Life in Français

My Tumultuous Relationship With... A Pair Of Skis

2008-03-21T14:37:00.008+01:00

Facing a fear is never simple. You're scared shitless and all the scenes depicting everything that could possibly go wrong flash quickly through your mind. Palms get sweaty, stomach starts to ache, you begin to tremble. But at the same time, you're trying to get control of your body and mind. What I do is I talk to myself. "Come on, you can do this, nothing bad is going to happen, be strong, you're an ESTRELLA! Get with it! Get it together! Let's go."

I put on a pair of skis on Tuesday, half unwillingly. I tried skiing once because I wanted to try a new sport. I could sum up that experience with one word: catastrophy. I went with a group of about 30 students from my university, and half of us were beginners. I was the worst in that group, hands down. I just didn't get it. Coming from a tropical climate, let's just say that snow and I aren't exactly best buddies. I crashed and burned, literally. I crashed into a fence and had a bruise the size of a baseball on my arm for about a month.

Fast forward a year later and, ha! Don't you love life's surprises! I'm living in the Rhone-Alpes region of France, the French ski capital. I would even dare call it Europe's ski capital. There was no way I could NOT go skiing and live here. It would be a shame. Not to mention the amount of people that would KILL to go skiing in the Alps...me not going skiing while living an hour drive from the nearest ski resort would not be cool.

The first half an hour on skis was atrocious. I spent 27 of those minutes on my cold, wet butt. The other three were me attempting to get up. I wanted to throw in the towel soooo bad. Why would I want to subject myself to this? The view was so pretty from the ground, why get up? But with patience and perseverance, I managed to FINALLY learn how to ski. Jess the English assistant is an expert skiier and she dedicated the whole time we were there to teaching me to ski, and teaching me to love it and not give up. And I do now, I do love it! I can't wait to go back.

The Alps are absolutely breathtaking. My neck still hurts from looking up (or from falling so many times?). No pictures can do justice to their majesty. But I tried anyway! Here are a few.

Outside

2008-03-18T00:21:00.005+01:00

I don't think there's anything in this world that brings me more joy, that fills my heart till it feels like it's going to BURST, that engages me as much as things created by Mother Nature. Sunshine, fresh flowers, snow-capped mountains, crystal-clear lakes, river rapids, vast green fields, sheep baaaaah-ing, crunchy leaves, muddy pits. Being outdoors really, really, really, really makes me happy.

This week, the sun decided to come out and make its spring debut. Up until then, it had been cold, rainy and gray. Everyone was locked up inside their warm 'n' toasty homes. Little by little, flowers started flourishing and trees sprouted spankin' new leaves. The grass got a little greener. My walks to my school became less depressing. And then all of a sudden, it was warm out, there was no need to layer on the clothes and coats and socks and scarves. All the students laid out on the quad to absorb the warm rays and there wasn't a single person sitting indoors in the cafes--they were all people watching on the tables outside, laughing and taking it easy. And finally, the kids came out to play. I had never seen kids playing outside in the six months I've been here till this week. What a difference a little bit of sunshine can make in the spirit of a town.

I'm going to make it a point to be outside more often. You know, the sun gives us Vitamin E and releases endorphins. Tomorrow, I will go skiing in the Alps. In the near future, I must go rock climbing outdoors. I can see the rock faces every time I look out my apartment window or take a train; it's such a tease.

3 countries, 2 weeks, 1 realization

2008-03-04T17:35:00.008+01:00

I'm back from a brief blogging hiatus. As the headline to this blog foreshadows, lots of things have happened these past two weeks. I made it home to Florida in one piece after a grueling 27-hour journey and two missed flights. I experienced from a distance the blowing up of a suspect suitcase at the airport in Paris (which was the cause of my first missed flight). But it was all worth it to see my family whom I missed terribly.

While I was home, I realized that I have it good in FL. I had always taken for granted all the simple comforts of being home before living in France (having a clothes dryer, homemade food, Miami supermarkets with platanos verdes and yuca, air conditioning). I realized that I don't want to live far from my family. I'm missing so much of my younger sisters' lives and I want to be there for them. When my family came to pick me up in the airport, my youngest sister was looking at me like she couldn't remember my face. Like, "is that really you?" I don't want to be a stranger to my family! For this and many other reasons, I'm not going to renew my contract. I'm tired of exploring and I think I'm ready to settle down in one place.

My horrible experience flying to the States was completely redeemed on the way back to France. I, Miss Fabulous Girl with Connections in American Airlines, got to fly from Miami to Paris free on first class! Upon setting foot on the plane, the flight attendant kindly offered me a drink and a hot towel. Why thank you, darling.

As soon as I got home (to France) I threw a few things in a smaller suitcase because at 3 a.m., I was to get on a bus and go to Milan. The shoe and pursemaking students were going to a fashion expo and the other English assistant and I were invited to go along. Milan is more like French than Italian. The city wasn't all that great though--I think it's overhyped.

When I got home from Milan, I (again) threw a few things in a backpack because in the morning, I was getting picked up to spend the weekend in a chalet in the Vercors, the mountains nearest to here. We did a couple of hikes and explored some caves. It was amazing! I regretted not bringing my climbing gear when I saw a couple of climbers on a rock face. The cliffs and views are amazing in the Vercors!

And that's the past two weeks, in a nutshell. On Friday, my sister and cousin are coming to visit and that should be a whole other adventure!

strikes, strikes, STRIKES!

2008-02-14T12:28:00.004+01:00

In case I had forgotten that I was living in France, I got a rude awakening this morning--literally. At about 9 a.m., I woke up to the loud rackets of whistles blowing, chants, screams and cheers. I looked out the window and saw a ton of students not in class. Why of course, there was a protest.

Like in no other country, I'm sure, protests are a part of everyday life in France. Whether participating in them or being affected by them--in a good or bad way--they just are. The students were protesting the laying off of 14 teachers at the school. The cuts would be made for the next school year. One of the cuts would be made in the English department. So they blocked off all the entrances to the schools with shopping carts, tables and chairs, and then took to the streets. The cops had to step in and block off the road in front of the school because the students weren't letting any cars go by. Classes are pretty full as it is--I don't see the point in the administration laying off such a large amount of teachers. And neither did the students.

The students have even gone as far as fighting for me and Jess, the other English assistant. I don't know if I mentioned that we are going to Milan with the students at the end of February for Fashion Week (they study shoemaking and pursemaking). Well apparently, one of the teachers taking the students on the trip thought that me and Jess should pay more than everyone else. And the students were not going to have any of that. So they all marched into the principal's office to protest. I haven't even ever met these students, as I'm not their assistant, but it was touching that they would fight for me without knowing me. It's all about the principle of the matter.

And tomorrow, I'm praying to God that I am not affected by strikes. I have a flight to catch from Paris to Miami tomorrow morning and one of the teachers just informed me that the air traffic controllers are on strike. NOT good!

My friend Jeanne told me that yesterday, all the hair salon workers were on strike in Grenoble. Isn't that the funniest thing ever? I laughed. So yea, sometimes the whole strikes thing gets a bit ridiculous. But it's good to see that the citizens of this country take to heart their freedom of speech and assembly. They really do have democracy here. Vive la France!

Stuck Between a Rock and a Hard Place

2008-02-13T11:32:00.004+01:00

Time is ticking! From the moment I stepped foot off the plane in Europe, I've been doomingly (yes, I just made up that adverb) counting down the days till I would get back on that plane and go back where I came from. "This is so sad, I only have eight more months in France..." is what I remember thinking when I got on that first train. And now, mid February, I only have 3 more months left. Just 92 days, to be exact. And while this may seem like an eternity to some, it feels like with just the blink of an eye, five months just whizzed by and I didn't even notice.

By the end of this week, I need to decide if I want to renew my assistantship here. And I've been thinking about it. But everything is so circumstantial. I want to have a French roommate because my French has not really improved all that much this year. I would love to stay in France for another year, but I would like to live in a bigger city (anything but Paris). A city with good public transportation and more than three bars. A place where there's youth and charm and lots of green space. And I would like to be near the mountains. Grenoble would be the perfect fit, but the chances of me getting placed there are slim to none.

But if I do end up doing this again, what exactly am I expecting? Idealistically, I would love it if all of the great friends I made this year abroad would also stay, and we could all just continue this fairytale life we've been living. But that's not going to happen. If I stay here, everything will be different. Including myself.

However, going back to Florida and to my old job seems like a prison sentence. I want change. As much as I love status quo, and as apprehensive as I am about transition and modifying my life in a big way, in the end, I'm always happy experiencing new things.

I randomly started searching for journalism jobs in the States online the other day. I found this one job in north Georgia. The upside: the town's at the foot of the Appalachians, for a small weekly paper known for training young journalists. Rent is cheap. The downside: the population of the town was something like 4,000, and the median age was early 40s. But on the brightside, the town is 3 hours away from 4 or 5 metropolitan cities, including Atlanta and Nashville. Hmm...

I don't know what I want. I don't know where I'll end up. I've been watching too much "Sex and The City" and I feel a quarter-life crisis coming.

Birthday Abroad

2008-02-08T10:52:00.000+01:00

Two is my lucky number. Last week, I turned 22. That's two twos, double the luck. I had two birthday parties and two memorable nights.

On the actual day of my birthday, I had all my friends from our little town over for dinner. We prepared some of my favorite dishes: a quiche Lorraine, red peppers glazed with sugar and almonds, baked fennel, a chocolate cake, a chocolate and pear pie, and an Italian dessert that literally translated means "chocolate salami." Which, by the way, reminds me that I should mention that my knowledge of the kitchen has exponentially expanded during these past couple of months in France. I've learned so many secret recipes, especially Italian ones, and feel as though I can accurately measure things by the eye now. When I get back to the States, I'll host one big dinner party and invite you all so that you can sample all these things! We also played beer pong and I realized that I'm a bit rusty...which only reinforces the fact that I'm no longer a college student, and that makes me slightly sad.

The weekend after my birthday, I was off to Grenoble with a couple of friends because there's nothing to do in Romans. After a full day of shopping, we had a get-together at my friend's place and tons of people showed up, both French and English speakers. My friend baked cupcakes and glazed them with homemade frosting, which really made my day because I love cupcakes!!! But they don't exist in France. And finally, we hit the streets and I was relieved to experience some sort of nightlife, which is nonexistent in Romans.

I received a ton of presents, more than my last birthday and Christmas combined. And they all came from people I've known only since October or later. They weren't just any kind of presents--thought was put into each of them and that made me feel very special. I now own a couple of full-color books on France and this region, a French recipe book for chocolate addicts, slippers so that I'm not walking around barefoot all the time and stepping on shards of glass, the Spiceworld DVD in French, a pretty, colorful necklace stand, a 250-piece kid's puzzle of Europe, and many more.

My 21st year has definitely been my best so far. In the year of 2007, I legally had a drink (or two...or a few dozen), earned a college degree, gained some experience in my field through the internship I did over the summer, explored the South (of the US) and a bit of the Appalachians, discovered my love for rock climbing, moved to a foreign country, traveled around Europe, made friends from around the world, pierced my nose (it closed up already though, but it was pretty rebellious for a girl like me!), had a few romantic escapades, and so much more. 22 has a lot to live up to!

...And Then Things Got a Little Weird

2008-02-05T15:45:00.001+01:00

While at the Vatican the next day, I received five phone calls, two voice mails and a text message. The man was getting impatient and I was getting cold feet. What was I supposed to do? Indulge in this foreign less-than-24-hours romance with the man that claims I am his soulmate (WOAH...) or blow him off knowing nothing would come of it?

I called him back with the pretext that I was in a church and couldn't talk on the phone and in less than an hour, he met me by one of the big fountains in St. Peter's Square, motorcycle helmet in hand. He immediately went in for a kiss and I turned to give him my cheek, and he was a bit surprised. He tells me he came on his bike which only had room for two, but there was no way I was going to hop on his bike with him so he can drive me to a far, remote place and lock me up forever, so I asked Desiree to stay with me.

As we strolled through the freezing Roman streets, I mentioned my hands were cold since I had lost a glove the night before, and we stopped at a street vendor's store ( consisting of a blanket laid out on a sidewalk with what is most likely to be stolen merchandise) where he bought me a pair of gloves. The more we walked, the more my feet throbbed and the more we steered out of the city center and into shady, not-so-glitzy neighborhoods. He wanted to show me the restaurant where he worked in case I ever needed to find him. Mind you, the restaurant was closed and he knew it! I thought we were going to eat there and I was starving. After this pointless trip to his closed restaurant, I suggested we get back to the center since I didn't feel very safe. Of course, he assured me that he was a nice guy and wouldn't harm me, but I found that hard to believe as he had me in a near head lock as those very words were coming out of his mouth.

The more this awkward date went on, the more I wanted it to end. The man wouldn't let go of me. At all times, there had to be some body contact, whethe it was gripping my hand so tight the blood wasn't circulating, or putting his arm around me so roughly I felt he was about to tackle me. While on the metro, I stared forward and I could feel him staring at me (he was sitting next to me). I looked at the reflection on the glass in front of me to confirm, and yes indeed, he was staring with dreamy eyes thinking of god knows what with a silly smile on his face. I asked him to please stop staring at me, and he said he couldn't take his eyes off of me. He never wanted to forget my face. He kept trying to kiss me and I continued to turn my head. I told him I only let him kiss me the night before because it was New Year's Eve. Special occasions call for exceptions.

By the time we got back to Rome center, I was desperately searching for excuses in my head to end this. And he was searching for words to express his undying love for me, a girl he hasn't even bothered to ask what she's doing in Rome, where she lives, or what her favorite color is. Whenever he opened his mouth, it was either to talk about his strong feelings or to put a cigarette in his mouth. Some of the things he told me included (roughly translated by me from Italian into English):
1) "But why do I need to know anything about you? All I need to do is look into your eyes and I know everything there is to know."
2) "I love you. I love you. I love you." (at normal voice level, in whispers, or just mouthing it out with no sound.)
3) "My heart is beating 1,235,843 times per second at the sight of you. I love you."
4) "You don't believe how much I love you? Do you want me to shout it to all the streets of Rome so that I can prove it to you? Because I can do that, if you want."
5) "I really don't want you to forget how much I love you. I want to write it on a piece of paper for you to take with you back to France so that when you look at it, you remember."
6) "So why is it that you won't just move to Rome and live with me? You have my love, that's all you need."
And the list goes on......

Now just imagine if you were in my shoes. What would you do? I couldn't take advantage of this man's feelings for me. I had already planned to at least get dinner out of this, but even that was too much. I agreed to a cup of coffee and that's it. I would then go home with the excuse that my feet really hurt and that I wasn't hungry at all for dinner (the latter being a big fat lie). And after coffee, I had to break it to him. I didn't love him. He was too much to handle. I wasn't moving to Rome to marry him. And that I was sorry I couldn't reciprocate his feelings for me.

He took a few steps back, took out a cigarette, lit it up, puffed anxiously, and cried. Yes, cried. I heard sniffles, and I couldn't believe it till I turned around and saw with my own eyes.

Franco wasn't the same person as yesterday. On the last day of 2007, he was mysterious, romantic, enticing, attractive... but on this first day of 2008, in broad daylight, we was overbearing, emotional, obsessive, posessive, scary. Perhaps there was some sort of shift in the universe while we were asleep. However, I must say that this was one hell of a way to ring in the new year.

"One-Sided Love At First Sight", Italy Part II

2008-01-28T18:07:00.000+01:00

It's been a month since I was in Italy and my recollection of it all is starting to become hazy... but there's one special story I remember very vividly from that trip that I want to share. It is the kind of story you'd be able to pull straight out of a romantic comedy, except what I'm about to tell you is real, not scripted.

The date was December 31, 2007, the time 11:59 p.m., the place Piazza di Popolo in Rome, one of the big plazas of the city that drew in large crowds on that vibrant night. As my friends and I are counting down the seconds to the new year, others are already indulging in make-out sessions, guzzling champagne, shattering beer bottles on the ground, and lighting up fireworks. And then there was that one guy, the one scanning the crowds, hoping to lock eyes with the woman of his dreams whom he hasn't met yet. And then he would finally catch her attention, distracted by all the chaos encircling her.

"That guy is staring at you."
"Is he cute?"

I turn around, to check out who this guy is. My friends were probably mistaken, I thought. He's not staring at me. He's staring at that blonde chick behind me that's falling out of her dress. Hey, he's not bad. He was towering over the otherswise short Italians, piercing into my eyes with this look of seduction, as if trying to reel me in like a fish from an ocean full of celebrating tourists and natives. But it's not working. Didn't take the bait.

Next thing I know, he actually comes up to me, tells me buon anno (happy new year in Italian), and gives me the bises. OK, now that we got that out of the way, maybe he'll leave a happy camper. But no. Next thing I know, he's walking towards me with a yellow rose in hand, and as he hands it to me, he says, in Italian of course, "For the most beautiful woman of 2008."

Are you kidding me?

So we got to talking, figured out his name was Franco, an Italian-Romanian who felt the electrifying power of love overcome him when he laid eyes on me. Unfortunately, I didn't feel the same way. But hey, I'm in Rome, on New Year's Eve, why not? As we shared a New Year's kiss, he told me that "tu sei bella" and that "ti amo." So we exchanged numbers and agreed to meet the next day.

Let's Play Catchup...Italia, Part I

2008-01-13T23:35:00.000+01:00

Happy New Year, Bonne Année, Buon Anno & Feliz Ano Nuevo!

I spent Christmas break in Italia, as some of you may know, and it was... umm... I guess I can't really sum it up with one adjective. So let's try 10:
deliciousssss,
GRANDIOSE,
enlightening,
hilarious!!!,
stressful,
diverse,
...astonishing...
ridiculous,
perplexing??
AWESOME.

For the first leg of the trip, my roommate's family hosted Desiree and me in their cute little Italian apartment with a dinner table that can easily sit 20 people, or 50 different dishes, or both. Most of our time there was spent at this table, as the meals were painfully long and arduous (averaging 2.75 hours). Don't get me wrong--the food was delicious, hence my first adjective, but it was just too much at times (scratch that, ALL THE TIME). A normal human being cannot possibly stomach a full appetizer (with drink), antipasti, a huge plate of pasta, tons of bread, then a huge plate of meat and vegetables, then dessert, then the espresso, and to top it off, the fruit. Even at the restaurant, they bring you a basket of fruit at the end of the meal! Needless to say, I gained some weight in Italy, and this hard belly is a very much unwanted souvenir from the trip.

The south of Italy is really a hidden gem and I would love for it to be kept that way. Rosangela's region is the Puglia. You know how Italy is shaped like a boot? Puglia is the heel. The Puglia doesn't see many tourists since it's so far south so it's more authentic. We visited:
Bari- The big city in the south, has an Oriental/Mediterranean vibe, by the sea, lovely
Matera- A town carved out of rock, truly breathtaking, The Passion of the Christ was filmed here!
Alberobello- a small town known for the trulli, which is a sort of house that is cylindrical in shape, they look like little white teepees but people actually live/work in them. Cute!
Lecce-The furthest south of them all, lots of baroque churches, kinda reminded me of Miami on a smaller scale, but less flashy and more modest.

Rosangela's town is called Santeramo in Colle. The population is just under 30,000 and everyone knows each other. Nobody ever really goes there, so when these two Americans showed up, it was quite the event. We constantly had a crowd, as if we were celebrities or something! They would stare at us when we spoke (or didn't speak) with this look in their eyes like, "Wow, they're real! Real Americans! This can't be happening!" And would ask us countless questions to see what we had in common. It was endearing.

The specialty of the town is horse meat. If you've never tried horse meat before, you're missing out. It's really flavorful and has a special kick to it like no meat I've ever tasted. Yummm.

I learned some Italian and how to play with Napolitan cards, which is traditional during Christmas time.

"I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas"

2007-12-16T23:41:00.000+01:00

In less than a week, I'll be in southern Italy where it is currently snowing. Looks like I'll be having my very first frosty, snow-covered Christmas! And yes, that actually does excite me. I'm excited for snow. For once. I am usually overcome with fear at the thought of me and snow in the same context, but that's slowly beginning to fade away. I think the beauty of seeing snow-capped mountains everyday is helping me acquiese my fear of extreme cold weather (or "extreme" by Miami standards).

While I'm so happy to be going to a new country, I have mixed feelings about spending Christmas away from home. On one hand, I feel lucky and blessed to have the chance to experience the holidays in a foreign country, where I can learn new traditions, taste exotic dishes, make more friends around the world, etc. And I'm very thankful for my roommate's family welcoming me and Desiree into their small, already cramped home. We'll be in southern Italy for a week, Rome for New Year's and Florence afterward. :D Italian culture is so funny and I can't wait to experience it first hand. That probably sounds really strange (can a culture be funny?) but my roommate constantly makes me laugh with her Italianisms and stories about her people and her hand gestures and her "figura di merdas".

But at the same time, this is the first Christmas I will spend without my family. We're a tight group. I received two Christmas cards in the mail last week: one from my parents and one from my sisters. I barely managed to rip open the envelope before I started bawling. I cried for about 10 minutes and then finally read what they had written me. My littlest sister drew a picture of me and her and Santa and dancing gingerbread men (?) and put a heart in each of our hands. My teenage sister wrote that she misses me a lot, and that means so much to me coming from her because I didn't even know she remembered I existed (she's at that age). And my oldest younger sister's e-mailed message was glued to the card since she's away at college. I miss my family sooooooo much that I almost regret not having bought a return ticket for Christmas.

But in the back of my mind, Reason tells me that this will be a good, different experience for me that will make me stronger and will help me gain a new appreciation for those that I love.

Good People, Good Meals

2007-12-13T11:05:00.000+01:00

I apologize for not updating in such a long time! Between being sick, Desiree's visit, and being sick again, I haven't really had much time. I'm recovering from the flu right now and spent last night in a puddle of sweat from the high fever I had, yuck. But this, too, shall pass!

Over the past couple of weeks, I've realized what a good meal does for me. And by "good meal" I'm not necessarily referring to the taste of the food. Because I think it's possible to have a good meal with burnt rice, undercooked potatoes, and flavorless meat--so long as you're in good company and can make light of the situation.

At my apartment, we have good meals almost every day. Since there's not really much else to do (no bars, no nightlife, no nothin'--and it's cold outside), we spend our nights cooking, inventing recipes with whatever is left in the fridge, making rounds at the supermarket picking up strange vegetables and figuring out how they are to be cooked, and inviting neighbors, co-workers and new friends over. In the two months I've been here, I have learned countless recipes from all around Europe: Italian, French, English and Spanish. I have discovered fennel, artichoke (as in the actual vegetable, not just the heart), brusselsprouts, turnips, real pasta a la carbonara, fugasse, rissotto, and the list goes on.

Through these long meals, I have learned a lot about the people I work with, which I can now call my friends. I know their eating habits, their embarrassing stories, how their work day was, their love stories, new French words, new English words, their culture, their worries, their struggles...a lot. It's nice to have people to share a meal with, and I can appreciate taking my time to eat the meals set in front of me instead of scarfing it down in 10 minutes or less and then going back to my laptop to waste countless hours on the Internet.

The Big Comeback

2007-12-03T14:24:00.000+01:00

I WISH I HAD TICKETS!!!!!!!

I remember when I went to the Spice Girls concert on June 11, 1998 in West Palm Beach, FL. It was the show that almost didn't happen, as it was the first show of their American tour and their first show without Geri (Ginger Spice). Everyone thought they'd break up and not go on with the show. But they performed nonetheless, and it was one of the happiest and most memorable days of my life.

And now they're back together, all FIVE of them, and I really wish I had tickets! For now, I'll just have to settle for YouTube videos of their shows. The perfomance below is really incredible, so much energy and girl power! Really takes me back to those middle school days when all of our birthday parties were Spice Girls-themed.

HEY SPICE GIRLS, COME TO FRANCE!!!!!!

Pourquoi? Parce que.

2007-11-27T02:16:00.000+01:00

Something I learned today: The Gare de Lyon is not actually in Lyon. It's in Paris. Why? Just cuz. Because this world is not supposed to make any sense.

The Pumpkin Pie...

2007-11-24T03:03:00.000+01:00

...was a hit! I think it actually tastes better made from scratch than using the canned pumpkin. Here it is! And note that it's half eaten, meaning I do not lie and people actually ate it. Yummmm....

Climbing Highs And Lows

2007-11-21T02:06:00.000+01:00

(For those of you that care about my climbing and/or would know what in the world I'm talking about when I refer to the inverted wall or lead climbing, you may read on. If not, skip to the previous post down below.)

On Monday, I managed to cram in my biggest climbing accomplishment and my biggest climbing failure. So the good news first: I climbed the entire inverted wall! Without falling! My belayer was an expert climber who is also one of the guys in charge, and he challenged me do it. I didn't think I could, but I struggled so much on that wall and finally reached the top. Earlier, one of my climbing mentors (seriously, a 70-something-year-old man with legs hard as a rock and the climbing wisdom of, well, a 70-year-old climber) told me after observing me climb that I go too fast and that I need to concentrate more and go slow, using my whole body and not just my arms. So with his advice, I didn't panic or feel rushed to climb the wall and finally did it. I felt very accomplished. That feeling didn't last very long.

Minutes later, I suffered my biggest climbing scare to date. After seeing how well I climbed the inverted wall, my belayer told me I should work on lead climbing. Lead climbing is basically when you're the first to climb and the rope is not already set, so as you go, you're clipping the rope onto the bolts on the wall. I've done lead climbing before, but always at an easy level. This time, he challenged me to lead climb the wall at a difficult level (french system, a 6A+, which is about a 5.10 or 5.11, I think). So I went for it. I mean come on, I just climbed the inverted wall at the 6A level, I could do this.

I started off fine. I was almost at the top and I had two bolts to go. The inverted wall had taken almost all my strength, but I soldiered on. I put the clip onto the second to last bolt, but my arms were starting to give out. I knew that if I fell now, I would fall a couple of feet down. As I went to put the rope through the clip, I missed, and my arms just gave out. And I went tumbling down, about 5 or 6 feet, and slammed into the rough wall. The rope burned my lips and my arm and I bruised my back, but that's not what burnt me the most. It was the embarrassment. The whole gym went silent, and everyone was staring.

A bunch of people came up to me to see if I was ok, and of course I played it off like it was nothing. But seriously, my life flashed before my eyes! I wanted to cry, but I didn't want to look like a whimp in front of all these tough, experienced French climbers. I want to make an impression on them: not an American that stuffs her face with McDonald's and watches TV all day, but one that is brave and serious about climbing and doesn't break down over a little fall. My body ached but my belayer told me to take a breather and try it again. He wouldn't let me quit, and I love that in a partner. I tried again and when I was getting close to the bolt that I missed, I chickened out and climbed back down. I couldn't do it. I was too scared to fall again and hurt myself. My mom would kill me if she found this out--she already hates the fact that I climb because she thinks I'm going to fall off some cliff or something and die.

I couldn't climb the rest of the night. I was still trembling from the scare. But next time I go into the rock gym, I'm going straight to that same wall and lead climbing it to the top. Of that, you can be sure!

Christmas Tunes and Pumpkin Pie

2007-11-21T00:36:00.000+01:00

While I expressed my deep hatred for French strikes on the last post, I must admit that today, I was the #1 supporter of the strikes. I didn't have to work today because the teachers I was supposed to work with today were all striking. And I didn't work all of Friday afternoon, the weekend, Monday, or Tuesday. I'm not working tomorrow either. Life is good.

So today, I spent the day curled up in my warm bed, downloading Christmas songs and singing them with my roommate (as well as shedding some light upon the meaning of these English lyrics for her which she knows but does not understand). The one productive thing I did do was manage to spend 60 euro on Christmas decorations and pumpkin pie ingredients. Christmas lights are so expensive here...a set of 100 bulbs is 9 freakin' euro! I can get the same product in the states for 99 cents at Walgreens. And that's not even for the multi-colored lights.

I'm supposed to go to a pseudo Thanksgiving dinner at Annie's house (the one that adopted me, kinda) on Friday and I offered to make a pumpkin pie. Which P.S., I've never made. Finding the ingredients for this pumpkin pie I'm supposedly making was quite the task. As expected, French supermarkets do not have heavy whipping cream, canned pumpkin puree or other basic items needed to make this Thanksgiving dessert in stock. So the creation of this pie will be totally improvised. I bought an actual pumpkin slice....do you think that if I just mash that up and throw in some eggs, flour and sugar, a delicious, American, homemade pie will be the end result?

New John! and Strikes

2007-11-17T02:01:00.000+01:00

My night was going badly until I read THIS!

John Mayer's new song, Say, is so sweet! Love it. :)

And then, Perez posted a video of the Spice Girls comeback performance right above the John Mayer post! I never would've imagined such a thing. My two favorite artists of all time, all on one page.

And the reason for my bad night was that the Brit and I were planning on escaping the boredom that is a weekend in Romans, but then the train workers had to go on strike and ruin everything.

I.
Hate.
Strikes.
And.
Freedom.
Of.
Speech.
(Sometimes).

Snow!

2007-11-15T14:48:00.000+01:00

IT'S SNOWING IN ROMANS! I never thought I'd be so excited/happy to see snow, so even I was surprised when I felt a big grin appear on my face at the sight of it. Let's see how long the cuteness aspect of this natural phenomenon lasts.

I just finished watching the news (we have a TV now with FIVE channels! What a luxury!) and upon seeing the weather report, I was shocked. My region of France is the coldest this week coming in at -5 degrees Celcius. All the other regions were at zero or positive numbers. So my faulty reasoning ("Hey, I'll choose to live in Grenoble because it's in the south and it's hot and it has mountains") ended up getting the last laugh.

Life Lessons

2007-11-14T13:40:00.000+01:00

I've learned a couple of life lessons this week. Let me educate you:

1. Don't pray for English people. They'll laugh at you or think you're strange. (And if you do pray for them, don't tell them.)

2. Don't drink too much near little hobbit-y Irish people. It can lead to trouble and regret. Especially in dark alleys.

3. Make sure you plan your vacations around French strikes. They will most definitely ruin your plans if you don't.

4. Wear STRONG perfume and layers of deodorant when exercising to drown out any stanky BO, not necessarily your own.

5. French churros will never compare to Latin American ones so don't get your hopes up. However, the Spanish ones are alright.

Te Dejo Madrid

2007-11-07T23:13:00.000+01:00

I returned to France today from a five-day mini vacation to Madrid which almost never happened due to a series of unfortunate circumstances on the day of my departure. Murphy's Law has never been so real, but I made finally made it to Spain!

It was so good to see familiar faces again since I've been feeling homesick lately. It was also a huge relief to finally be able to speak a language I'm completely comfortable with: Spanish. Though I must say, many times I questioned if I knew ANY Spanish at all, like when staring blankly at a cafeteria menu with items like patatas fritas (papitas fritas/french fries...or wait, did that mean potato chips???), zumo (jugo/juice), gambas (camarones/shrimp), and many others which I do not recall.

I discovered Madrid with the aid of Desiree who hosted me in her fabolous, centrally-located apartment that is reminiscent of the film Les Auberges Espagnoles, as there are NINE girls living there from five different countries. We also went with Fernando to the Sierra and saw the mountainside and an adorable city called Segovia, which was totally what I pictured Spain to be like. I spent like half my paycheck at Zara, or should I say, THARA, and I'm now suffering from Thara withdrawal...Must.....shop.....more......

And this made my trip. The whole time I was there, I tried to imitate the way the Spanish speak by overdoing the "thetas" (or how they pronounce the z's) and Desiree said I was overdoing it. I beg to differ. Because on the plane on the way back, I sat next to two guys from Cordoba who spoke like they just burnt their tongue, using the "theta" for ALL z's, c's AND s's! YES! I knew I wasn't exaggerating that ridiculous accent.

The Extortionist Laverie

2007-10-31T18:41:00.000+01:00

You will NEVER guess how much it costs to wash one load of clothes here in Romans. NEVER! Guess? Guess?

Ok, I'll just tell you. But let me just preface by saying that it only costs $0.75 to wash a pretty big load in America (or at least in the UF residence halls). Furthermore (I'll just do the math for you), it costs me $5 to wash AND dry THREE loads of clothes. Whites. Darks. Colors.

3.90 EURO!!!!!!!

Today, on October 31, 2007, the equivalent of this, according to Yahoo! Finance, is $5.6421. To wash one small load. Extortionists. Needless to say, I only washed one load and mixed darks with whites, delicates with cotton, just stuffed it all in there untill there was hardly any room left.

I figure it's due to the scarcity of water in these whereabouts. I mean, these people don't even have water fountains at the gym or in school. At the teacher's lounge in one of my schools, they ask for a ten-cent donation if you're gonna take one of those cone cups of water. Due to this justification, if you can even call it that, I thought it was pretty reasonable that it only costs 50 Euro cents to dry a load. It doesn't use any water, so why would it be more? Makes perfect sense.

What DOESN'T make sense is why the dryer stopped working after 5 minutes. I thought this had to be a mistake, so I put in another 5o cents, and pressed START once more. And sure enough, the dryer stopped 5 minutes after that. I asked some crazy French lady that kept taking to herself if this was normal, and she replied with a "bah, ouiiii." Times like these, I miss home!

My clothes is now hanging in the living room, clothespins and all. And I thought clothespins were only used for arts and crafts projects nowadays. Little did I know!

Job #2

2007-10-31T12:25:00.000+01:00

I got a second job! I will be babysitting two little French kids, ages 4 and 10. Tomorrow, I will meet the family and the kids. Me and another assistant posted some signs in the teachers lounge and one of the professors got back to me. I wonder how much I should charge, considering the fact I have NO money....

I'm glad I got this job because I will be around French children who can probably talk slowly and teach me a child's vocabulary. Then I can take that and teach it to my little sister, Madeleine! Madeleine already knows some french words, like "du lait," "de l'eau," "jus d'orange," "du pain," "s'il vous plait" and "mademoiselle." You know, five basic phrases to survive. She has an interest in French at such a tender young age and it's completely ~~forced upon by me~~ self-motivated. So proud of that little rascal.

Did That Viejo Just Outrun Me?

2007-10-26T16:54:00.000+02:00

It's amazing to me how active the over-the-hill population is in this region of France. As I walk to school every morning, the majority of speedy bike riders zooming past me are 62-year-old ladies with calves hard as a rock pedalling with the power of a 15-year-old over the many hills. Insanity! You would NEVER see that in America. The elderly just stay at home, watching TV and sipping slowly on soup. It's a chore to walk from one room to another.

At the rock climbing gym on Wednesday, I saw a man that I SWEAR could not possibly be a day younger than 75. He climbed the inverted wall in less than 2 minutes. This is the same wall I was working on for over a half hour and ended up not being able to finish. From a distance, I could admire every one of his tight leg muscles outlined with each sharp move, as well as his shiny old hairless head and poofy white beard. And then I looked around me. The majority of the people climbing were adults or the elderly. None of this college and high school student thing you see at GRG (the rock gym in G-Ville). So weird.

I want to be like these people when I reach retirement. I don't want to be an old heap of wrinkles and gray hair slumped over a bed. I want to be able to walk everywhere in a cute skirt, showing off my experienced and muscular legs, despite my ripe age.

For Shits and Giggles

2007-10-24T23:15:00.000+02:00

Today was a funny day. I spent the majority of the time laughing. Days like these are always good.

I laughed when I asked my students to locate Miami on the map and in every single class without fail, they went straight to California. And New York? It's right in the center near Oklahoma.

I laughed at some of the ridiculous haircuts I've seen. The mullet is in, y'all! There was one guy on the train that had a mullet, a faux hawk, AND gelled bangs--all at once! And the mullet doesn't discriminate; it plagues the females, too.

I DIED laughing when my roommate got locked in the toiletroom (the toilets are separate from the bathroom). She was there for like 15 minutes and because I was laughing so hard, I had absolutely no energy to save her. The thought of her living over a toilet in such confined spaces (about 1.5' x 2') for the rest of our time here was absolutely hilarious. Especially since she's counting down the days till her boyfriend of TEN years (YES, TEN) comes to visit. And he would find her trapped in the w/c. lol

And of course, I saved the best for last. My bike got stolen today! Instead of mourning the theft, I just burst out laughing when I saw nothing but the cut lock on the floor by the bike racks. Who would EVER want to steal that shiteous bike? The back tire flattens within seconds, the frame is all banged up, the handlebars were gonna fall off any day now anyway, and it's just...hideous. It's not easy to ride. I rather walk than bike. Good riddens.

Goals

2007-10-24T01:12:00.000+02:00

New goal: Spend less time on Facebook and PerezHilton.com and more time doing more important things with my life.

Aside from the fact that to access the very weak WiFi signal, I must balance my laptop on one leg in a specific corner in my room and this causes my muscles to cramp at times, I really could be doing better things. Like finally finishing "Eat Pray Love" (a great book I bought at the airport and couldn't put down on the plane), putting the last touches on Cami's wedding pictures and giving them to her (the wedding was in June! I feel really bad about this), or speaking French with a conversation partner I have yet to find (another goal). I need to be monitored!

UPDATE: Today, I read like 15 pages of my book! Though I have not really restricted my activity on the aforementioned Web sites, I have increased my intellectual activity overall (reading books, reading the news, writing down new French words and phrases, etc.)

I Live In An Ice Box

2007-10-21T22:43:00.000+02:00

It's..........soooooooooooo........COLD.

The heaters don't start working till Nov. 1st. Till then, everyone just has to freeze. Last night, I slept with my coat on, two regular blankets and two fleece blankets, and it still wasn't enough. Tonight, I will sleep with all of the above PLUS gloves, a scarf, a hat, a second pair of pants and a second pair of socks. It must be in the low 40s outside and maybe the high 30s inside.

I miss my Florida sun!

Today, we spent the whole day in the kitchen cooking to keep warm. I nearly joined the potatoes in the boiling pot of water. Instead of using powdered sugar for a recipe, I opted for the solid hard cubes and pouncing on them with the grip of my knife for what seemed an eternity in order to keep moving and (possibly?) sweat. I hope this is just a cold front and not the start of winter!

UPDATE: Thank GOD the heaters started working today. May the lord bless the guy who flipped the switch and saved us from another sleepless, shivering night.

Three Unrelated Points

2007-10-19T01:10:00.000+02:00

I felt homesick for like 10 minutes today, but then I got over it.

Also, I have discovered that I'm addicted to chocolate. It's a drug. If I don't get it everyday, I fall into a state of depression and anxiety. Be it in a pain au chocolat, in a brioche, or an actual chocolate bar, I must have it! I'm equally addicted to sugar. Two French ladies scoffed at me when they saw me press "extra sucre" on the coffee machine in the teacher's lounge today. They told me I would die of diabetes. At least I'll die happy!

SNCF (the train company) workers went on strike today. What a surprise: a strike in France. And how did that affect me? Instead of having to get up at 8 a.m., I had to be up before 4 p.m.! Three of my four classes were cancelled because of this, including a 9 and 10 a.m. class, since most teachers don't live in Romans and take the train to work. Thank you, freedom of speech!

THIS Has Made My Day

2007-10-16T23:16:00.000+02:00

John Mayer on Wikipedia's main page today!
=) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JOHN! Wow, the man is 30. He's still got it, though!

Toulon/La Seyne-sur-Mer

2007-10-16T01:29:00.000+02:00

I spent this past weekend in Annie and Regis' lovely summer house in La Seyne-sur-Mer, a beach and boating town on the Mediterranean less than 3 miles from Toulon. Needless to say, it was absolutely beautiful. It was hot, sunny and humid the whole time (FLORIDA WEATHER AT LAST!!!!) and I didn't want to leave. We ate outside on the terrace every day with a view of the ocean. You could smell the sea salt in the air.

It was my first time wading in the Mediterranean. It's so blue! Some of the beaches looked like mine back in Miami (with light sand), but other beaches were rocky. It's so strange to think that those rocks are naturally there, that it wasn't some guy that was playing a joke on his buddies a long time ago by filling the area with uncomfortable rocks. Besides going to the beach, we did a little tour of Toulon, ate a lot of good food--as usual, and hiked to the top of a nearby mountain whose name I forget.

To go from La Seyne-sur-Mer to Toulon, you have to take a 15 min. boat ride. It's their form of public transport into the city. Regis told me that the kids that go to school in Toulon take the boat every morning. Strange! Yet so awesome.

On with the photos!

Villard de Lans - Vercors

2007-10-15T14:34:00.000+02:00

The Vercors is a national park that's popular for hiking, rock climbing, mountain biking and skiing. A bit like the Appalachian Trail but on a smaller scale. We started off in Villard de Lans, a cute ski town that is deserted for the moment as ski season hasn't started yet. I didn't get to see those caves I mentioned in the last entry, but we did take a beautiful nature hike. Here are some snapshots!

Club Alpin Francais and the Great Outdoors

2007-10-10T01:13:00.000+02:00

I FINALLY started rock climbing again, but in doing so, I realized how much my muscles have deteriorated from not having climbed for a month and a half. I've joined the Club Alpin Francais (CAF) and all I need to do to finalize my membership is go to the doctor and get a note from him or her saying I'm healthy.

Climbing indoors in France is so different. They use different belaying techniques and different devices. I felt like a novice all over again. And let me tell you, it was STAAAAANK in that gym. I always defended the French back in America (yes, I now refer to the states as "America") when my friends would talk about the lack of showering practices in France. I take all of that back. I had a guy climbing next to me with his armpit in my face every time he reached for a hold and I wanted to throw up mid-air. It's not just bad B.O. It's a reeking, rotting smell that induces all kinds of disgust from the pits of my stomach. Grosssss.

The lady that I sort of befriended, if you can say that, was nice and really cool. Except she kept using slang words and I could never understand what she was saying. She would also tell me everything in a whisper (the French are really good at that) and I kept thinking she was telling me a secret. But no, she was just telling me how her daughter lost her glasses when she was climbing in a canyon. Why whisper? Are Americans just loud, or are the French discreet for no apparent reason? Or both?

There's already a CAF excursion this weekend to go to the south of Ardeche (the department next to mine, which is Drome) to do some hiking and climbing. Very exciting, we'll see if I go.

For the meantime, I'm supposed to get up in 7 hours (I should be sleeping now!!!) to go hike in the Vercors tomorrow with two other American assistants . We're going to explore some caves, I think, and just get out there to the heart of the mountains that we only see from a distance. I shall post pictures upon arrival.

Maybe I should've done this earlier...

This is a map of France and very carefully yet boot-leggedly marked is where I live. As you can see, it's in a valley between two mountain chains. Click on the map to enlarge.

UPDATE: It's hard to see, but to orient yourself, Paris is in the north central region of France in the Ile-de-France region. Lyon, the second biggest city in France, is just northwest of Romans.

Rugby and the French

2007-10-07T23:15:00.000+02:00

Yesterday, France played against New Zealand in the Rugby World Cup. In school on Friday, I took a poll of the class to see how many people thought France would win. About two people raised their hand. Everyone else said France didn't have a chance, that they suck, that they shouldn't even try, that it would be an embarassment, that they weren't even going to bother watching because New Zealand, a very strong team, would obviously win.

Well whatdja know...France won! Of course, everyone at the bar I was at went ballistic, jumping on the tables and chanting the electric guitar tune of "Seven Nation Army" from the White Stripes (Why? I have no idea. It's like their fight song or something). Bunch of bandwagon fans. Nobody had faith and France ended up winning after all.

It was a fun experience being in France for any sort of a world cup just to see how the French celebrate. They don't celebrate to the rate that us Gators did when we won all the championships (the first, second and third time). An hour after the game, everything had settled and Valence felt like a ghost town. If it was us Gators, we'd be out there till the cops came out to shoo us off the streets. I guess the French are more discreet in that aspect.

Shiz

2007-10-06T19:04:00.000+02:00

I've officially been welcomed to France by the elegant elderly women walking their pretentious poodles. How?

I finally stepped on dog doo doo on the sidewalk today. Poo!

The Cold Hard Truth

2007-10-06T10:29:00.000+02:00

My first week of teaching is officially over. Because I have so many different classes (12 hrs. a week, 1 hour per class, never the same students), I've pretty much done the same thing with all of them. I've asked them to tell me, without reservations, what their true image of America is. We then would discuss the stereotypes and determine whether there was truth to any of them or if they had a skewed view of us. Here's what they thought:

1. Americans are fat. Everyone only eats McDonald's.
2. America is dangerous and there are gangs everywhere.
3. All Americans encounter celebrities on a regular basis.
4. America is a rich country, but there's a lot of rich people and a lot of poor people.
5. Tony Parker is famous in America too, isn't he?
6. High school is just like the movie "High School Musical" and pom-pom girls (what they call cheerleaders) rule the school.

As far as Miami is concerned, here is their image of my city:

1. Everyone walks around in bikinis.
2. Miami is a surfer town.
3. There are alligators everywhere.
4. The only thing to do in Miami is go to the beach.
5. Miami and Malibu are the same thing, or at least on the same coast.

Their image of the US is either really negative or really glamorous. They either hate us or think we're cool because a large part of their entertainment (movies, music, TV shows, etc.) comes from America. I broke down each stereotype down for them and explained how things really are. I think they learned a lot and maybe even have a bit more respect for Americans, maybe.

And the french Tony Parker is only famous in the states because he married Eva Longoria.

I Am NOT Happy....

2007-10-03T16:25:00.000+02:00

... about this:

John Mayer and Minka Kelly (that bitch)

I leave the country for a minute and he's already cheating on me! Men are scum!

Parliamo italiano!

2007-10-01T23:47:00.001+02:00

I'm so happy that I live with an Italian. I don't know if I've mentioned it yet but I live with a 24-year-old Italian girl named Rosangela. She's great! And she's teaching me Italiano. She's never taken a French class--how brave of her to move to a tiny town in France where no one speaks Italian! I'm helping her with her French and she's teaching me Italian. We've made labels for household things in both languages. My favorite word she's taught me is "chocolatini." It means a little piece of chocolate, or a chocolate chip. I also learned to count to 14...the rest of the numbers will come to me soon enough. And of course, I already learned all the bad words as I am reading a book about an American woman in Italy and in one of the chapters, she's at a soccer match and the profanities coming out of a fan's mouth sound like sweet-nothings to her--music to her ears. So I read that part of the book aloud to Rosangela but she wasn't very pleased. Oops.

I hope to get pretty decent and then visit Italy with her. She has invited me to Bari (the town she's from in the south of Italia) for Christmas so maybe I'll come. Andiamo a Italia! Prontissimo! Ooh that reminds me of something else I learned from her: they answer the phone saying, "Pronto?" Everything sounds so lovely in Italian. :)

The Golden Arches

2007-10-01T16:14:00.000+02:00

I committed a huge sin today. An almost-crime. Something I vowed to NEVER do…..

I ate at a McDonald’s in France.

I don’t even like MacDo (as they call it here) and I never eat it back at home, unless there’s absolutely nothing else. But I had just finished biking (yes, biking—did I mention that I got a free bike? :) miles and miles, over hills and under bridges, and I was very thirsty. And all I could see on the horizon were those damned golden arches, so I asked for a large Coke. And then I felt dumb just asking for a drink so I ordered Chicken McNuggets, too. They were like, gourmet chicken nuggets. Geez, does fast food also have to taste better here? AND they brought the food to my table and told me “bon appetit” upon setting the tray in front of me.

This McDonald’s is behind one of the schools I’m teaching at, and I saw that there’s free unlimited WiFi there. So it looks like I’ll be revisiting McDonald’s very soon, ugh.

Snapshots

2007-09-30T09:39:00.000+02:00

WiFi!

2007-09-30T00:50:00.000+02:00

I found a free WiFi connection!!!!!!!!!!!!

I moved into the apartment for the assistants today and I'm living with a very nice southern Italian named Rosangela. In a little corner of my new room, we found a WiFi connection. It doesn't work all the time, but it seems to work well during the weekends and at night. Wireless internet is really a luxury. I really don't have the patience for using Windows 98 in the school and on top of that, using a French keyboard (QWERTY is a stranger here).

So if you've got Skype or Windows Live Messenger, give me your username so I can add you and we can do a web chat!

Fingers crossed, I'll try to add some pictures now....

I'm Deeply in Love

2007-09-24T15:31:00.000+02:00

Have you ever felt so happy you want to drop to your knees; weep and kiss the dirty ground? This is how I felt on Saturday. I went to Annie and Regis' house to celebrate the birthdays of one of their daughters (Marie) and grandson (Ludo). Just the fact that they invited me to such an intimate family gathering touched my heart. After the feasting and the champage and the Chinese liqueur (Litchi I think i's called?) and the decadent gateaux(cakes), we took a field trip to the countryside. My goodness. I can't imagine anything in the world being more beautiful than the French countryside. We drove through the greenest mountains, herds of French cows, sunflower fields, little random houses with blue shutters and flower beds spilling from their windows...I wish I could upload pictures but these computers are too slow!

I am so happy here. I don't think I knew this before, but I had a void that needed to be filled--and now it is. I seriously got teary-eyed like 10 times because of the overwhelming joy I felt inside. I'm in love--with a country!!!Who would've thought such a thing was possible...

Climbing Possibilities

2007-09-22T15:41:00.000+02:00

I mentioned to Regis that I would like to rock climb while I’m here, whether in a gym or in the Vercors (the mountains nearest to Romans, you can see them in the horizon) and he told me he knew of two professors here that are in a climbing club. We tracked one of these professors down with Regis explaining to every teacher we came across in the hall that I was the new assistante d’anglais américaine from les Etats-Unis (the US) that lives in the petit appartement in the batîment administratif (administrative building). He also must always also mention that I’m from Miami, where there’s beaches and sand, and that because of this, I hate skiing. Then he explains that I am an excellent hardcore climber (untrue, I’m just intermediate and I’m not even that brave) and that we’re looking for so-and-so professor. Each of these little stops to talk to the teachers and make introductions take about 5-10 minutes. So everyone basically knows my whole life story. I think I’ve met the entire faculty (over 50 profs) in a matter of two days.

The point is, we finally found this rock climber teacher and he proposed that I join their rock climbing club. They get together every Monday and Wednesday night to climb in the rock gym of a middle school that’s about 5 minutes walking distance from the school where I’m living. Because it’s in a middle school, I thought it would just be a wall with one or two courses but I went to check it out with Regis and it’s BIG! It’s about half the size of GRG in Gainesville, pretty legit. And on Fridays, they take trips to the mountains to do REAL outdoor climbing!!! I’m SO excited to start climbing with them on Monday, which I haven’t done since the end of August. It’s just like 80 euros for a membership to the club for the whole year and it includes all the rendez-vous. Today, Regis introduced me to the president of the club and he seems excited to have me on board. He says they often get together on the weekends too and go out, so I’ll have new friends. I hope there are a lot of hot French guys climbing without their shirts on, haha. Woo!

Bonjour France! We Meet Again

2007-09-22T15:39:00.000+02:00

Wow. The stereotype that the French are snooty and rude couldn’t be any more untrue. Here in the south of France, I’ve found the most hospitable people I’ve ever met. Annie and Regis (the main English teacher at the Lycée du Dauphiné and her husband) will literally drop everything they’re doing in order to help me out with whatever I need.

Regis picked me up from the train station and carried my VERY heavy suitcase all the way to the car. Our first stop before going home was a boulangerie (bakery) which you could smell from several hundred feet away. (Or shall I say meters? Stupid metric system I need to get used to.) We walked in and I almost passed out. It smelled sooooooooooo gooooood and I was starving. He asked me what kind I liked and I asked for pain au chocolat avec des aumandes (chocolate croissant topped with almonds). Everything there is so delicately made. Definitely going back there again sometime this week.

On the way home, Regis gave me a little tour of the city, which isn’t as small as I thought. There are about 35,000 inhabitants (yes, UF has almost double the amount of students) but since everything is so close together in Europe, it looks bigger and busier. The town is cute, it has its charm. You can see the Vercors mountains on one side and on the other side, smaller mountains whose name I’ve forgotten.

As I was the first foreign assistant to arrive, I’ve really received star treatment. I’ve eaten at Annie and Regis’ every day, and she cooks yummy yummy food. I slept at her house the first day and met her super cute I-wanna-eat-you-up grand children, Anya (3) and Ludo (6), as well as one of her daughters, who also teaches at the school. Annie took me to this store which would be the equivalent of Walmart to buy things for my place, and Regis has taken me everywhere else-to get a cell phone, to the tourism office to get maps, to visit the other schools I’ll be teaching at and meet the teachers, etc. I love them. It’s like they have no life but to be at my service, which I don’t ask them to do-they just do it because they like to help. And I’m VERY thankful. I feel like I’ve been so blessed to have everything fall perfectly into place.

I was supposed to live in this apartment in the dorms that’s reserved for three assistants but because it was not yet ready when I arrived, they gave the studio apartment on the second floor of the administration building that was reserved for the Italian assistant. Score! My own apartment. J It’s got two closets, a toilet room, a bathroom (which also had that fountain thing to wash your privates that I haven’t seen in years, what’s it called?), and then a big room with a bed, desk and chair, three big windows, little table with another two chairs, refrigerator (a luxury in France, trust me), and a little plug-in burner to cook. And the Mexican assistant that lived here before me left a mountain bike (very handy), a bottle of wine (even more handy), an inflatable bed (wanna visit?), and other miscellaneous things. When I decorate the flat a bit more, I’ll post some pics.

Also, Annie invited me to go to one of her English classes, which had about 10 students. When I told them I was from Miami, they all looked at me wide-eyed as in "then what the heck are you doing HERE?!?" They seemed nice, I hope I get assigned to that class. And they’re my age, too, so I can relate to them and vice versa. I’ll explain later why kids my age are in a high school. But briefly, this school is also a technical school for several subjects so after they finish high school, they can continue studies in whatever field they want to work in but they don’t get a diploma, just the knowledge.

Internet usage is limited for me, but I’m working on possibly getting WiFi installed at my place. It’s not looking too good though so I have to use the school computers, which have a firewall that doesn’t allow me to use msn messenger or its equivalents. L

I made it in one piece!

2007-09-19T19:24:00.000+02:00

Ladies and gents, I made it. This town is pretty cute. The train ride through the mountains was beautiful and I had no problems. More later!

Tonight, Tomorrow

2007-09-18T04:17:00.000+02:00

Tonight, I spent $156 in Walmart on nothing.
Tonight, I shared my last Dominican meal with my family. It was sancocho.
Tonight, I spoke to many loved ones and said my goodbyes.
Tonight, (or rather Today...don't wanna mess up the flow) I sweat like a pig outside. And I'll probably miss that.
Tonight, I packed my bags. (OK, so my mom did most of the work....)
Tonight, I will sleep in my full-sized uber-comfortable bed one last time.
Tonight, I reside in Florida.

Tomorrow, I'll spend a total of 16.5 hours traveling.
Tomorrow, I will set foot in four different countries (USA, UK, Switzerland and France).
Tomorrow, I will probably be cranky and jet-lagged.
Tomorrow, I'll be shivering in 50-degree weather.
Tomorrow, I'll sleep on a plane. Sitting upright.
Tomorrow, I will take a train ride through the Alps and French valleys. That'll be nice.
Tomorrow, I will reside in France.

It's The Final Countdownnnn

2007-08-22T21:22:00.000+02:00

Today has not been good day. In fact, today has been a HORRIBLE day. I went to court to contest a traffic ticket I got for "running" a stop sign and I was declared guilty. But you know what? Who cares! Why?

Because EXACTLY FOUR WEEKS (28 days) FROM TODAY, I'LL BE IN FRANCE! And that stupid rent-a-cop that gave me the ticket will be here, in Gainesville, miserable and fishing for more victims.

I am mentally and emotionally ready to move to France--or so I think. But am I physically ready? Hell no.

Check(less)list of important things that need to be done ASAP:
Find a place to live (no check)
Pick up my visa from miami (no check)
Save up enough money to live without pay for two months (no check)
Contact my school (no check...I'm scared to speak French over the phone!)
Buy a webcam/microphone to communicate with family and friends (no check)
Put togehter cute outfits with matching shoes and accessories (CHECK!)

Lots needs to be done before September 18.