Getting resettled.

So, for all you out there that have never been abroad, coming back home is really hard. After the initial excitement of being in a new environment wears off, you are left with the bitter realization that your adventure in France (or wherever you were) is over. Despite the fact that I still miss it, and I think I always will, I have decided to keep a positive attitude. It is hard to sort out my feelings, as I have both a love for my life in France and my life here. It’s surprisingly confusing to get settled back into your American life again with these sort of sentiments. But, every day that I go to work downtown, I look around me and am forced to see how lucky I really am. I have a job with a bunch of really cool people. I live with my best friends. I go to a French speaking group which keeps me excited about French and my future in teaching it (plus, I get to meet lots of interesting people including several other former teaching assistants who just got back from France too). I want to make the most of what I’m doing now instead of sulking around and pretentiously comparing all aspects of American life to how things are in France. The truth is, the two are completely different, and trying to put down American culture because it makes me feel better is just not the way to go. Life in France was great, and my life here can be great too.

My great life so far:

Being reunited with my good friends and making new ones

My sister came to visit and we went to the natural history museum together, which was actually a lot of fun. After not seeing each other for six months, it was really nice to spend an afternoon with her just being silly and goofing off (and learning, of course, too). Word to the wise: when a museum volunteer asks you if you want to take a picture, always say YES because, well, look at the picture below. You won’t regret it.

We also got to spend the 4th of July together. We went to downtown Denver and watched fireworks, hung out with friends, and just enjoyed and celebrated America’s birthday right.

I’ve also been able to spend a lot of time with my dearest friend, Kimberly, who is just a month away from her due date. We went to the zoo the other day with her niece and nephew. We saw giraffes and elephants!

 

I’m finally, after two months, able to envisage my life being here in the US and I’m not constantly wishing I were back in Europe. It’s hard to let the identity of “American girl in France” go, but it is also refreshing to accept the finiteness of things and know that I have another exciting life right in front of me. I just want to take everything in and be in THIS moment–in Denver–and live it to its fullest, because this adventure may be over before I know it too.

That’s not saying I’ll never live in France again. In fact, I have been spending a lot of time studying for Graduate school (which is absolutely horrible, and after 6 years of not studying math, I’m struggling terribly), but I’m motivated to get back to school and one of the programs I’m hoping to get into is in Paris. Who knows? But until then, I’m practicing the philosophy I stated above.

 

Miss Francey Pants.

That’s me: francey pants. You can take the Kat out of France, but you can’t take the France out of Kat. Let me elaborate.

Like I said in my last post, I moved to Denver area last week, and let me tell you, I have been very productive. Within one week I not only landed a job, but I also have found a way to get involved in the French-speaking community. My job is at a French restaurant located in downtown Denver called Le Central. It will be really great for me to keep practicing my French because the owner, some of my colleagues, and even some customers that come in are French. The only hard part is when people order and I can’t understand what they want because they will pronounce the orders in really interesting ways. But I will fight the urge to correct them.

The second thing I’m really proud of myself for doing is finding a meet-up group for people who speak French and want to practice with each other. I got in my car to drive to the meeting, and I was so incredibly nervous because 1) I was going alone 2) I found the group online. But I got to the meeting place in downtown Denver at a pub, ordered a tea, and said timidly and shakily, “bonsoir” to a couple strangers I overheard speaking French. With giant smiles, they responded, “bonsoir! viens! assieds-toi”. With a sigh of relief, I felt welcomed and sat down at the table for a couple hours of strictly French conversation. It was really great to speak it again, and we talked about a range of things, from Greece to the weather, but mostly it was nice to be able to share our experiences from the Francophone world. I was worried that the group would not be very advanced, which was true about a couple of them, but there were also people who majored in the language, a guy from Morocco and France, a guy who studied abroad there (and taught me a curse word I had never heard of), and there was even another girl who was an English assistant in France! At the end of the night, I was so pumped up and energized from all the French speaking, but on top of that, as soon as I walked out the door, I checked my messages only to hear that I had been offered a job. It was just a really happy moment knowing that I was going to have a really fun job (and money coming soon) and a group with whom I can try to ensure that I don’t lose my French. Great great GREAT first week in Denver. And just so you know, Denver is a really amazing city that I can’t wait to explore further.

That’s the city, and yes, those are the Rocky Mountains in the background. Isn’t it breathtaking?!

Bonna-road trip

I’m sitting at my best friend and her husband’s house in Arvada, Colorado right now and just in disbelief that I actually live here now. I’ve visited several times, and it’s just so strange to live somewhere that you have visited—you keep wondering when I have to leave. But nope, I’m not on vacation and I’m not leaving this time. So, I’m getting down to business and trying to find a job and figure out what’s next.

Ok enough about that, let’s get to the story of my road trip:

You know that I was living at my parents’ house the last three weeks in Virginia. I had no friends there, and spent most of my time inside, so the idea of having a road trip adventure with my brother was just what I needed. Last Wednesday morning, my brother, CB, and I headed out for our road trip to Colorado, with a stop along the way in Tennessee for a music festival. We left at 9 in the morning, and since it was so early, we went a little crazy with the coffee. I had two cups before I left, and after which, my mom proceeded to fill up a giant thermos AND a to-go mug for me. Oh, and she filled it up with a Keurig single-cup coffee brewer, so it was like she was working on an assembly line—one cup after the next into the thermos. After the eighth K-cup, I eventually had to tell her to stop. And that’s saying something, coming from me– a complete coffee-holic.

Anyway, the drive was quite lovely, and we made it to Franklin, TN in really good time with minimal stops–just for bathroom breaks and tiny bite to eat. My aunt’s house in Franklin is where I stopped on my last cross-country trip. Unfortunately she and her family weren’t there, but our other cousin, Zach, from California was there because he was working for the summer. By the time CB and I arrived at the house, Zach greeted us and the three of us went to dinner. Since we were in the South, we decided a Bar-B-Que place would be the perfect place for dinner. It was absolutely delicious, but I looked at a table across from us, and a guy was eating FRIED corn on the cob. I was absolutely horrified. I couldn’t believe the amount of things people fry here in America—especially in the South.It’s just soooo American–not that that’s bad, but I think I’m still re-acclimating to American culture, and some things still surprise me. After a few minutes of utter shock, I just accepted it, and continued to eat my delicious BBQ sandwich and cheesy potato casserole and practiced my southern drawl.

Later that night, CB and I drove the 40 minutes to Manchester, TN, where the festival was being held. We thought it was going to be a quick ride and we’d be in our campsite in no time, but instead we had to wait in lines with hundreds of other cars for a couple hours on the freeway. I can’t imagine what the traffic would have been like the next morning. I’m really glad we went that night even though we were exhausted, because we got a really great camping spot, and we were only about a five-minute walk from the center of the festival. You could even hear the musicians warming up in the mornings, which was rather special. Around 3am Wednesday night, we finally got our tent set up, made friends with our neighbors (who we hung out with all weekend) and walked around to see this glorious tent city. It was honestly a dream-like place with all the lights, the people walking around with a drink in their hand, a smile on their face, and cars blasting music while they set up their camps.

We eventually made it to bed around 4am, only to wake up at 8 because it was just so hot and sleeping in was impossible. I was not a happy camper in the most literal sense of the word. After driving close to 14 hours the day before and with barely 4 hours of sleep, I was the most grumpy. But after a few minutes being at Bonnaroo, you can’t HELP but be happy. Everyone is so excited, there are half-naked people everywhere, and even at 8 in the morning, you can see hundreds of people popping open a can of beer. (Obviously the American brews like Coors light, Bud light, and PBR). I have never seen so much non-ironic American spirit or  American flags in one place in my life. I think the crowds even chanted “USA” on several occasions. I soon realized that THIS was the true heart America—the South, that is. Being from California, then living in France, it was quite a change to see all this American and Southern pride, but observing it was one of the most interesting things I’ve ever experienced. I felt like a foreigner in my own country. Even though I have jokingly insisted that I hate the South my entire life, I think it was really important that I went and learned and truly experienced the life and people of the South. I believe that everyone should travel and see parts of the country that you may dislike and not just think it’s only advantageous to travel abroad. It can really show you how different even your fellow Americans can be from yourself. And I firmly believe that experiencing anything different from what you are used to is profitable, even if you don’t necessarily enjoy it. But we enjoyed Bonnaroo and the South. This is us doing possibly the most American thing possible: drinking a beer while sitting in a fold-up chair at your campsite.

Moving on to the music part: it was all SO incredible. Some of my favorites were the Avett Brothers, City and Colour, Ludacris, Skrillex, Radiohead, Santigold and the Red Hot Chili Peppers. The crowd at Avett Brothers was absolutely amazing and full of love, and everyone was singing alone and swaying. Here’s a video of the performance—it barely shows how inspiring it was, but use your imagination.

City and Colour was great because they played on the last day and everyone was exhausted, so most of the audience was just laying down peacefully on the grass and singing along. It was a nice change of pace from the exhausting weekend-long dancing and jumping. Ludacris’ show was so unexpected, simply because he played old stuff and new stuff. At one point, he started playing Glamorous, and EVERYONE started singing G-L-A-M-O-R-OUS with the biggest grins on their faces. Skrillex played at 2 in the morning, and my brother, who really enjoys electronic music dragged me to the show, and I’m glad he did! The crowd, even after a day of drinking and concerts still had so much energy. During Skrillex’s show, it started raining, which just riled up the crowd even more. Then, every time the music dropped, there would be a shower of glow sticks. Seriously, thousands of glow sticks would be thrown into the air—it was like it was the sky was full of rainbows—truly something you don’t see every day. Radiohead was just magical and almost spiritual with Thom Yorke’s soothing voice and the amazing light show. Santigold was so groovy. I’m sorry to use such an old word, but I think it suits the situation. She had dancers on the stage, and they were getting DOWN. She even invited hundreds of people from the crowd onto the stage to dance with her. Lastly, the Red Hot Chili Peppers were the crowd-pleasers. Everyone was jumping and singing along without a single care in the world throughout the whole set. Speaking of the Pepps, I would just like to share a little RHCP miracle with you all.

Like I said, CB and I spent the whole weekend with our campsite neighbors. The group of  the eight of us stayed at the main stage on Saturday night from Santigold, to the Roots, so that we would have a good spot for RHCP, which we did. We were practically at the front. The only problem was, after three hours of concerts, I had to go to the bathroom right before the Peppers went on, and so did one of the other girls in our group. Leaving our spot would be hard, but getting back would be even harder with the THOUSANDS of people standing behind us. It took at least fifteen minutes to push through the crowds and get to the bathroom (well, porta-potties), but the lines were so long that we ended up having to go all the way back to our campsite. We quickly ran back, but getting back again through the crowd proved to be an impossible feat as people had pushed even more to the front and were a lot more crowded than when we left. It was then that we realized that even people at Bonnaroo can be jerks. The whole weekend people were kind, and every time someone did something rude, someone else would scream out, “that’s SO not Bonnaroo!” as if Bonnaroo were synonymous with a generally good spirit. But going through the crowd, we heard so many people tell us to “chill” and tried to stop us from getting back to our friends. But, we pushed on, and sometimes we literally had to jump over people, and I’m sure I stepped on at least ten people. (I see now that we were rather rude for trying to get up to the very front of thousands and thousands of people). But when we finally made it back to our friends, we all screamed and cheered and celebrated our seemingly impossible accomplishment! Then we enjoyed the RHCP concert together in a spirit of musical joy and happily grooved to the tunes.

After four days of constant musical stimulation, lots of walking, the deadly heat, no showers, and food truck meals, CB and I left the concert just beat on Sunday evening and drove back to our aunt’s house in Franklin. We spent the next day sleeping and showering and simply trying to feel like normal people again. Later that day, our aunt, uncle and cousins came back from their vacation at Disneyworld in Florida and we all went to dinner at Five Guys, which is a popular burger joint (in places where In-N-Out doesn’t exist). There was this sign in the restaurant, so CB and I took a picture of it, seeing as we ARE Bergers.

The next morning, CB and I headed out for a LONG day of driving: Tennessee to Arvada, Colorado. It took us 8 hours to get to Wichita, Kansas, which is where we stopped for a couple hours to visit one of CB’s friends from school and had dinner (I had Mexican food for the first time since being back in the States), and then after that we had another 12 hours to go. I did most of the driving, as driving a stick-shift gave my brother a little anxiety. So he was stuck as navigator and DJ. I got quite an education on electronic music. Did you know there is more than just dubstep? There is also house and trance, and I discovered that I quite enjoy it. But just to make sure that we had a good mix of music going, we also listened to Disney music like the soundtrack from Tarzan, Led Zeppelin, Stevie Wonder, and pop-punk that we listened to in Jr High. There was one point in the drive–I believe that it was somewhere in Kansas–we were in the open country and it was just such beautiful weather, that CB and I blasted the music, rolled the windows down, and just took in the back roads of America. It was a great moment.

Finally, at 4:30 in the morning, slightly delusional, CB and I pulled up to Kim and Riley’s house. I jumped out of the car and ran as fast as I could without falling down to my best friend. We hadn’t seen each other in 9 months, so even though it was 4:30am, we stayed up til 6 just talking. We DID have a lot of catching up to do, as I just got back from France and she is now 8 months pregnant. We finally convinced ourselves that sleep would be good for both of us and we headed to bed. Exhausted, I slept soundly back in the company of my best friends.

And now I’m settling into my new home (living with Kim and Riley until their little princess comes) and trying to find a job. I’m beginning to adjust back to life in the States, and while I still miss France a lot, it’s nice to be back with my friends and not have to be 9 hours ahead of them. I know that every time I see a picture of the Eiffel tower, watch a show that takes place in Paris, or someone says something referring to France, I’m going to get nostalgic and miss it, but that’s how life goes–we move on and do different things. I am just so grateful for the friends I made and the things I learned, and I’ll look back with fondness. I am just going to try to concentrate on my time here in Colorado and enjoy the adventure here in the Midwest—somewhere I never thought I’d be!

reflections on three weeks at home

Well, naturally, all the hopes and dreams I had planned for myself while I was at home did not come to fruition. I made an effort to start my French paper, take a French placement test, and study for the GRE, but alas, I really didn’t do any of it. (I’m using the excuse that I was sick and depressed/culture-shocked.)  I can already feel my French flying at the speed of light out of my brain, and it pains me to know how much I am going to lose in these next couple months by not speaking it daily. It’s like slowly watching everything you’ve worked so hard for disintegrating in front of you, no matter what you do to try to keep hold of it. It was bound to happen, though. I’m not in France anymore, so I’m not in the most advantageous environment to keep up my French. Oh well. There are worse things in life!

As far as home productivity goes, basically all I’ve done is try to get over my post-France depression and keep my mind busy. Granted, I’ve watched my share of FoodNetwork programs, 16 and pregnant, and even an odd episode of Keeping up with the Kardashians, but I’ve also been reading classic literature (both in French and English), so it makes up for the trashy tv, right? The best part about being home is spending quality time with my family. For instance, my dad let me drive his Porsche the other day–it was exhilarating to drive with the top down and the wind in my hair, even though the speed limit was only about 30 mph. And since I’m unemployed, I’ve been able to just hang out with my mom and brothers, which has been really great, and it’s fascinating to see how much my brothers have changed just in the past few months. I’m especially excited to road trip with my brother, CB, to Tennessee for a music festival called Bonnaroo and then continue on to Colorado. We’ll be just like Jim Carrey and Jeff Daniels in Dumb and Dumber….driving from the east coast to Colorado with lots of adventures and funny stories along the way.

Tomorrow is the big day. Bruce (my car) is packed and ready to go. I am so grateful that I don’t have to do this road trip alone, like I did last time (even though I think everyone should do a long solo drive at least once in their life because it truly is a wonderful experience). Surprisingly, my car isn’t that full. And I like that. I like the idea that I can pick up and move at any moment. My brother made a good point to me the other day. He said for as long as he could remember, I have always been “leaving”. I was never fully there; I was always looking for the next big adventure and went on to do it. I don’t think I’ll always be that way, never putting my roots down. But for the moment, I think I’m happy with that description because this little characteristic of mine has led me on to do a lot of incredible things.

I’ll leave this post with a video from one of the artists I’m going to see at Bonnaroo. I listen to Bon Iver constantly–ask any of my friends–and I cannot WAIT to see them live.

Stateside.

Alright. I’ve been back in the States for almost three weeks, and I’m finally not so depressed about not being in France that I think I can write about it now. But I suppose I should start with my trip to Dublin/Galway from the beginning of May.

Instead of spending the night at the airport for my early flight, like I did for my trip to Madrid, I decided it would be smarter to get a hostel in Paris and take the shuttle early in the morning. However, I really think I should have spent the night there anyway, as going to Paris ended up costing me about 50 extra euros and I didn’t even get that much sleep. Here’s why: a girl came into my hostel room at 1 in the morning, and decided to turn on the lights and rearrange her entire suitcase. When she finally got in bed around 2, she started snoring. It was like a big joke. So, when I woke up at 4:30, I was not in a good mood, so I just found the nearest Metro. Unfortunately, the line I needed to take was closed that day, but I didn’t have my coffee yet, so I made some bad decisions, like taking a bunch of roundabout ways, with the RER, taking this line and that, and finally,  out of desperation and stress, I called Jessica, who told me to just hail a taxi, otherwise, I would miss my bus to the airport, therefore missing my flight to Dublin. I figured she was right, even though I was sure I wouldn’t find a cab in time. Fortunately, I picked one up right away and screamed at the driver that I was late for the bus and told him to get me to Porte Maillot asap. He didn’t even acknowledge me–not even a polite grunt. I kept asking him if he heard me and was totally desperado, and at 5:30 in the morning, I’m sure he was not happy he picked me up. But, luckily, he got me to the bus in time.

So, the flight was good…I tried sleeping, but had no luck. When I got to Dublin, I took the bus into town, walked around a bit, but it was raining and windy, so I ended up spending a few hours in a coffee shop reading while I waited for Justine’s flight to come in. I picked her up at the airport (and by that I mean, I took the bus back to the airport and met up with her), and we took another bus straight to Galway. We arrived pretty late at night, and naturally slept the whole 3 hours, but we still decided that it was obligatory that we get some fish and chips and a Guinness. I mean, we WERE in Ireland. However, Justine got a Coors Light. Since she’s not American, I didn’t give here a hard time. Also, at dinner, we overheard a couple next to us speaking French, and I asked if I could borrow their ketchup. I know this seems insignificant now, but it will make sense toward the end of my story.

The next day, we took a day tour, where we saw a lot more of the Irish countryside, and even got to see the Cliffs of Moher (where they filmed a scene from Harry Potter and the Cliffs of Insanity from Princess Bride–which are only two of my absolute favorite movies, so I was super excited!) Unfortunately, most of my pictures from the day tour turned out badly, but here are a couple of them…

Look! The tour guide took us to a fairy circle! So I pranced around like one.

In Galway:

Then, that night, we went out again, and discovered that the Irish truly are the most friendly people ever! Justine and I made some friends that we hung out with all night and showered us with Jameson and cokes and Guinnesses–very much the Irish staples. The next morning, we woke up, and saw some more of the city, got some candy, then took the bus back to Dublin, where we pretty much crashed immediately in our hostel. The next couple days were spent sight-seeing and checking out all the local Temple Bar pubs. We took a walking tour the first day, which turned out to be like five hours long, which was a bit much, but at least I learned a ton about Irish history. Here’s the part of the story I promised that would make the insignificant story more interesting: one of the nights that we went out, we were walking along the street and ran into those very same people we saw in Galway who were speaking French! What a small world. They ended up being from Lausanne, Switzerland, which is where I had spent some time several years ago, so I ended up talking to them in French about how beautiful Switzerland is. It was lovely.

Then, Friday morning, Justine had her flight back, which meant that I had the whole day to figure out what to do alone. I figured my best bet was to go to a museum, then to the Guinness storehouse. At the museum, I ended up talking for about 20 minutes with one of the museum workers who was about 60 about Irish history, his trip to the US, and books he thinks I should read. It was really interesting and enlightening. So, after my head was full of new information, I walked over to the storehouse, where I found out that you get a free pint at the top of the storehouse, which gives you a 360 degree view of the city. That sounds awesome, but I quickly realized that I would have to drink it alone. Thankfully, at the storehouse, I ran into a couple people that I had met the night before on a pub crawl, so I didn’t end up having to drink alone! Let me just tell you that the Guinness from the storehouse was possibly one of the most refreshing things I have ever tasted. It was incredible, and makes me mad that it doesn’t taste that good back in the states. Anyway, after we finished our delectable pint, the three of us (me, a girl from New York and a guy from New Zealand) went to the original Temple Bar where we had some good conversation about our lives, our plans, the food network and had another Guinness. I mean, why not? YOLO. (for all you that don’t know what that means, it’s “you only live once”. it’s my new favorite phrase, just because it’s just so darn awful.) Anyway, I did some shopping and walked around a bit and headed to bed early because my flight was at 6:30am the next day. When I took the bus around 5am, it was kind of entertaining to see all the people who were still out, just walking around drunkenly on the street. Here’s a few pics of Dublin…

I got back to Paris that morning, and out of cash, I tried going to two different ATM’s, both telling me I had no money. So, I ran around panicked trying to find my bank, that finally told me that I did, in fact, have money in my account. At first I was relieved, but then I got angry, wondering why on earth would a bank do that to me?! Oh, France. Everything is just a little more complicated. Anyway, the rest of the day, I hung out in a Starbucks, making good progress on my French book, trying to escape the horrible weather. At one point that night, it was raining so hard that I ended up finding refuge in a metro station. Apparently  everyone else had the same idea, so there were hundreds of people, crowded into a tiny metro station in St. Michel, while a group of street performers played covers of popular music. It was a really amazing experience, just seeing all these different people singing and dancing and having a ball with all these strangers around. Afterward, I went to have dinner with a friend at a restaurant that was right on the Seine river. Yeah, like two steps away. Amazing, right? Now that I’m looking back on that, I still can’t believe how lucky I was! It was truly a dream….and I miss it already. When I took the train back to Chauny, I was just crying and crying, knowing that my time there was coming to a close and not knowing when I’d be back in Paris–the city I had just fallen so much in love with and had so many incredible experiences in–or when I’d see my friends again.

I came back to Chauny, packed my incredibly heavy suitcases, and left with Jessica for the train station almost immediately after. Lugging our suitcases the 25 minutes to the train station was incredibly difficult, and I was so lucky to see that a coworker was driving along the road and saw how much we were struggling. Imagine this: I had two backpacks on, a giant suitcase and carry-on and at least two other tote bags. It was such a sad sight. But thankfully, we made it to St. Quentin and we met up with the other assistants at the school where we were going to live for the week. The reason that Jessica and I were going to St. Quentin was for a week-long summer camp where we would be teaching English to high school and middle school kids by directing them in a scene from an English-speaking movie. To sum up the week, it was stressful, being with the kids from 8am to almost 6pm straight, so we spent the evenings relaxing with a movie, music, and usually a glass of wine. One night, we even went to Karaoke, where the group of us assistants sang a really horrible rendition of Adele’s Someone Like You. And it was awful. Really really bad. But, by the end of the week, it was really rewarding to see how much progress our kids had made, and see them perform for a group of a hundred people in English.

Here are my precious kids. Naturally, my scene was from Harry Potter

And the wonderful assistants, who were all a little insane by the end of it all

So, for the last weekend I was there, Jess and Juju and I just hung out and acted crazy, trying to really take advantage of our last moments together. We even went to a costume party with some Jean-Macé colleagues, which was really fun, except for the part where we had to say goodbye. Here are a couple picture of how crazy Jessica and Juju are, but I love them even more for it, and I miss them both.

That Monday morning, we all woke up early and headed to the train station. I was going to the airport, Jessica to Lille and eventually to England, and Juju took us there to see us off. Needless to say, it was an emotional time. So I got to the US, went through customs, my mom picked me up and drove me to their house in Virginia.

That brings me to May 14th. I’ve been back in Virginia since then. I haven’t really done too much, though…just moped around the house for the first week with a fever and no energy. I just thought it was because I was depressed, which I was, but my mom eventually forced me to go to the emergency room, where I found out that I had a kidney infection, so I had to stay in the hospital for two nights, which just made my stay at home even more depressing. After I had recovered a little bit, I took the bus up to Philadelphia to see Jessica, because a week was too long to go without seeing each other. We baked, watched tv, and just acted like crazy people. Sounds about normal for us. I also managed to get into the city (Washington, DC) the other day with my brother, and we checked out the National Art Gallery. We had such a blast, and even got some good Spanish food. We had a great day together, and it just made me excited to go to Bonnaroo and drive out to Colorado with him.

And now, here I am, sitting on my parents’ couch in the living room watching Hancock (yeah, that movie with Will Smith that everyone hated) and thinking about how blessed I’ve been this last year. I can’t wait to go back, hopefully I will go soon, but one never knows. For the moment, I’m just focusing on my next adventure: Denver. I’m moving out there on June 13th to live with my best friends, enjoy myself, and hopefully find a job. And you know what they say, Denver IS the Paris of the midwest!

Here is my April update

My mom came to visit for the first week of April, and we had a blast, to say the least. I went to the airport to pick her up on the first, and we went straight into Paris. Instead of relaxing or letting her recover from jet lag, we went out walking. Started out around the Luxembourg Gardens, all the way to the Louvre, to the Concord, to the Champs-Elysee, where we stopped for some macarons, then to the Arc de Triomphe. If you know Paris, it’s a long walk. But it was Mom’s first day in Paris (and first day in Europe, so naturally, we had to take advantage of it!)

And the walking and touristic stuff didn’t stop there. The whole week, we exhausted ourselves, and our feet were bloody stumps by the end. Anyway, that night, Mom and I decided to grab dinner at the cafe right by our hotel. Instead of a quick dinner, it turned into quite a night, where we made friends with an old English couple, with whom we ended up sharing a couple rounds of Kir Royales.That Monday, we woke up very early to catch the train to Chauny, so my mom could see where I live, and I could go to my classes. After class, we went to a city that is not too far from Chauny called Compiègne (which was nice for me, because I had never been there), which is the last place Joan of Arc took communion before being killed. This is part of the gardens of the chateau there. That chateau was inhabited by Napoleon. (in case you haven’t wondered, I like name-dropping) The nature looks pretty dead, but it’s more green than it’s been since I’ve been here, so that was refreshing!

The next day, we headed back to Paris where we walked some more! We headed to the Notre Dame and the Luxembourg Gardens some more. We even took a boat tour along the Seine, which is super touristy, but also super fun, and relaxing for the feet.

Then we hit up the Eiffel tower (didn’t go up, due to the insane lines), got some DELICIOUS dinner, and went back to the tower later to watch it sparkle. And….cue fake smile and pose, but the background makes up for it!

The next day, we went to Reims (pronounced Rance), where we did champagne tasting! It was really perfect…walking through the underground tunnels where they keep the champagne bottles and learning all about how they make it, then, obviously the best part: tasting the bubbly!

And of course, the old churches and Cathedral of Reims were remarkable! Fun factoid: Victor Hugo found the people who were the inspiration for Esmarelda and Quasimodo in Reims! Also, Clovis was baptized right outside this church. History nerds, like me, would love that.

And here is the most beautiful cathedral in all of France (for larger picture, look at my post from first trip to Reims)

The next day was dedicated to art museums. Well, just two, but that’s a lot when it’s the Louvre and the Musée d’Orsay! In between museums, I left Mom to finish what she could of the Louvre, while I took the metro to another part of town to talk to people at NYU Paris about their program for teaching French as a foreign language. It turned out to be a meeting where the woman was just testing my French skills (intermediate advanced, if you were wondering) and her telling me I really should keep living in France because I’m going to lose a lot of what I’ve learned and I need to find a way to keep practicing. I decided that the meeting was half inspiring and half disheartening. But, here’s Mom and I in line for the Louvre!

The picture below was taken illegally. Oops. Sorry, Orsay Museum!

The next day, we went to the Pantheon (I hadn’t seen it before), which was really beautiful, and I got to see the crypts where they buried influential French writers and thinkers, like Voltaire and Rousseau. Really really great and so impressive to see where the men you have studied are resting at peace, if you will.

Then we went to Montmartre and we saw the Sacre Coeur, met up with some friends from home and had a drink at the Place du Tertre, ate some crepes, and even visited the Montmartre museum (first time for that too, and it was enlightening! Many famous writers and artists lived where the museum is now, and the swing in the yard is the very same swing from Renoir’s painting “the Swing”, so I sat on it)

Friends above, Mom and I below—just living the dream!

The next day–Versailles! Unfortunately it was really really crowded, which slightly lessened the impressiveness of it, but it was still absolutely incredible. Mom so smiley in the Hall of Mirrors makes me so happy to share it with her.

Then, that night, Mom and I shared one of the most amazing meals I had ever had at a really typically Parisian restaurant, with a piano and everything. It was a perfect send-off. The next morning was Mom’s last day and also Easter, and we spent our few remaining hours drinking coffee at cafés. For me, the best part of Paris is people watching, eating at restaurants, and drinking coffee. I’m really going to miss the royal treatment that comes with your parent coming to visit. After she left, I knew I would be going back to my teaching assistant-appropriate meals, so naturally, I enjoyed it while I could.

Also, another great part of Paris in April are the flowers!! They are so refreshing, and JUST what you need after MONTHS of nothing but cold and gray.

 

OK. That was just the first week. I got back from the most magical week and came back for classes in Chauny, which seemed to pass by so quickly because I spent the whole week in class and resting. Before I knew it, it was the weekend again, and I was going back to Paris! I went on Friday night with a couple other girls for our very own “nuit blanche”, or all-nighter. We went out during the night and took the first train home in the morning. I finally got back to my bed in Chauny at 9:30am and crashed. I think that might have been the last all-nighter I can do. I’m getting old. But at least we came back with some good stories, like how a guy on the train kept trying to talk to us while we were sleeping and my friend said her name was “je dors”, meaning, I’m sleeping. The next day I woke up around 3pm, only to get ready for another late night, as it was a coworker’s birthday party. It was really fun, and it’s nice to be able to talk to my fun colleagues outside of class, although, not so nice when they single me out and ask if I’ve found a French boyfriend yet. Anyway, I’m really going to miss the French parties, where people just sit around, eat, talk, joke, and drink naught but Champagne. That night, I slept over at my friend, Justine’s apartment. Needless to say, we slept in, but when we awoke, we had an impromptu dance party. Yes, just the two of us. Yes, for at least 20 minutes. Then, we finished our plans for our trip to Dublin over the holidays!!

Then, Monday again–my last Monday at Jean-Macé. Since the beginning of April, I felt like such a weekend warrior, and felt like I barely spent any time in the classroom with both my body and mind invested in Chauny and not day-dreaming about Paris, so I tried to make a point to soak in the next few days with colleagues and the students. It passed by so quickly, naturally. And the last classes I normally had were pretty anti-climactic, as the kids said, “au revoir” like they always did after every class. I thought it was good for me though, because I’m really terrible and awkward at good-byes. However, on the last day, Friday, I gave a presentation on California for one of Justine’s classes, but she told me to come to the Professor’s lounge for lunch with a couple other people. I showed up, and there were at least 20 people in there! It was incredible, and they even had a bag of gifts to shower me with, which was so moving. I tried to read the card first, but I started to cry, so I had to put it away. I was just so overwhelmed, and it was one of the best moments in my life. I just couldn’t believe that it was all ending.

Jessica and I decided to celebrate finishing our seven-month contracts by, you guessed it, going to Paris. You’d think I’d be Paris-ed out by this point, but I think that’s impossible. We went to the city specifically to see the Hunger Games, because they only show English version films in Paris, and I don’t like dubbed films here. Verdict: the movie was really really great. And yes, I read the book beforehand. That night, I went to dinner with a friend, and afterward, we biked around Paris. THAT was magical. I was screaming the entire time, just of pure joy. Seeing the lights, the Eiffel tower, the night-life, the Seine, everything. It was amazing, and something I won’t soon forget.

And now, here we are. All caught up. And I’ll have a lot to write about in the next three weeks: this last week in Chauny, Dublin, then a week in St Quentin doing a week-long English film camp. I have 21 days left. I can’t believe it! It went so fast, but I am so happy with everything I’ve done. It’s been quite an experience, but life will not end after this. I have a great summer to look forward to! Two weeks at home with my parents, Bonnaroo with my brother in Tennessee, then driving to Colorado to see my best friends to live!

Coming to a close.

Well, not quite yet. But I bought my ticket home a couple weeks ago, which signaled the looming end of my year-long adventure in France.

That’s so weird to say. I’ve been waiting for this and working for this one thing for years–to live abroad– and now it’s almost over. I never believed that the end would, in fact, arrive. I know that sounds like such an obvious overlook, but when all you think about for years is just getting there, the getting back doesn’t really cross your mind, that your supposed “dream” would eventually have to end. Never envision a dream that only lasts a definite amount of time. It’s heart-breaking. Remember how you felt as a kid, going to a week-long summer camp, and how you feel on Friday, knowing you had to go home that night? Yeah. Picture that, but multiply it by like a thousand.

In a way, I feel lost, in the sense that the one thing I’ve been dreaming about for what seems like forever is ending.What’s next? Yes, I know I’ve talked about what I’m doing next, but now it’s imminent. It’s no longer a far off possibility, but it’s now. And that huge pile of all the things I need to do for the next step in my life just hit me, suddenly, like a ton of bricks. That paper that I talked about a month or two ago, yeah, it’s still not done, but I have started working on it. I’ve also got to take a French placement test, take the GRE, and then finally, work on my grad applications. I’ve been living in this dream-like false reality for so long, where all I had to worry about was how to converse in French and life is just peachy and romantic, but now the responsibilities of real-life are coming on fast and hard. It’s always been in the plans to only do a year of teaching abroad, but now I’m beginning to wish that that year could magically become an eternity without worrying about finances or the life and friends that I so incredibly miss.

The other day, Claude said something to the students which made my heart sink. The kids asked for my Facebook name and Claude responded that it was unnecessary, as we would never see each other again. The part that really hit me was when he said that we pass through each others’ lives, and we are important to each other at one moment, but then once the moment is over, we move on, and that’s how life goes. It’s an incredibly depressing thing for me to accept, as I would like to always hold on to the people I’ve come in contact with. Anyone I meet becomes engraved on me, and I carry them around. I still think about old friends that I don’t talk to, and it burdens me to think about how influential they were in my life and I suddenly feel a rush of guilt for not making an effort to keep in contact. I guess it would probably be healthier if I accepted Claude’s point of view, and letting go would liberate me and allow me to live each day to the fullest, as opposed to thinking about the past and trying to keep those relationships and memories alive, which may not even be good for who I am today. But I think that with technology, it’s kind of a sign that we can and should stay in touch with certain people, right? And that one moment of importance can last a lot longer than just that moment.

I know that I have changed a lot this year, and I can still change even more until May 14th, when I get on my plane headed to D.C. So, until then, I’m going to make the most of it, starting with my mom’s visit next week, where we will spend a majority of the time in my favorite city: you guessed it, Paris!

PS. I guess now would be a good time to officially announce that I’m moving to Colorado in June. I’m so excited!! And it will be healthy, I think, to start a whole new adventure instead of going back to the same place. I’d feel a little too much like Frodo Baggins at the end of Lord of the Rings. Colorado, Denver area to be more precise, is my Gray Havens. Too nerdy? Eh.  Don’t care.

Basque-ing in the beauty.

Alright, this is the blog post where I tell you about the second half of my trip! I took a train from Madrid at 8am (you’re as surprised as I am! I didn’t think I would wake up in time either, but I did!) and traveled all day until I arrived in Bayonne, France at around 4pm, where my friend and colleague, Justine, was waiting for me! The first order of business was taking me to the beach, which I hadn’t seen in months…I can’t even remember the last time I smelled the salty, fresh, and wet air. It was amazing. I couldn’t stop sniffing. I’m sure I looked like an idiot, but I didn’t care.

That whole week, Justine hosted me at her family’s house, fed me, and took me all around the Basque country, which is a part of south-west France and northern Spain with it’s own culture and language. It was really interesting and beautiful and sunny, even though it was still coat weather. This part of France is completely unlike the north of France. The architecture, the rolling hills and mountains, the windy roads, the ocean air, the signs in both French and Basque…So wonderfully different. It’s quite a tourist destination during the summer, so I got to see it before all the people came for the summer holidays. (Johnny Depp even has a house in this region, I was really hoping to run into him, but it didn’t happen).

My French got really good that week, as I met lots of Justine’s friends, spoke with her family, and even listened to a LOT of classic French vinyls. I really enjoyed being down in the south, and I did NOT want to go back to Picardie after experiencing such a refreshing part of France, especially knowing that going back to Picardie meant that vacation was over and school was going to start that monday. But, I got on the train home anyway and took it for six hours to Paris, then a train from Paris to St Quentin, then another train to Chauny.

By the time I got home I was EXHAUSTED. You couldn’t pay me to do any more traveling. Well, for the first few hours. But after a night’s sleep, I could probably do it all over again. My advice to you: don’t EVER travel unless you’re willing to accept the fact that your life will never be the same and you’ll always have the itch to discover and explore places you’ve never seen or possibly even heard of. It’s a blessing and a curse–a wonderful blessing to have the exhilaration of traveling to new places and getting outside your comfort zone, but a dreadful curse to know how big the world is and how you probably won’t ever get to see it all.

Enough of that, here are some pictures…

Madrid about you.

It’s very hard to limit the amount of pictures to put up here, because I’ve found that Madrid was extraordinarily photogenic. So, I will just give a recap of my weekend in Spain and then all the photos–it’s like I’m writing thousands and thousands of words (the whole, a picture is worth a thousand words) but you have to read less!

–I ate A LOT. Tapas, tinto verano (summer wine that is half sparkling lemon juice and half wine), and cocktails.

–I went out A LOT. Clubs, which I think are much more fun than the ones in the States….although, and one of them, they played Adele and Edward Sharpe, which really brought everyone down.

–I walked A LOT. The city is huge, and I saw a lot of it. Mostly by feet. The Prado, the Royal Palace, Gran Via, Puerto del Sol, Plaza Mayor, the park, the flea market, etc…Don’t judge me, but on the last day, I was so tired that Alberto and I went to the theater and I saw an American movie with Spanish subtitles.

–I made new friends. Some were Spanish and were really really fun to hang out with and they showed me the true Madrid–be it cool bars, clubs, good food–stuff you would not know to do unless you had an insider’s help. Some of my new friends were random people from all over that I met at the hostel. One of the most fun things about being alone at the hostel is that you make friends there so easily and people are much more willing to talk to you, and you to them. My favorite hostel friends were some guys from the north of France, who I got to practice my French with–surprisingly spoke more French when I wasn’t with Alberto than English–and I impressed them with my knowledge of northern slang. I also got to know my roommate my last night there, who was from Poland and we hung out and had a beer.

And voilà…les photos. These are not in any particular order, btw, it’s just to give you a glimpse of some of the things I saw in the beautiful city of Madrid

On the second day, we went to a city called Segovia, which is about an hour away, but so worth the trip. It had a Roman aquaduct, a castle, and a cathedral! oh my.

Needless to say, Madrid wore me out, but it was absolutely lovely. One thing that kept me going: you don’t know when/if you’ll be back, so fight the exhaustion and get ready for an adventure!

forget friends in high places, I have friends in far places.

Ok. I think I must start this post by saying: the Beauvais airport closes every night from 11 to 6:30am. Yes. You heard me. However, I did not realize this until coming back from the McDonald’s. So, I set up camp right by the airport doors, ready for seven hours of waiting. I started with reading my Harry Potter, then I moved on journaling, and then looked at my watch, and it was only 12:30. Luckily, a a few minutes later, a couple from Italy came up to me and spoke to me in broken French/Italian/Spanish to tell me something about how they needed a taxi. I’m still unsure what they were saying, but at least it kept me occupied for about an hour until they left. Then, at about 2:30, a taxi pulled up, dropping off a couple guys (who I overheard speaking English) with giant bags. Being as bored as I was, I figured I should probably go to talk to the people who had the same bright idea as me to sleep at the airport. I offered them some trail mix and a movie with me. Unfortunately, the only English movie I had on my computer was Pride and Prejudice. So yes, I watched Pride and Prejudice with two giant Irish professional rugby players. At least it passed the time. I think I should also mention that it was absolutely freezing at 5am in Beauvais. They guys and I hung out in the airport as soon as it opened, walked through security together, then parted ways at our gates at 9am: me to Madrid, and them, to Dublin.

Just to make sure I was in the right line, I asked a couple people ahead of me if this was the line for Madrid. And, within seconds of having left my old friends, I had new ones: a French guy and a German guy. I think I just liked them because they thought I was French at first. We spent the whole flight talking in a mix of Spanish, French, and English. I’ll admit, I was regretting talking to them because I still hadn’t slept, and I was planning on sleeping on the plane. At least I got to talk to practice my French conversation and I even got an offer to stay in Corsica with the French guy’s family.

The three of us got off the plane and walked through the terminal of Madrid together until we met Alberto in the terminal’s metro station where I said goodbye to my plane friends and said hello to my friend I met in Switzerland six years ago and saw in Barcelona two years ago. I told Alberto that it’s a new tradition that I have to see him every time I’m in Europe. It’s so great to have friends all over the world. He took me to my hostel, all the while telling me all the plans he had for our weekend together. I was really excited to be there, but at the same time, all I could think was how much I wanted to take a siesta. I didn’t even have time to change or wash my face though, because Alberto had a work meeting (he started a business called “We are Knitters”, and had to unpack boxes). So, I went with him because he had plans to take me on a tour around the city afterward. For lunch, we stopped at this little terrace in the sun (yes, it’s sunny here, and I’m sooooo happy) and enjoyed the most amazing food I’ve ever had. My mouth was ecstatic. We also had this wine/sangria thing that was half wine and half fizzy lemonade. I was wearing sunglasses, getting a little sunburned and drinking the most refreshing beverage ever. It felt like summer, which is what I had been craving for months. After lunch, we walked around for a few hours. My feet were killing me, and my eyes were so tired, but I didn’t have the heart to tell Alberto I wanted to call the day quits, and I was just having so much fun.

He had another meeting for an hour, so I stopped to have a coffee on a sidewalk cafe. It’s funny because for a trip that was supposed to be my “big adventure on my own”, I hadn’t spent a minute alone for over 15 hours. After Alberto’s meeting, we walked around more, and I mustered all the energy I could. At sunset, he suggested we stop for a drink a this rooftop restaurant in the center of the gay district, and it was very easy to agree. We had some wine, then his friend from Brazil showed up, and we talked and laughed for a while before moving on to another place to have some dinner. Mind you, by now it’s about 10pm, and all I wanted was to spend the night with my pillow and three other strangers (don’t worry mom, I’m talking about the three other people in my hostel room), but, I gathered the strength to have dinner with a couple more of Alberto’s friends. We had so much fun, and I think I learned some Spanish, but that could have been the wine fooling me. After that, we walked to a bar to have the most amazing gin and tonic I had ever had in my life. It had rose pedals and cucumber. Wow. I figured it was worth losing sleep for food and drinks this good. I had the most wonderful day in places I would have never thought to go into, just because I had a native giving me a tour and really introducing me to the great city. And like I said in the title of this entry, I’d rather have friends all over the globe who I can take me under their wing and show me the ins and outs of their city than friends in high places, who probably don’t know what they’re talking about and aren’t necessarily as generous.

After the gin and tonic, I finally got to go home. It was midnight, and as I arrived at my hostel, all the crazy young people around me tried to convince me to go out, as they were just beginning their night. I couldn’t do it. But I did stick around the common area and hang out for a while. I even made a few French friends who were impressed with my knowledge of Picardie phrases and slang. At 1:30, I finally got to shower and get in bed. It felt so sweet. I’m so glad I made it all day, otherwise I would have been sleeping and missed all these wonderful, random, and interesting encounters. What did we learn today, kids? Don’t ever chose sleep over experiencing something new.