It's all fun and games until somebody falls in love

Why haven't I written this year? Well, life, I suppose, has stepped in. Really, living in France this year is LIVING. It's going to the pharmacy and the bank and the post office, and actually understanding what people are saying to me. It doesn't seem so novel anymore and it's getting harder and harder to catch the cultural differences, and write about them, when you start becoming a member of the culture.

Also, there's the fact that my experience as an au pair, to a haughty, domineering, way-too-wealthy PARISIAN family was...nothing to write home about! So I did something crazy back in March - I quit my job in the middle of the year! And not only did I quit, I stayed in France. I found a job, another job, and an apartment (if you call 10 square meters an apartment).

This year has been different from last year: less travelling, less freedom, more cooking, more work. With one very important change: I fell in love. Hard.

And so I find myself suddenly preparing for year three in France, my new home town. When I first went to college, I wasn't really sure what was going on Freshman year. Everything was new, I was learning my way around Seattle and figuring out who I was and what I wanted to study. By Sophomore year I had more friends, more confidence on the road, and an idea about my major. Junior and Senior years were both a breeze; I was confident and felt right at home in Seattle. I loved where I was, who I was with, what I was doing. Well, right now, I'm at the end of my Sophomore year in France. I'm finally getting this culture, these people, this place. And, since I've lasted this long, I want to stay here until it feels as familiar and comfortable as a summer breeze on bare skin.

But did I mention that I love Seattle? That I miss people and places and activites and views that I'll never find in France, no matter how comfortable I get with baguette-ordering and metro-navigating. I absolutely, poitively cannot wait to come home! In exactly 7 weeks, thankyouverymuch. But the real reason I wanted to write today was to recount a very funny conversation I just had with a random stranger on the street...

There I was, walking home from the grocery store. I was thinking about the cherries I was about to devour and about the lasagna and chocolate mousse I would be making later tonight when, out of the blue, a large French man began asking me where he could find a covered tennis court in the neighborhood. Here is the delightful conversation we proceeded to have, in French.

"Covered?" I said. "I know one that's uncovered, just around the corner, but I don't think I've seen a covered court."
"I've been walking for ages." He explained, "And noone on this street knows of a covered court around here."
"Good luck!" I said, cheerfully, and turned to go.
"It's just that, I need to find this sports club in the area. People are waiting for me there." He pressed.
What does he expect me to say? I wondered to myself, smiling and nodding, and edging backwards.
"Well, ok, here's the thing...it was my birthday yesterday." He finally got out, rubbing his balding head.
"Happy birthday!" I exclaimed, smiling indulgently.
"Uhh, I'm 43." He admitted, sheepishly.
"I wouldn't have guessed it!" I added politely. (Wanting to look young is something French and American people have in common.)
"And, er, you see, I have this date tonight..." He looked flustered. "And, well...how would you say I look, you know, my...outfit?" He finally finished.
"Ohh, yes, you look really nice!" I encouraged. And, really, he did. He was overweight but with an open, friendly face and he had on a great suit.
"Oh, thank you." He smiled, "I wasn't so sure..."
"Well, good luck!" I said, "And happy birthday again!"
"Thank you, that's really nice of you to say." He said, then headed off to find this mystical indoor tennis court.

Now, I ask you, who wouldn't want to have that conversation in a foreign language?

Back to Provincal France

I love to see that picture of me and my mom in Hawaii. I need things like that for rainy, grey days in the city. But today is neither rainy nor grey - not yet anyway, so the picture just makes a nice day even better.

I went back to Angers last weekend, to spend Valentine's Day with Marjerie and Roxane. We went to the market I used to frequent last year, with Katrin or Vanessa. We drove to centre ville and tried to find the parking that was always impossible to find last year. We walked through those old, familiar streets, went into the small, familiar shops, and drank chocolat chaud in the cozy little chocolate shop on the corner.

Then we made homemade cheesecake with real (expensive!) cream cheese, imported from les Etats-Unis. It was quiet good, very sweet, but we managed to eat the whole cake! I saw these views again; things that I've missed more than I thought and was extraordinarily glad to see again. I'm realizing that Paris really isn't for me. I'm more of a Provincial girl; I love the small towns and the rolling countryside and especially the ocean. Luckily I'm going to visit Katrin soon in Bamberg, another small town but this time a German one

It's bound to happen sooner or later

I am currently reading Howard's End, by E.M. Forster, and I was so enthralled in page 136* that I nearly put Thai Red Curry Paste on my bread and butter rather than Raspberry Jam! That, I suppose, is the mark of a good book. Luckily, I looked up from the page and realized that what I thought was Confiture de Framboises was rather red and thick for a jam. My knife had only grazed the butter when I yanked it away and hurriedly switched the Curry for the small jar of jam in the fridge. I have them placed right next to each other on the shelf, and they are the same size, so I suppose it was bound to happen sooner or later. Especially when a good book is thrown into the mix.

*Just so you all know, it was the part in the book where Margaret returns from London and tells her sister, Helen, that old Mr. Wilcox proposed. Helen promptly bursts into tears and I was just going to find out why when the before-mentioned incident occurred.

~~~

This morning I was bound and determined to wear my heels in Paris. Since it was ballet flats for the first two months, and boots for the past three, I am quite out of high-heel walking practice - and these are only kitten heels! But I managed to strut (you really can't do anything but strut in heels, and I was feeling rather fancy) the three blocks to Starbucks, only tottering once or twice in the beginning. Marj was meeting me there for coffee and studying and the planning of our next several trips together. Isn't it wonderful, planning? Maybe only natural-born organizers will agree with me, but I do love anticipating things.

I made it all the way back home in my heels; through the cold, cold wind and under the dark grey skies. Apparently Paris has decided not to be cheerful today. I lost my left shoe once, going up the third of seven flights of stairs. But that was alright because I felt like Cinderella!

Prelude to Love

"To be all day with them in the open air, to sleep at night under their roof, had seemed the supreme joy of life, and had led to that abandonment of personality that is a possible prelude to love." E.M. Forester from Howard's End

I wonder if it is true that when you fall in love you are sometimes abandoning your own former personality. And is it still there for you when you fall out of love? I have my own thoughts on this but I think it is certainly true all too often.

Today I went swimming under the Montparnasse Tower in Paris. Now I'm "getting things done" in my flat before I run out (into the rain, I might add) to buy a few things at the store for the beef stew I will be making tonight, on special request from Max. I am also going to attempt to make homemade peanut butter cups with the ingredients and recipe that Kara sent me last week! That should be interesting and, hopefully, delicious.

I am stalling going out because Allison, another assistant from last year, should be coming through Paris today and I don't know when she will contact me, if at all. Hopefully we can meet up in this great European capitol we find ourselves in and have a little fun, American-style! (Whatever that means - any ideas?)

Romantic Occurrence

I happen to believe that romance is scarce. That said, when a romantic occurrence takes place in a girl's day-to-day life in Paris, she simply must report it:

Yesterday I was eating an early lunch with Max at his place when I realized I had to get going or I would miss my bus and be late for class. We said goodbye - he still in his jeans and t-shirt, I in my 5 layers, braced for the snowy weather outside. I walked briskly to the bus, hustling across the street when I saw it coming around the corner, and got in a long line of Parisian bus-riders.

I had just reached the door, and scanned my bus pass, when I heard my phone ringing. Looking down, I saw that it was Max who had called me, but the call had just ended and I was just stepping on the bus. I decided to call him back later to see what I had left behind, if anything. People were moving pretty slowly down the aisle so I was still standing right at the door, with one old lady behind me who was still waiting to step on board. I opened my mouth to say the obligatory: "Bonjour!" to the busdriver when, out of nowhere, a hand tapped me on the back, insistently.

I turned around, surprised, to find an out of breath MAX standing there, beckoning me off the bus and out of line. My first thought was: "What did I leave behind? And why is it so important that he came to give it to me?" But Max's hands were empty, except for my own, which he grabbed immediately upon my rejoining him. "I want to walk you to the metro." He explained.
"You put on a coat, scarf and shoes and ran all this way after me just so we could walk five blocks together?" I demanded.
"Yes. I realized right after you left that I wanted to see you a little longer." He replied, tugging me across the street.
"You know," I teased, mid-street, mid-kiss, "that is quite romantic!"
Ten minutes later, we said goodbye at the metro, and Max turned around to walk back home.

Piece of (Cup)cake!

My socks are drying over the heater and the humidity is fogging up my windows and obstructing my view. But it smells like clean laundry in my room now and I won't have to worry about my eyes getting too dry in these new contacts with all this moisture in the air.

I can see! I've always had a certain aversion to doctors in general, eye doctors in particular. But it wasn't so bad: she was nice to me after the obligatory "why haven't you ever gotten glasses??" remark, and I can actually get them in and out of my eyes now. Also, trees have leaves and individual twigs on the branches! The architecture in Paris is 10 times better than when everything above the 2nd story was all blurry. I can see all the way to La Defense out my bedroom window now - not to mention the Sacre Coeur in the other direction. And there are more than 6 stars in the sky in Seattle, lots more!

Tonight I will attempt to make Red Velvet Cupcakes...we'll see how that works out. It's actually an American cupcake mix out of a box so it should be (key words) very simple, even if it is in France. It's for Xavier's birthday so they better turn out okay. Tomorrow Marjerie and I will eat the leftovers over coffee and talk about going to the ballet or to Bruges or London one weekend.

It is so cold here right now! Below freezing every day makes me miss 50 degree winters in Seattle. And it's just about time for me to put on my 6 layers and brave the cold to go pick up Liam at his school near the Eiffel Tower. I take the metro and get there in just about 10 min - piece of (cup)cake!