Not a fan of January

The holidays have come and gone...my 2 weeks in the States went by as fast as ever, though leaving me with such a good feeling. New Year's eve in Paris, then my last 2 weeks of class...to finish my first semester. And yet here I am, mid-January, and wanting sunshine, a beach, another trip, time with my grandma, a fireplace, a night out with Leah....something. I shy away from anything too sad sounding on this blog...but Jenna Sims-Gray is my role model of honesty...and so I am choosing to just put it out there. She says that's what blogs are for anyhow. Besides...no life is roses all the time! The low moaning of something missing, something not quite being attained. And I ask myself if it's the season (maybe I am looking for roses!), the time of year, too much time indoors...and all the much harder questions going way beyond the weather. The January-February funk (good term, mom!). I need spring. I just bought a comfy chair that's being delivered to my apt. tomorrow....a 1930s refurbished leather beauty...old and worn and full of character and experience well beyond my years. I've been thinking about one--and looked at them at the flea market--for nearly a year. This was the time I needed to buy it. So tomorrow night I will be cuddled in my chair...with the book I'm reading...hoping that little by little the funk will fade with each espresso and candle lit. A good laugh, Tewfik's arms, a nice meal, a fun night in the café. But in the meantime...until spring inspires, here are some photos from the past month of so!

To be reminded

I just read my brother Jon's blog posting about how running affects your state of mind and connects you in time and space with where you are. I totally agree! I even reflected back to when I did morning walks...seeing only street sweepers and the occasional early-motivated business man, cutting through the narrow cobblestone streets of Paris, past churches and boulangeries baking bread, through parks and gardens. I loved it. But there's something about this city that moves one into the rhelm of night, moreso than morning. Despite morning being my favorite time of day...I now associate mornings with waking up and looking east from my bedroom window, the sun illuminating the acres of fields...mornings are walks along the lake in Milwaukee, the sun also rising over that immense body of water, he wings of the art museum going up...early mornings are leaving my apartment in Chicago at 6:30 before any light of day with my travel mug of coffee and two pieces of buttered toast...getting blinded by the sun finally on the overpass of the Dan Ryan heading south just past downtown Chicago.
But here in Paris, mornings are gray, often rainy, nobody is moving before 8am, you are lucky to find a coffee before 7:30, and while still inspiring to some degree, it's nothing compared to the nights here. Night-time in Paris IS the reason this is the "city of lights". It's breathtaking...crossing the oldest bridge, Pont Neuf, looking across the Seine at the Eiffel Tower and the illuminated gold dome of the Institute de France...the glittering reflections on the river's surface. Not to mention the night-time energy. People are everywhere, they are happy to be going out, as opposed to going to work...they are with friends and they look beautiful--dressed for dinners and drinks and maybe even dancing. There is less noise, or at least it's muffled, and the street lamps cast shadows on the cobbestone streets and everything looks clean and somehow museum-like.
And so while I sometimes still jog through my city, these days I discover Paris either on bike or by night. During the strikes, I was on the bike going everywhere I usually went by underground metro. And what a delight! I discovered that Paris has a small zoo--"menagerie"--that there is a park leading right down to the river, I discovered the most quaint streets ever on the Island of St. Louis (the smaller one in the center of the city)...that there is an old Parisian diner called "le cérise de Paris" (the cherry of paris...think of the rhyme when pronouncing Paris the french way!). And otherwise I just walk. I'm not much of a jogger. I do it...for the obvious cliché reasons of weight loss and body image, but I've never loved it. But I agree whole-heartedly with my brother. Knowing your surroundings--or rediscovering them--is quite an amazing energy-boost. Moreover, it reminds me of why I am here. Why I've chosen this city.

homeward bound

an old message from my mom that i never erased, a song that my dad used to sing while playing his guitar when i was young, a smell that reminds me of my mom and dad's closet...a photo of my brothers and i when we were young, or just thinking of the layout of our old house, my african bedspread and a book that i've taken with me everywhere i've lived since 1999. i am needing home. memories and nostalgia, seeing photos of jenna's new baby and getting an email from a teacher who i worked with at LE who now lives in Vegas...my old friend Sheila is leaving Milwaukee. nothing remains unaltered. and yet some things remain untouched in my memory, triggered by just the right stimulus. change, it's the natural order of the universe. of course, this is what is supposed to happen, and thank goodness that it does...but sometimes it just feels like a lot (not too much, just a lot) going in so many directions, like nothing is as simple as it used to be. and yet it never felt simple at that time either. the isolation of memory is both beautiful and detrimental, allowing me to think that a different time and place could be recovered, that just singing "be not afraid" to my brothers at night would bring me back to a time when getting my pony to stop eating grass when i led her to the pasture would be my biggest challenge. so i need to go home, to be back in plymouth, to be surrounded by my family, to recuperate a bit of that which i am missing. it's not the same. nothing is, in fact. but i can take the bits and pieces and forge a new memory which will carry me back to paris and sustain me until the next time i fly across the atlantic.

La grève

This is the 4th day in the past month now that the public transportation workers have gone on strike. I can't make sweeping judgments about how ridiculous their demands are (though they ARE ridiculous!)...but I can make sweeping statements about how absolutely annoying this situation is! At first I was amused. "Snow days"...a great excuse to have a day to do whatever I want. Since my school is in the northern banlieu of Paris, there are no trains to take me there. Okay, cool. But now it's just too much. Maybe it's because of the truly frigid weather that we're now experiencing...or maybe it's because I really do like my classes (and I know we are going to have to make them up anyhow...usually on Saturdays!)...or maybe because, like today, we are all fighting each other...because collectively "we" have become hoards of people who are actually getting in massive lines to access the "1 train out of 6" that is actually running (not to mention that you'd be squashed like a sardine if you actually waited in that crazy line to get into one of those train cars!). I'm not clausterphobic, but I decided to walk. And it is cold. And I'm carrying my computer, and even in the metro stops the escalators aren't running. Like they're trying to find every cruel way to make people suffer. (So we pick up a banner and strike with them!?) So here we are...those of us who rely on public transportation....cutting our losses so that the train workers can maintain their retirement and enormous benefits package after 37 years of governmental service. (The bulk of the other "fonctionnaires" have to work 40 years...but running the trains is more taxing. Clearly.)
On top of that, even if i COULD have gotten to my school today, it was blocked by students! I would not have been allowed in. Why? What are they objecting to? Not sure on this one...because it seems to me they are just jumping the gun on ANOTHER strike already planned for Tuesday...a strike for ALL state employees...And oh yes, all professors are state employees. So class has already been canceled, in advance, for Tuesday. My professor will not be there. But the rental bikes are in full action. Everybody is getting more exercise. Or like my friend who has been stuck in Paris since Tuesday night and finally had to get home today, he had to shell out 45€ to get home by taxi. So, who am I to say that nobody is profiting!?

French countryside

My recent trip to the Durdonge region of France (southwest, en route to Bordeaux) reminded me to what extent I remain a country girl at heart. After a 5-hour train ride through the French countryside, looking out over rolling hills and little villages, rivers and stone bridges, we arrived in the small city of Le Buisson. A shuttle bus was waiting at the train stop, and he took us to the chateau where we'd stay for the next 3 days...celebrating the wedding of Steph and Sly, two dear friends from the Café Latin family. We arrived to find those two, along with the guys from the café--Victor, David, Yann, Danny, and Guy--and Steph's brother and his girlfriend and friend. The chateau was covered in vines already turning bright red for the fall, a series of small out-buildings surrounded the main one, all in yellow-white stone, the back side of the chateau overlooked an enormous valley, mostly forest, with the wide Durdonge river cutting through it, the hillside opposite spackled with homes and farms and small field openings. Stunning.

The guys fired up the grill, us girls set the enormous table under the tree overlooking the valley and opened bottles of wine, and we cooked out a lunch...followed by lounging in the sun around the pool. That night we all re-convened wearing masks. Yes, it was a masked ball...started with champagne outside the chateau, the cold country air cutting through our silk dresses. We had a dinner, followed by a dance with the rest of the crew who'd arrived...about 60 or so...mostly all of the young friends.

Saturday was the civil ceremony at the courthouse in the village. It's quite a beautiful (and obligatory) tradition in France; everyone assembles in the courthouse, the bride and groom are dressed up (the bride wearing a hat, of course), as is everyone else, and the mayor reads the official statues the govern the parameters of marriage in France. It's much more personal than it sounds. Following the ceremony, we all walked in the sun through the small village to the quaint and beautiful hotel at the bottom of the hill by the church. Awaiting were tables of pastries and tartes and chocolates, and of course, glasses of champagne and wine. We sat on the terrace and in the garden, in the sun, visiting and mingling until our stomachs were growling and we decided we needed to return to the chateau to fire up the grills. We all changed out of our clothes, the guys started making burgers, and we spent the rest of the late afternoon, once again, by the pool. It was then time to get ready for the religious ceremony. We all reconvened outside of the chateau, were given candles, and as the sun was setting across the valley, the ceremony took place. Stephanie was absolutely beautiful, not to mention incredibly strong, and we all held our candles and listened to the priestess and the two of them exchange vows. We all put our candles on the rock wall...champagne was popped, and two circus men entertained us with music, juggling, dog tricks, transporting one back in time 100 years when this type of entertainment was common faire for chateau gatherings.

When the champagne and hors d'oeuvres were consumed, we moved once again into the other building for dinner. The dinner started at the same time as the France-England rubgy semi-final...so dinner started with half of the group singing along to the England national anthem (Steph is British)...the other half following up with "Les Marseilles", the French national anthem (Sly is French). The French lost...but dinner was animated by the game and loads of conversation and the consumation of fois gras (a spécalité of that region), stuffed guinea fowl, cheese plates, and of course, loads of desserts. Sly and Steph started the dancing, and once we got started, we didn't stop until 7am!

Sunday involved a big brunch at the chateau for all the guests, and then nearly everybody left, except some of Steph's closest English friends and all of us from the café. So we changed into swim suits again, David found tennis raquets, we set up badmitten, played next to the pool, then Victor and Greg pulled out a bow and arrow...as Steph's friend Fogg said, "We are living Great Gatsby". Yes, exactly. It was increadible. Pitchers of beer and snacks and the sun and bathing suits ( or just bras and underwear....we're all pretty comfortable family at this point!)...until the sun was setting and it was getting cool. The chateau owner, who'd been cranking out the most amazing food the whole weekend, then prepared a dinner at the large dining room table. We all sat around the enormous kitchen fireplace (you could honestly STAND 8 grown men inside the fireplace)...drank an appératif...and then assembled for a 4-course French dinner. We all stumbled into the living room afterwards and passed out on couches and chairs watching a movie. With the exception of Steph and Sly, we all left together on Monday afternoon. Though separated with different tickets, we all assembled in the same train car, traded magazines and candy bars, retelling stories from the weekend and trying to catch a little sleep.

The weekend could not have been more beautiful. I am so happy for Sly and Steph, as they are so clearly in love and have the support of so many people. And the weekend just confirmed for me, once again, how lucky I am to truly have this loving, fun, and sincere family-outside-my-family. And, the girls kept joking with me...saying that they weren't going to leave me there, no matter how many times I said, "Oh, I could definitely live here." And I meant it! The freshness, the clean air, the starry nights, nature and simplicity of life...even the sight of cows and crops and bales of hay...I was SO in my element. For many, many reasons.

Lisbon

My good friends, Sly and Steph, already had their wedding 2 weekends ago...and so there are stories and pictures I must post from that. BUt FIRST, I have to back up to the end of Sept. when all of us girlfriends went to Lisbon, Portugal, to celebrate Stephanie's bachelorette party. Hen weekend, as they call it. We flew there on a Thursday evening, arrived at our 4-bedroom, 3-bathroom, beautiful-terraced apartment, went our for traditional Portugese food, stumbled upon a reggae bar...and then got lucky with a beautiful day of sun (and caïpevoskas) on the beach...and Steph's British friends joined us Friday evening...so we were an entourage of 12 going to dinners and clubs...enjoying our apartment terrace and dancing until dawn. It was really incredible. I'll just let the pictures tell the rest...

Snow Day and Gentines

No, we don't actually ever get snow days in Paris, so the Parisiens have come up with their own excuse to not work from time to time. It's called a transportation strike! And it's going on today! So I'm home from school...tried to find an open library to do some work, but with no transportation other than my feet and a bike (which are really hard to find today...everyone is on Paris's rent-a-bike system!), I wasted 2 hours, only to find signs on EVERY library. "Pérterbations à cause de la grève." Expect to be perterbed. Well, I'm not perterbed. I'm just enjoying the day!

And now I can take a moment to catch up on internet business. I've fallen behind on all forms of communication since starting my courses last week. It's going to be like that from here on out, I think.

So...the Cousins Gentine were here a few weeks ago! Kristin, Nicci, Shelly, and Leah...girls time in France...husbands and kids at home...and it was really just so enjoyable. We walked and walked wherever we felt like going, stopped for lunch, for shopping, for photos, sometimes in front of monuments that I couldn't explain...ate amazing dinners and even had a Gentine family dinner! Boris Gentine and his wife, Anne Caroline and her husband...and us. Bringing the French branches together with those of the American side. Really really cool. Morning croissants and scarf hunting and shoe hunting and "not eating dessert"...and a fabulous final dinner overlooking the city of lights. It was really special. I am so thankful that they were able to come...thankful to their husbands for making it possible!...and happy that I had the opportunity to share my life here with my family.

Roots

The Gentines of the USA have now outnumbered the Gentines of France. Yes, we're the only "Gentines" who exist...so it's rare, as I'm learning, to find more of us. Well, more of us in France. But...thanks to facebook (which is also a recent obsession of sorts)...I found a Boris Gentine and a Pierre Gentine. Contacted both of them...yeap, we're all from the Alsace region of France...they knew of the Gentine group that left in the mid 1800s during all of the ongoing wars in that region between France and Prussia...knew that this group settled in Wisconsin. Pierre knew that there was a "cheese factory" involved.

So both were really responsive to my emails...we went back and forth...and just this past Thursday I met Boris for a drink. He's amazing. Quite simply... And it was so fun to recount stories and put things together...shared the family tree with him, which he's going to pass on to his dad and uncle...and I learned that André Gentine is the premiere ear surgeon in France...that Pierre is going to MIT to study water science...that the "Joseph" name has continued in nearly every branch of the tree...including Boris's 2-year old son! So I am responsible now for organizing a dinner with him and his wife, Anne Caroline and Fab...(my other distant cousin...who Boris doesn't know)...and some friends. He lives just north of me...and it's a pretty amazing feeling to know that I have family here who is willing to help me out if I run into any problems or need questions answered. Or just need to call technical assistance with my cable box! And we'll meet up with Pierre when he's home from school in Dec. Pretty darned amazing.
(The attached photos are of the area where our ancestors lived...and the house of Boris's family...which is almost a mirror image of the one my mom and I visited, in the neighboring city, belonging to my great-great-great grandfather before he immigrated to the States!)

I also have found a surrogate uncle here on my street. A 65-year old Israelien man named Dov...born in Casablanca and grew up on a Kibbutz in central Israel...and is now here on rue St. Sauveur. We met in the laundromat...just started talking about the price of American t-shirts...and then continued to run into each other in the street...took a coke or coffee or two together at the café across the street where the cook's window looks into mine and we wave and say hi to each other... So today we had a lunch date...ate Italian and toasted in Hebrew and then returned to the café across the street to have a coffee and say hi to everyone there. He has an interesting story. And some Sunday he's going to take me to his favorite Israelian restaurant in the Marais (heart of the Jewish quarter)...

And besides all that...I am OFFICIAL as a graduate student at Paris 13! The registration process was surprisingly simple...everyone was so nice and I now have my student card, my "certificat de scolarité" and I register for my classes in the beginning of Oct. It feels quite surreal...I am in the French system...a place I never imagined I'd be had you asked me even last year! And I am consuming novels this summer like I haven't consumed in years...African novels mainly...though I just started a Turkish one several days ago. It all feels quite exactly as it should be.

Ode to Dundee

Why shouldn't she have the spotlight? She wasn't my childhood dog. Charlie gets that honor. She was never our best behaved dog. London takes that prize. But she is most certainly the most affectionate. She will sleep by my bedside when I stay at my dad's. She will lay outside the bathroom while I get ready. And only when I am ready (even if it means going half-way down the stairs several times, thinking I'm following, only to turn around and return), she will accompany me downstairs. She has evaded intestinal problems, had a near-miss with cancer, and has to have her food poured on the carpet before she'll eat it (discovered when she almost starved herself to death). She's a finicky one. And I'm not a "dog person"...but I sure am happy that Dundee is there each time I go home.

Tichionana

Really, where do I start? A delightful trip up to Lake Geneva, being a part of Auden's first experience putting her head underwater. Having a day of non-stop conversation in the streets of Boulder with Jon...a girl's day with Molly...endless back-deck conversations and the LoDo experience...our Estes Park adventure....and Estes Park again...and again...horesback riding in aqua socks. Time on the pier at Cyrstal Lake and kyacking...Sargento BBQ at Lou's. And Chicago. It only gets better with each trip back. An unexpected view of Wrigley Field, bar-hopping and making friends. And more friends. Fabulous food and wine and diner breakfasts with free coffee refills...making the wedding dance mix in the midst of chaos. Eye make-up and shopping and St. Patrick's basilica downtown. Bagpipers and oh so many sexy Scotsmen in kilts...daggers and champagne and brie-filled philo pastries...Scottish dancing...spinning followed by Beyoncé..."Do you fancy a dance?"...foreign accents...Being in the American minority, perhaps. Being at the singles table. Terrible bars turned into fantastic bars and continued dancing until all eye makeup was gone and then all of us were gone. And back to Wisconsin. Porch time and pool time and painting time. Chester's drive-in and Lola's on the Lake...pitching practice in the rain. Cathrene's arrival...playing softball with the class of '96...pitchers of beer and going out with the high school gang...another trip to Chicago and an unforgettable night out...kidnapping Leah to Plymouth...sitting on the sunny porch overlooking the fields...blanching, skinning, canning peaches, singing at the top of our lungs and making fresh pie...throwing a dinner party...Nic and Paula, Josh and I, Cathrene and Leah, we overtook the adult's table. I don't want to talk about saying good-bye. Milwaukee time with Mom and Josh... dinner and African literature conversation with dad and Lou and Michele...finally finding the shuttle bus in Milwaukee. I don't want to talk about saying good-bye. But see you at Christmas.

From both sides now

It's my favorite Joni Mitchell song. And I can't quite put my finger on its significance right now, but this song pops up in my life at some key times. And makes so much sense. Maybe it's being back in Paris again after another trip home...and it was harder than normal to say good-bye. "Well something's lost, but something's gained in living every day." I guess it's the humbling notion that, even when everything seems so "on"--in this case, I was accepted at the Master's program here in Paris...the ducks are in a line, and I feel certain that it's exactly what I should be doing--even then, and perhaps especially then, I don't have it all figured out. The choices, good and good. The places, fantastic and fantastic. The friends, amazing and amazing. So now what? Is it a gut feeling? Is it faith? Is it the belief that everything happens for a reason...that once again, I might never figure out?
"I guess this is the price we pay for living in a world with so much worth believing in."

Only in France

I learned two great things yesterday. First, a ripped stomach is called a "tablet de chocolat"...yes a chocolate bar. (Though only in America...or Germany...would such a ripped stomach be a "6-pack"...) And in giving a lesson on degrees of temperature: hot, warm, cool, cold, frigid...my student made a shocked face when I said "frigid." "You use this frequently?" he demanded. Yes, of course. He laughed...and said, cautioning that it was awkward for him to explain to a woman, that "frigid" in French is a "maladie," a true illness. It's a woman who does not take pleasure "in this life." Read between the lines. Must have chocolate and pleasure. Welcome to France.

(Image: Miss.tic. Artist and poet who puts her stenciled images and messages all over Paris!)

Back in the USA

I met Leah in the Chicago airport, we shared a glass of wine, ran to our plane, and thus started our California adventure. We call it World Tour. Back in 1999 in the sweaty town of Triangle, Zimbabwe, Leah, Stephanie, and I took an evening walk while the sun was setting over the low-veld. We vowed that, as we got older, we wouldn't stop travelling together. We wanted to see the world together. And two years later we made it to New Zealand...then had a bit of a hiatus until last year we were all in Paris together. This year it was California. Steph lives in Altadena (in the foothills of the San Gabriels just north of Pasadena), so it was the perfect destination, and the perfect opportunity to spend time with her daughter Auden--Leah and my god-daughter. Auden is amazing, and is sure to grow up a rock star...whether its in music or politics! We completely took advantage of the LA area--beach, hiking, farmer's market, flea market at Rose Bowl stadium, great home-made dinners and nights out over jerk pork and sangria or mediterranian goodness. We also road-tripped up the coast, camping our way along! Bougie campers, we laughed...showing up at ranger stations in Steph's Volvo, wearing skirts and hoop earings...eating our brie, fresh bread, and chicken sausages. And it couldn't have been better to sleep in a tent every night, either listening to the ocean crash or the stream trickle through the redwood forest in which we stayed two nights in Big Sur. We lunched and picniced and drank wine at night over marvelous dinners...cooked over the fire once, talked sex and politics over the fire the other nights. We sat in hot springs, soaked in the stars, marvelled at the beauty around us, walked on deserted beaches in the morning and found quirky breakfast cafés. We broke open a water spicket, created a geysur, protected a seal, ran from overly-friendly squirls, discovered that beer nuts are gross, that rosé lasts without a cork for nearly 24 hours, and that we could set up and break-down a tent with record speed. Ah, World Tour 2007 California was super.

Then it was on to Wisconsin. In just over a week, I think we packed in just as much if not more than we had when I was home for several weeks last summer! My brothers and I were together with my dad for father's day--church, golfing and hanging out at Crystal Lake, an amazing dinner and bonfire, joined by my friend John. We hiked with mom in Terry Andre park, followed by the Brewer's game. My grandma turned 98 years, so I got to see most of the cousins and aunts and uncles on the Gentine side. My mom and I got to do a post-mother's day--a full mother/daughter day of pampering and picnicing in Milwaukee...I got to just hang out at my dad's pool and at the lake...went to dad's softball game and bonfire...sat on mom's beautiful screened-in porch and made strawberry jam and hung out with Josh in Milwaukee. It was a whirlwind, but couldn't have been better!

Backing it up...

I've been a blog deserter! I'll be surprised if anybody is still checking this...considering how long I wait. But I draw inspiration from my friend Jenna, an equally sporadic blogger whose page I still look at. And when I do, I'm always glad I haven't given up on her blogging. I'm hoping you give me the same leeway!
To take it in reverse, an awful lot has happened since my mom and Paul were here. For starters, Josh came for a week. He got stuck mostly just with me! Nearly all of my friends were out of town...but it afforded us countless hours of discussion (not to mention the seemingly endless amount of time we waited for a pot of tea in our first-ever tea-house experience!). Hence this photo. And...we were idiots and only took THIS ONE photo. Not even one together. Guess we were too busy talking and walking to stop and capture US in any particular moment.
Then Henderson arrived. We did all kinds of great stuff, as well as everyday stuff together. From drinks to the gym to finding a tanning salon, going to see his friend dressed in drag, hanging out at the café, computer time and getting out navigo metro passes....you name it! But no, we didn't take any photos either (though I specifically remember us talking about doing so!). In the meantime, Aunt Pat and Uncle Steve arrived. This was their first time in Paris, and they couldn't have been more excited...or more open to just experiencing and trying and exploring! Steve marvelled at the small cars, the self-cleaning public toilets, the public system of transportation. He kept saying, "They've really got some things figured out over here!" It was exceptional to spend that time with them! And in that meantime, my cousin Jeff and his wife Michele arrived. We went out for dinner to the Moroccan restaurant...then ended up in the North-African-inspired bar next door. Without expecting it, we were there until after 1:30 am, just talking and telling stories and enjoying the American disco music. Somewhere in there, Leah's sister Mari and her girlfriend arrived...so that was another night of Moroccan fun...and an opportunity to meet another NY friend of hers who freelances and happens to be enjoying 2 months in Paris. So Laura--the GQ, Maxim, Stuff columnist--and I have met up numerous times for dinner, drinks, park time, etc.

And, I most certainly cannot forget two incredible events: My surprise birthday party and the Justin Timberlake concert! First things first, the girls arranged a surprise luao-themed party for me. I arrived to all of them in grass skirts, tropical clothes, and flower lais...the Beach boys were playing and Molly's apartment was full of balloons and paper palm trees; the lamps and stairs were covered with colorful fringe, and skewers of chicken, beef, and vegetables were cooking. Later we indulged in a full-on American (ie--Duncan Hines from the box!) chocolate cake...followed by card games and the inevitable tequilla shots! And yes...then in the beginning of June we all went to see the Justin Timberlake concert. He was incredible!! I don't even know what more to say...except that we had a blast...tried to track he and Timberland down after the concert (Edith was on a mission...and she was dressed the part!). Managed to see Timberland leaving in his car...had no luck, but still found our way to a club afterwards.

One last bit, I also started working in May for a language school. All of our clients are large businesses, and we work directly in their offices to teach (mainly one-on-one) English. I have some great clients, fun young people for the most part. It's fun to be teaching again, meeting new people...and most certainly collecting a paycheck! This also enables me to (for free!) enter the French social security system...meaning that I won't pay another medical bill (or even a perscription medicine!) as long as I'm living here! Somewhere between all of that going on in May, I also tracked down two African literature/postcolonial literature professors--one at Paris III, one at Paris 13. (In France you have to find a prof to direct your thesis before you even apply to a masters program!) Both schools have excellent comparative literature programs with courses enabling me to focus on African literature (written in French and English). I visited the schools, took numerous language exams necessary for entrance in the French system, completed applications and effectively applied to both masters programs. Now I have to wait and see...

And then I left for the United States. To be continued...

Road-tripping in Europe

I am backing up a bit to share some photos and events from my mom and Paul's trip out here for my spring break. They had perfect weather, so we were fully able to enjoy Paris's terraces (that's what they call the part of the café that spills out onto the sidewalk)...walk a lot and sit outside in the courtyard of their hotel, a favorite place for pre or post-dinner cocktails and roudy card games until the bartender has to shut us down. On Easter we went through all the markets to pick up dinner ingredients and wine...then we hung out in the Jewish quarter eating falafals and listening to some non-Jewish group playing Jewish folk songs...and we enjoyed a very normal night just hanging out in my apartment while I cooked a some-what French meal followed up by a cheese plate and patiseries from the bakery.

Then we drove to Germany...to Heidelberg where our hotel was nestled up in a hill which overlooked the Neckar river, a large forest-covered hill, castle ruins, and a mideival stone bridge. The first chancelor of Germany after WWI, we discovered, is part of Paul's family tree' The town was filled with Ebert landmarks! We followed the Neckar river through the valley to get to Stuttegard where we went through the brand-new Mercedes Benz museum. Then on to Baden-Baden...bath-bath...home of roman bath-houses. The people in our hotel were spectacularily witty, and we ate an amazing meal in the hotel...with our waitors teaching us the German word for "Sorry/Excuse me" by bumping into my chair, pouring Paul the largest snifters of cognac...and I think we laughed the rest of the somber crowd right outta there! We wandered Baden-Baden...through the park, along the stream, flowers blooming...then we drove to Frieberg where we were delighted to find a small midieval city with a canal system (that was used for sanitation but today is cleaned up and there's one man in charge of keeping it that way!)...buildings dating back to the 1100s (like our hotel, the oldest in Germany!)...and, finally, we found a beer garden. A real picnic-tabled-filled, trees, gravel, order your beer from the window, right across the cobblestoned street from the local brewery itself sorta place! We ate pretzels and drank beer, ate another wonderful German meal of schnitzl and meat medallions...but somehow nobody served Black forest cake! We were IN the black forest, and couldn't find it. So we went out for a late-night-post-dinner walk to find some. We discovered a maze of old streets and cute nooks and cranies, but no cake. Finally we just went back to the beer garden where the trees were lit up. We made friends with the group of young people next to us...who proceeded to answer nearly every question we'd come up with about Germany.

We drove back to Paris through detouring in and out of the Black forest...finally found some cake which wasn't all that amazing...and arrived back in Paris. That weekend we went wine-tasting, had dinner with Edith and Molly (after which the rucous card-playing occurred!), did some shopping and more wandering, got our fill of fois gras, ate Indian food...and then sadly had to say good-bye. It was SUCH a special trip...and I can't imagine a better way to have spent my spring break! Thanks, Mom and Paul, for coming, for everything you did while here, and for just experiencing my life with me!