a good laugh and I think my face is more exfoliated as a result…

This last Thursday night was our campus Christmas party. I can’t tell you much about the first half other than I’m pretty sure it happened, because I was hidden away working in the kitchen, listening to stressed French and trying for the life of me to figure out how to say ‘never mind’. I never did figure out how to say it, but I was able to escape for the second half of the program. Good thing too, because my big debut as a French super star wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t. Somehow (my bet is because I’m a native English speaker) I had gotten roped into participating with the choir during the party. The original plan was for me to sing a short solo during the song “Glory, Glory, Hallelujah.” Not being one to really brag about my exceptional singing voice, I managed to act feeble enough to illicit the help of two other people to come to my aid and form a trio with me. All went well and the song turned out pretty cool, with the choir singing the song in French and various members singing a piece in their native language.

The night ended with a Beauty and the Beast skit with the Beast being a broken-hearted mean non-believer and the Beauty being an inspiring Christian girl who was able to turn his now-softened heart to God. It was pretty funny and well done. Stuffed from cookies and cream puff galore, we all headed back to our rooms for the night.

And there you have it, a small taste of the holiday season from an American living in Paris (wait isn’t that a movie?….)

PS. the pics are from our Thanksgiving party

A Day in the life....

2008-12-05T11:06:00.000+01:00

Well hello all! Having recovered and in full health now, I thought I'd sit down and write a couple words about life in general here. (Yes, I know you wanted to hear more about turbo clappers in the park and the like, but you're just going to have to wait for my next stroll through the park.) So basically my life in France can be divided into these categories: chef/maid extraordinaire, intelligent English professor, and sleep-starved student. But before I get into all that, here's a quick look at daily life:

All the students at the institute here have class 4 days a week with Wednesday normally being a day rest or (more likely) an opportunity for internships in the Paris community. Breakfast begins with none other than the favorite French meal supplement: bread. More specifically, a couple baguettes and some butter and jam. (Although I did catch my French roommate eating bread with peanut butter on it; however, I can guarantee you that's not the French norm!) Most people are in class during the morning, and then at 12:30 we all trickle into the dining room for lunch together. How do I describe food at the institute hmm? Think of glorified French cafeteria food and then we'll be on the same wavelength. Not that it's awful, but not that it's particularly appetite inducing either... Of course, sometimes we're saved from the fate of yet another mediocre meal by the talented people here at the institute. One woman in particular, Anne, is from Chad and occasionally cooks African food for the meal instead—those are the times of course that everyone pigs out to the maximum in an attempt to avoid eating the rest of the week. As the French say, il faut profiter! Dinner is the same deal, only at 7 pm, rather than 12:30.

Chef/Maid Extraordinaire: Ok, now when I said chef, what I really meant was the girl who slices open the packaged food and plops it into our massive corporate oven. That's what you were thinking, right? The maid part is true—although normally I don't make up beds and I certainly don't wear the black and white get-up. But I do clean the kitchen (always a feat after an African meal!), scrub the hallways, and make sure that everything stays generally clean in the main building. Other random duties include: buying the bread for the evening meal (of course!), making massive amounts of photo copies, and folding important documents like school brochures and such.

Ps. I work 16 hours a week, 4 days a week, 3-7pm

Intelligent English Professor: No comments on the first part of the title

please. :) This is actually my favorite category. I have two classes: 11 students total. (whew, big numbers I know!) Better yet, when I broke them into two classes I've got an even smaller class: 7 in one and 4 in the other. But whoever said “the more the merrier?” I'm seriously having a blast running and teaching my own classes: we've done everything from describing a picture and drawing the description, to team competitions and tongue twisters. Good times. On the side I'm also privately tutoring a pastor friend of Matt's an hour and a half each week, so that brings in a little added income on the side.

Ps. Each class is 50 minutes long, every Tuesday

Sleep-starved Student: Who would of thought I'd be back to this place again so soon after just graduating?? Ah, but here I am and I'm all too well feeling deja vu! So I'm taking three classes this term: French for foreigners, French for francophones, and Old Testament Law. Ironically, Old Testament law is my favorite! It's super interesting and has been great for my vocabulary acquisition. Of course, I might have to start supplementing my reading with some more diverse subjects, otherwise my vocab repertoire is going to consist mainly of animals, animal organs, and all kinds of violent vocabulary! But other wise it's a pretty fun class.

Well kids, that's about all for now... That's a little look at what life is like for me over here. French is continuing to improve. I like to measure my progress by the little things... you know, like if I can understand the person inquiring at the front door (although the evening the police showed up I didn't even stand a chance at comprehension—I was too worried wondering if I done something disastrous again!), how fast I can say “Can you please pass the bread?” at the table, and whether or not I'll actually ask for help in a store if I'm completely clueless. I'll tell you about Thanksgiving and the holidays soon...

2008-11-20T22:58:00.000+01:00

Hey all! I'm going to keep this as brief as possible 1) because I'm a little fatigued (as the french would say) and 2) because I'm sick (hence the fatigue). But I thought a little update might be in order just so those of you who follow this blog regularly don't think that perhaps I got lost in a crowd of protesters or shipped off to the French Isles.
Fact # 1: It's fall, and as a result some of the parks are absolutely gorgeous this time of year. I recently discovered one of my favorite parks--parc floral--(well I say favorite about just about every Parisian park) is actually only about a 10 minute walk away. Who knew that the edge of Paris was actually within walking distance? Now, for those of you who aren't very big tree huggers, this park actually provides quite a bit of entertainment. Picture walking down a picturesque trail amidst falling leaves and bright foliage when suddenly the sound of synchronized clapping reaches your ears.

Not one, but two ladies, straight faced and silent, marching in step, and very casually (as if it weren't weird at all) swinging their arms wide to clap simultaneously. Your appearance on the one person trail doesn't even phase them. Ok, whatever, you tell yourself, and carry on with your journey. Pretty soon you stumble onto a gorgeous lake full of all sort of water birds. Attempting to catch a close up photo of a swan, you ignore your childhood phobia of angry giant birds and approach it for the sake of art.

After a bit of squawking you realize that you survived the encounter and now you're ready to try again, this time with a bathing pidgin. I say bathing because what you don't really notice is the muddy water on the trail next to the lake which makes the ground a bit slippery. Narrowly missing a dunking in the water, you decide to catch a breather on the bench. It's here that you notice an aerobic group warming up and decide to watch for awhile.

You watch incredulously as the entire group starts skipping (or maybe frolicking is the better word?) led by their leader who is explaining the best skipping techniques. All this is very amusing and just when you don't think it can get much better, the previous two ladies emerge from the trail, clapping louder than before and now competing for attention with the skipping group. Good times...

Fact # 2: France is still full of all kinds of delightfully odd things that I did not know. For instance, you might have guessed that McDonald's and Starbucks had made it big over here, and I was definitely surprised last year to discover Century 21, but did you know that Weight Watchers meets every week in the building adjacent to mine?! My goodness, as if the French even need Weight Watchers... (When I told Matt this he filled me in on other American phenomena over here, like Tupperware parties and the like...) And that's not all--last week I discovered that glue comes in a spray can here! Now think of all the interesting and fun things that you could do with spray can glue in the States...

Fact # 3: This really wasn't all that brief, and I'll try to update you on the rest of my life when I'm feeling a little better. All I can say is that classes are going well, French is going well, life is going well. I would love a little prayer for my health and also my schedule if you have time. I'm still trying to figure out how to stay on top of everything and the like... Well, that's all for now!

2008-11-05T14:07:00.000+01:00

Good ol' chez moi folks...
So I share a room with one other French girl (pictured above) and then below is the common lounge/eating area shared by all the girls on the floor. Good times...

Firsts

2008-10-27T10:29:00.000+01:00

Well kids, it's been a week of firsts for me in the city of looovee and lights. Let's start with some of the lighter 'firsts', shall we?

1) First Olympic athlete siting on the metro! Still no clue who he was but I'm practically famous now as a result.

2) If that didn't impress you, then I'm sure this will get you: first model shoot I've encountered...in the park by Matt's apartment of all things! I'm pretty sure the fur coat that this girl was wearing could have been dismembered and clothed an entire African village...if they needed a fur coat that is with all that snow and such there... ;)

3)First attempt to cook American cuisine for my fellow institute residents. (successful, I have to add, for all you who were questioning my culinary skills...although not quite as successful at keeping the soy sauce in the mixing bowl...)

4) First visit to the préfecture. Oooh...now things get a little not so fun. If any of you remember, the préfecture was the agency responsible for the bane of my existence last year: French bureaucracy [enter scary duh duh duhhhhs here]. You should all be very proud of me; I walked right into the préfecture, asked for an interview, got very confused when she asked me for all these random documents, and somehow finagled my way into an interview on Tuesday! Booya! (slightly different than the 4 month wait last year)

5) Now we get to the interesting incident that occurred a couple of nights ago:
Me and Matt (Matt and I for all you grammar sticklers) like to get together on the weekends (ok, we haven't really experienced a weekend yet where we're not together...) and that usually entails a late night ride home on Paris metro/RER. Matt came with me the first couple of times just to make sure the route was ok and the like (he just doesn't trust my kung fu panda skills, I can't imagine why...). But seeing as how Nogent isn't exactly the Bronx, we began parting before the trip.
Friday night I got on the metro back to return to the institute and man was I pooped. Resting my bag on my lap with my hands clasping the handles, I decided to lean up against the side of the metro and take a wee little snoozer. This wasn't exactly the first time--in fact, one time I was so tired I actually almost fell out of my seat 4 or 5 times during the ride. But now I was getting kinda paranoid about falling asleep all the way in the fear of missing my stop and ending up in French Timbuktu.
So this man gets onto the metro and stands near my seat. I didn't really move but kinda scrunched closer to the wall to make him feel more at ease pulling down the seat next to me if he so desired. After a couple minutes he casually sits down. I see him glance over at me out of the corner of my eye, but don't think much of it really. After another glance and a few more minutes passing, all the sudden this guy starts to really relax and spread out his legs a bit...and a bit more...and a bit more... Until this guy is basically sitting with me and not next to me. So I'm thinkin' "whoa man, you're kinda invading the space bubble here!" But as it was awkward and I wasn't sure how to respond, I didn't respond at all--or move for that matter.
However, due to this guy's obvious laxity towards his fellow passenger, and my discomfort, I definitely couldn't really continue my snooze. So with eyes still partially closed, I just kept watching his legs, hoping one of these moments he'd wise up and show me some spatial respect. Well that didn't happen. What I actually saw was his hand very slowly make it's way from his lap, to the top of his leg, down past his leg and in midair reach to the corner of my bag.
Well, needless to say, instantly I sat up, gave him my 'don't you even try Sonny' stare and just as quickly his hand was back in his lap, legs to himself, everything back to normal as if the whole thing had never even happened. He got off at the very next stop.
So ladies and gents, I bring you to my last first of the week: my first pickpocket attempt. Me and Matt both think that invading my personal space was actually him testing me to see how I would respond to his close proximity, whether I was really awake or not, etc. Everything he did was very slow, deliberate, and calculated. It was incredible for me to watch this guy depart: he had graying hair, dressed nicely but not in a way as to stand out; he seemed like the epitome of a safe and trustworthy person. Scary huh? Goes to show that appearance doesn't always show you what's on the inside.
So here's the really crazy thing: when I told Matt what had happened, he told me that as I was leaving, he had prayed specifically for me not to get robbed. Crazy huh? How amazing God really is! So many things could have happened--heck, if it had been the night where I was falling out of my seat in fatigue I'm sure I would have been a gonner! But instead God chose to show his glory and protect me! So cool, I just love God.

Well, that's all for now folks. Stayed tuned for more eccentric Parisian incidents...

The Beginning

2008-10-18T11:51:00.000+02:00

Well hello there ladies and gentlemen! As probably most of you have guessed, after two weeks with no headlines about an American girl getting the boot out of France or any horrendous plane crash, I am neither dead nor wounded but am happily getting settled (petit à petit) into my new place in France. So rest assured: after one very looong flight over the ocean, a bit of jet lag, and somehow managing to drop my passport in the toilet, I have safely arrived. At least I can say that this time the flight did not involve a family of 6 very rambunctious kids running up and down the aisles while their father nosily reprimanded them in Hebrew and for that I am eternally grateful.

So what's my new home like, you might wonder? Well I'm living at a small bible institute in kind of a dorm style setting with 9 other girls from really all over. I've never seen so much diversity in one place—there's people from Vietnam, Laos, China, Estonia, one the “Stans” from the former USSR, Germany, the Caribbean, Africa, and now: good ol' USA. Let me just say that it's definitely cut down on the pressure to perfect my French accent!

It was just a wee bit of a culture shock to go from speaking 100 % English to the exact opposite when I arrived, but lemme tell ya, it's been one of the best things possible for my French. Already I'm feeling much more confident and comfortable speaking lots of French. (Somehow, last year's middle students

weren't quite as encouraging as the students at the institute are...no clue why...) :)

Since I arrived these last two weeks it's been a whirlwind of activity: I started my part time work in the kitchen at the institute (basically stuff like cleaning,

preparing the meal for the students, dancing around to the music on the radio, etc) my English class (went pretty well: definitely the first time I've ever had to prepare a syllabus and the like, but my students are super excited to start

learning English and I think I even have a few more people who'd like to sign up), and my own classes at the institute (hmm, I thought it would merely be a French class I'd be taking, but somehow I got roped into 2 French classes, and an Old Testament Law class—we'll see how that goes... ).

Highlights of my first two weeks in France: 1) calling Matt “Math” one night because my tongue refused to choose either Matthew or Matt and my brain was too fried to care; 2) showing a whole group of girls my “secret sister” person because I thought the little slip of paper had to do with my internet code; trying chicken stomach for the very first time; and 4) somehow (despite all my long hours spent in food service) managing to send an entire tray and plateful of food flying towards to hallway... Well, that's all for now folks, I'll keep you updated on the adventures to come!

The Beginning

2008-09-25T04:24:00.000+02:00

Ok, so here's the story: the frenchies have finally decided that I'm ok to enter the country--I'll be leaving on the 5 of October. Of course, providing that they don't change their minds again... :) This handsome guy will be waiting and just as soon as I'm finished with the jet-lag fiasco we'll get on to the business of being engaged, eating French pastries, and soaking up the good life in Paris. Rough life huh? Ok, I will be attempting to work too: the building in the background is actually part of the bible institute that will become my home for the next 10 months (can we say hello dorms again!?). I'll be volunteering around the campus doing odd jobs in exchange for room and board. In addition, I get to teach a young adult English class, privately tutor, and maybe (dare I say it?) conquer this darn French language finally! Let the adventures begin!

A Random Collection of Pictures From '07-08

2008-09-25T03:24:00.000+02:00

Didn't see pics last year? No worries, here's a random mix from my collection!
La Tour Eiffel
A Church in Rouen

Jodi and I enjoying a little of the French life...

my first demonstration!

One of the Normandy D-day Beaches

Those huge chunks are part of a
temporary dock set up over 60 yrs ago...

Jodi trying to flirt with the Frenchies

Linda making crepes...

Kelsey freezing
in the haunted house

down to the left: hanging out at Sacre Couer with my Australian friend Kaetlyn

Being a nerd with Charis & Matt

cute, huh?

this is why I'm marrying the kid

the poor guy couldn't hold a silly face...

I think

Mona

was

angry

when we

visited.

Looking thoughtful at the Louvre

Charis and I visiting the Louvre in Paris

Boardwalk to

a small town

in Northern

Italy

The random fencing match we stumbled on in Italy...

Eiffel Tower

my lad... isn't he handsome??

building and palm in a small Italian border town

viewpoint shot of Grenoble, France

Matt's friends David and Sophie in Grenoble

I don't really know what this is..

small hill town on the French Riviera

exploring the Normandy coast..

Grenoble

A cathedral in Caen, France

Italian flowers on the boardwalk

A church in Rouen, France

My Home

2008-07-06T04:09:00.005+02:00

Well, it wasn't exactly the homiest place in town... Ha ha actually it was the exact opposite! Ok, so picture your typical haunted house, a beyond eccentric landlord who doesn't let you have any visitors (or pee standing up in the bathroom apparently as the sign he posted indicated), and one really possessed washing machine... Yeah, made for good times this past year...