Another Fastforward

I know I had another drop off the face-of-the-blogging-world, So I'm going to do a quick catch up (plus try to blog regularly for the next month)!

When I came back from Christmas break, I wrote a few blogs but
really didn't have much positive things to say. I was close to a breaking point and really wanted to return to the states. So instead of blogging about it, I decided to just power through and focus on spending time with my room mates and distracting myself from being desperately homesick...until my next trip home.

My mom was a big support in helping me through the first week back, plus some. I had horrible jet lag and was sick, which made it unable for me to sleep the first four nights back (even with a double the dose of sleeping pills). My mom sat with me for hours on the phone keeping me calm and trying to talk me to sleep. After a week of talking at all hours of the night/day and across the cont, she decided to come visit me in early February and celebrate her birthday here.

So, Mommy saved the day and came to spend eight whole days with me. We had a lovely, lovely time together. We stayed in a hotel a few blocks from the Arc de Triomphe that was close to the train station to my work; we had wonderful French dinners together and shared a glass of wine at each meal; we warmed up over several café viennois; we read four books together and watched Friends laughing late into the night; and we spent a day in Reims and a relaxing weekend in Tours. We survived the bone chilling wind, a random snow storm and the gray skies. We learned through those chilly days that a little sunshine and blue skies transforms Paris into the magic city we all love and dream of.

It was the perfect mother, daughter trip. She brought home to me and helped me make it through the last dreary days of winter.

A week after my mom left, I got to go home for another school break and spend some much needed time with my fiance. While I was back in Portland, we were able to find the location for our wedding (Oh la chance!!), go snowboarding, celebrate my friends birthday, have dinners with family and friends, and go to a Blazers game! A wonderful two weeks.

Again, I found myself dragging my feet to leave again, but I'm very glad I did (many thanks to my very supportive fiance and family), because I've learned a great deal about myself and inner strength. Many people won't be able to understand why living in Paris is so much more than the glamor of it all but a challenge, but I'll know how much I've concord and grown from the experience. I know I can achieve anything now, and that is priceless to have full confidence in oneself.

A Dream Realized

My whole love for Paris and everything French originated from a book my Dad used to read to me called "This is Paris." It was my Dad who got me interested in the architecture in Paris and led to my desire to learn the language. My Dad and I weren't that close when I was growing up, and I had always dreamed of coming to Paris with him and exploring the streets we used to read about together.

Today I realized that dream. I picked my Dad and Sister up from the airport around 7:30 this morning. Originally, I wasn't supposed to be here because we had a scheduling error and I was going to be in Dublin, Ireland for St. Patty's day when they arrived. I decided to stay and see them instead, and it was worth every penny.

They've only been here for a few hours, and are currently napping, but I couldn't be happier and can't wait to take them for a walk around my neighborhood, La place de la Bastille, and show them the life I've been living here for the last six months.

Amsterdamage

The last weekend, me and two of my room mates plus a friend went to Amsterdam. I have been there once before, but didn't have much time to go out and explore.

We of course checked out the infamous Red Light District and that streets nightly activities. The area has everything from bars, sex shops, hookers in windows to live "shows." It was quite the eye opener, and being that it was just us four girls, we needed a little liquid courage before we stepped into the red zone. While there, we ran into Australian business men on a break from their business trip, bachelor and bachelorette parties and over heard odd conversations. A couple of them being a customer of the legal prostitution saying, "he couldn't even walk right," while exiting the facilities, and another of a couple being turned down by a prostitute for a ménage à trois because she didn't want to "cause problems between them."

I'm sure you can guess the one other "sketchy" activity while in Amsterdam. It is known for it, their "cafes." We might as well been wearing neon bright cardigans with pearls on for how awkwardly we stuck out in there. It was a fun experience but not much to report...except for too much smoke.

The other activities we partook in was visiting the Van Gogh Museum and Ann Frank's house. I enjoyed the Van Gogh Museum but was expecting to see a little more of his famous work. It was really well put together, and tons of information about his life and how his career progressed.

My favorite by far was Ann Frank's house. It was done magnificently. The rooms themselves where they hid are kept empty on request of her father, but have miniature diagrams of how they were set up. I've read her diary and heard her story many times, but the impact of what they went through and how it was to live there really hits you while inside those walls. If you are ever in Amsterdam it is a must see.

Another must is to rent bikes and ride around the town. We had meant to do it early in our trip but ended up renting them on our last day. We also made the mistake of getting them at a random little shop. Our first thirty minuets of riding was a blast, but while going up a little hill Lauren's chain fell off. It took me about twenty minuets and the help of a friendly stranger to finally get it back on...side note you start with it on the back gear and then slowly turn it onto the big one...and we were off again... for about five minuets. I then realized that my back tire had gone completely flat.

Now Amsterdam is not that big of a city, but thirty minuets of riding bikes compared to walking is a big difference in distance plus going in the wrong direction for a little bit lead us to getting back to the store forty minuets later.

We walked in, me holding my oil covered hands up, demanding for a refund of our money. She gladly obliged to refund Lauren but accused me of riding through glass and said I would have to replace the tire! Basically, after several minuets of arguing with her, we said to keep their money but we were NOT paying for a new tire and walked out.

After that it was time to catch our three hour train back to Paris. All and all Amsterdam was a great weekend trip for exploring a smaller city and experiencing a different style of life.

Doctor, Doctor

A few months ago, when I returned from Christmas break, I was having a hard time with the time difference and feeling sick. I decided to venture going to a French doctor.

I took the day off from work, and called my family friend, Monique, to get a referral. She told me to call in and schedule an appointment, but when I did they said they couldn't understand me and hung up! I proceeded to call Monique back and ask what to do. She then told me to go to the Doctor's office and wait till he came back from the hospital and while I was waiting to continue to call his office.

Well, I crawled on down to the metro feeling like crap and rode the thirty minuets there while trying to avoid mid-day creepers....and couldn't find the doctor's office. He ended up finally returning my message and scheduling me for 6:30 that night.

My room mate and I ended up going back together in a taxi, which it took him forever to find the place too! Once there we waited for an hour till he called me back.

Doctor's offices here are nothing like in the states. The waiting rooms are more like a formal living room, and then you are called back into an actual office that has a table, sink and cabinets of medical nic-nacs in a corner.

The doctor didn't speak much English, so I tried my best to explain my soar throat and cough to him in French. He checked it all out and the proceeded to ask me if I had acid indigestion...I said no, but I do have a soar throat. He said, "alright, I'm going to proscribe you some medicine I think will help and you can pick it up at any pharmacy."

I still didn't have my insurance information at the time (nor do I now) so I had to pay on my own...it was a whooping twenty euro, which I could get refunded if I feel the need.
He had explained the meds to me but only understood one of them clearly, but when I got to the pharmacy they described it in more detail. He has prescribed me over the counter Advil and some digestive aids. How this was going to help my soar throat, besides the pain reliever, was beyond me.

Oh and both medications cost six euro all together.

I took the medicines are prescribed and felt better, so maybe he caught onto something I didn't, but I still don't have acid indigestion nor have I ever...

Off To School

I've been here for going on four months, and haven't written a post about work yet. Oh where to start?

I work at Jean Jacques Rousseau ecole primaire (elementary school) in a suburb northwest of Paris called Saint Ouen l'Amoune. I work Monday, Tuesday and Thursday for 12 hours a week, but it takes me an hour and a half to get from my apartment to work. Also, the French take a two hour lunch from 11:30 to 1:30. So, I'm there for about six hours a day.

To get to work, I have a five minute walk to the metro stop, Bastille, take line one to Gare de Lyon, transfer to line 14 to go to Gare Saint Lazare. From there I catch a 45 minute train at 9:27 towards Pontoise, and finally have a ten minute walk to school to arrive at 10:20 a.m. So, I leave my apartment at 8:45 a.m. and get home at 6 p.m. to teach roughly three hours a day plus an hour of prep.

The school it self is rather small and only has seven classes for ages 7-11, and a pre-school for the little munchkins. The students, ages 5-11, are always excited to see me and eager to learn. The teachers on the other hand are not a basket of rainbows and sunshine.

Learning how to teach a class of 25 or explain a lesson plan in English and French or prepping lesson plans has not been the challenge-- working with the teachers has been the hardest part of this job. They're cold, non-communicative and absent. They're not the friendliest sort to work with, they have no problem forgetting to inform me of changes, canceled classes or that I exist in general, and they pretend to not understand my French when I'm telling them something they don't want to hear.

They're also extremely rude to the children. Some of their lest harsh teaching skills would have most teachers from America fired and with a lawsuit on their hands. They scream and yell at the children when they're noisy; they grab them by their shirts when one is talking out of line or misbehaving; call them unintelligent; and make them stand in the back corner of the classroom, facing the wall, as a punishment...just to name a few.

All and all they terrify me and trying to speak with them is near impossible with my nervous, stumbling French. So, I sit in the library, blissfully alone, reading books and doing lesson plans during my three and half hour breaks.

Paris is...Paris

Over the holiday break, I had tons of people asking me how it was to live in Paris, and not too many were thrilled when I told them it was hard.

Paris has this blown up image that it is some magical place that when you come here there will be nothing but butterflies and unicorns dancing you down the street. But it's not like that.

Paris is like any other big city-- there are too many people, dirty streets, crowded public transportation and sketch balls.

It doesn't make the daily three hour commute to work any more special, the blistering cold wind any easier to tolirate, four room mates in a two bedroom apartment a picnic in July or the creep who stole your phone or touched himself while looking at you on the metro your best friend.

Paris is...well...just Paris.

And don't get me wrong, it does have many positives to it: the history, culture, food, language and much more. But that doesn't mean everyday I've spent here has been a royal ball with glass slipper and all. It has been a huge learning experience into what I want out of life and where I want to be. It has been a challenge, not a vacation.

Catch Up

So, I'm a little behind on my blogs lately...After my last it has
been a whirlwind of activities--here's the low down:

My boyfriend, Nick, came to visit me for two weeks in the end of
November, beginning of December. He surprised me with a very romantic proposal on the kissing bridge, which has the tradition on Valentines day of couples going, kissing and locking a padlock with their names on it to the bridge. I had told him about the bridge (but not about the tradition) and asked him to bring a padlock. It was a surprise what it was for. So, that morning I wrote our initials on it with the date we started dating and the current date. I left the other side blank for him. When we got to the bridge, I offered him the lock to write something on it and went to kiss him. While we were kissing he wrote "will you marry me?" and hooked the ring onto the bridge with the padlock. I went to look at it, looked at him and said "Are you kidding me?!" He was down on one knee, and an American couple was yelling,"OMG!" I said, "Of course."

We also went to Oslo, Norway (his country of origin) for a weekend; where we learned that yes, it is the most expensive city in the world, but also very clean and beautiful. He also helped me and my room mates host a Thanksgiving dinner here-- where for many Frenchies, it was their first.

Two weeks after he left, I returned home for the holidays after almost three months of being away. During those two weeks we managed to squeeze in a plethora of activities.

It decided to snow in Paris two days before I was supposed to leave. So, when it was time for my plane to sore off into the great blue skies towards Amsterdam...we were delayed on the tarmac for two hours because the weather had caused some mechanical thing to freeze.
By the time we landed in Amsterdam, my connecting flight to Portland was taking off...without me on board. I thus began the fight for a flight home with a few thousand other stranded people. I was lucky, I only had to wait in line for a few hours to talk with a flight agent. They first rescheduled me for a flight for the next day that wouldn't get me home till after five p.m. west coast time and three hours after our engagement party would have started. The news of that caused me to lose my cool, and I started to cry. After explaining the situation, she told me I had the option to go on stand-by for a flight to Vancouver B.C. and then a flight to Seattle. She offered to hold my flight for the next day too, so I had nothing to lose.

I held a three hour vigil at the gate while on stand-by along with 25 other people. Somehow, I was the first one to get a ticket on the flight. So after about six hours of what would have been into my original flight home, I boarded a plane-- thinking the worst was over.

When we landed in Vancouver B.C., I got to go through American costumes because I was taking an immediate flight to Seattle. Well I was delayed there because I didn't have the next boarding pass and couldn't get through security. Once they managed to get that for me, I was delayed at customs because one of my bags was missing and they wouldn't let me through without it. After sitting for a half-an-hour (I had an hour layover, and had already been delayed at security for 20mins) they managed to get me a missing bag report and let me through. Even though I ran thirty gates, I still missed the last flight to Seattle.

Next step? No, not a hotel. Mission get on U.S. soil.

Nick was already on his way to the SeaTac airport, and I didn't want to wait another night. In Canada if you are over 21 you can rent a car, and that's exactly what I did. It was a little tricky cause I would be crossing the boarder and then needed to be 25. So, I had to pay an underage fee for that, and going across the boarder was interesting too. The agent was a little curious as to why: first, I was driving from Canada and second didn't have any luggage after being in Paris for three months.

By the time I met Nick in Blaine, Washington at the International Motel-- I had been traveling for 26 hours, had been in four different countries and crossed four different customs. Also, ended up going to four different airports: Paris, Amsterdam, Seattle and Portland (had to stop at SEA and PDX to look for my luggage).

Even though my luggage was lost for five days and getting home was a challenge, I had a wonderful holiday vacation. We celebrated our engagement, had four Christmases with all our families, learned how to snowboard and had New Year's with friends.

Coming back to Paris was definitely a challenge for me. It's hard to leave family and loved ones so soon.