Sensory memories

Completely random....here are some of the sensory memories that have made me more alive:

• the smell of horses sweating and the feel of their deep inhales and exhales after a good ride
• swinging in Sturzl's hamock
• listening to roosters crowing at 5am in Harare
• mom playing the piano at night while Josh, Jon and I fell asleep
• the distinct ambulence siren sound that reminds me I'm in Europe
• the smell of dad's shirt when I'd hug him after a work day at Sargento
• the sharp smell of the conductor's sweat while leaning over me in the ET (afternoon rides were more memorable)
• the feel of my blanky on my neck or cheek
• the taste of grandma Suemnicht's chocolate chip cookies....and of taking Andies candies out of their fridge
• my first sips of Tanganda tea
• listening to Cyndie Lauper in Madison with Leah while driving out to the marsh
• the smell of books from the library
• the clicking of my new/old typewriter
• the smell of my African mudcloth, which I use as a bedspread....it still smells the same as when I brought it home
• sound of Jon or Josh bursting into the house shouting that the other one had a bloody nose
• the first Saturday that I woke up to the ND marching band playing the fight song
• singing Garth Brooks to and from horse shows
• the smell of breaking open a new bag of shavings in a freshly-stripped stall
• the sound of the Mullet River behind our Riverview Rd. house...and the small stream that ran off to the side of it
• sitting inside the wooden teepee at Shelly's house, the sun shining between the logs

It's still swinging

I'm listening to a sappy Neil Diamond song. Totally random, my mix, that is, of all 3678 songs in my iTunes. But Neil Diamond is singing, "you are the best part of me...the part that allows me to open my heart and let love inside." But I'm not skipping forward, because something resonates. How difficult this is. Truly. There's something very interesting about being 30 and single...something very wonderful, very liberating...a chance to explore and experience and learn and grow deeper into who I am before bringing somebody else into the equation. Something my Mom never got to do. Something most of the women of my mother's generation didn't get to do. We have choices, we have fewer social expectations, fewer constraints. We have the world open before us. Hmmm. And with this lack of constraints and finger-wagging, we also have tougher decisions to make. Nobody's going to make them for us....or tell us what to do. And then there's the "independent woman" defense. There's the comfort of having created and settled into a certain life, a life that can easily feel under seige by somebody who comes along and wants to be a part of it. And perhaps make some renovations. So it is increasingly difficult to open the heart and let love inside. As I've come to realize. Until somebody comes along and gently pries the door open, takes his time walking through, but won't allow you to slam it in his face either. Even when you try. And thank goodness for this.

The pendulum swings

A girlfriend told me that when you move back to the States after living in France, everything is even-keel. Everything is more simple, more efficient, everyone is more accomodating. Life is much easier. The lows aren't as low; but the highs aren't as high either. You don't get that thrill from having argued your way into a residence permit extension, you don't walk five miles and talk to seventeen different people trying to do just three errands in one day, you don't touch the untouchable (it's already been done and put on the shelves of your local WalMart), don't marvel at yourself after having participated in a debate in a language that you didn't grow up with. But your packages aren't lost at the post office, your doctor offers you all the options before making the decisions for you, you can finish a list of to-dos in one afternoon, and calling your cell phone company to inquire about charges doesn't cost you 34 cents a minute. The gyms are beautiful and clean, with smoothie bars and Clif bars, but walking into a North African bar requires you to get in your car and go to a specific (and probably discouraged) part of town. You will never be charged 280 euros for owning a television (audiovisual royalty....is it really that much of a luxury these days!?), nor will someobdy called a "hussier de justice" in your neighborhood hunt you down and threaten to confiscate items in your apartment. But you will pay health insurance and medical costs through the nose. You don't come out of the metro with tears only to run into the ex who said he hoped you understood why he could never see you again. You don't meet your next lover in the library, but you also don't stay up talking until 3am, because you have to be at work at 8am the next day. You can find health food on every corner, but you can't get a decent baguette. You no longer know where your beef came from before it was wrapped in celophane, but you can get Neuskee's thick-cut bacon. You only have to make a phone call to resolve problems, as opposed to writing formal letters with all the proper etiquette phrases. Bottom line. The post office in the USA no longer uses hand-written ledgers to track packages. This is the "old world." And in general, I find it quite charming and agreeable. But not today.

This, too, is Paris

EuroNews does a segment called "No Comment' where they just show video without commentary or explanation. It's really powerful. Occassionally uneventful (when you strip away all that we inject to create drama...).

This is my No Comment. Only to mention that it's a photo taken in my arrondissement at a sit-in against homelessness...where homeless people literally constructed a contained shantytown of tents, blankets and boxes. And they stayed there for months.

Photo taken by Jimmy Louchart of the blog Paris Environs

Jimmy Louchart / CC BY 2.0

It could be worse

There are a lot of crappy jobs out there. When I was little I thought the worst possible job belonged to the garbage man. Today a new one tops my list. A jack-hammer operator. There is one across the street from me. All day he's been starting and stopping with that most horrible machine. Not only is it jolting him around, he's wearing a helmet and ear protection....but he's the brunt of hostility from every business person and resident on this street trying to work, live or just watch tv. Even the passer-bys are irritated by his work. Unfortunately for the jack-hammer operator, he is the one to blame for the lack of peace today.

Je suis américaine

Every French newspaper had his photo covering the entire front page. There were photos from his childhood within, entire spreads and special supplements. The French are SO happy about Barak Obama. (And well, I wouldn't be writing this if I wasn't SO happy too!!) I wanted to blog the very day after the election because the energy was palpable. My brother Jon called to get a guage of the internation response....which I confirmed to be quite positive. There were parties upon parties throughout the city...though most of us decided to stay home to watch from our sofas (results weren't in until 5am for us), calling and texting each other to report our heightening excitement as the results rolled in. I was riding on a tidal wave of happiness after the election, but I wanted to wait to write. Perhaps it would just be a passing fad. But just two days ago I was in the fromagerie buying some very stinky cheese I wouldn't have dreamed about eating 3 years ago when a typical-looking French man was monopolizing the check-out cheese cutter's attention. He was so animated, his white hair poking out from underneath a black beret...and I wasn't listening at first, until he opened his jacket to reveal suspenders with American flags all over them! "Je suis fiér! C'est le premier fois que je les portes!"...."I am proud...it's the first time I'm wearing them!" He wasn't American. But I broke into a huge smile and told him how much I loved his suspenders. And that I, too, was proud. He congratulated me. And in fact, since the election results last Wed. I've been congratulated by French people, British people, a Kenyan friend, some Algerian girls...and my Angolan-Brazilian friend told me that he wanted to pack up and move to America. The world truly is still celebrating. But they're not just celebrating Obama. They are celebrating us, we Americans who made this decision, we Americans who showed the world that our voice is strong and that we truly ARE for progress, that we are interested in putting ourselves and our country on a different path. They are proud of us. And as an American citizen abroad, I can feel the shift in perception. Just this morning I passed by a store displaying Obama shirts in the window. "Hope" is the word written below an artist's depiction of his face. It's a week after the election, but I have no doubt that the shirts will remain. This energy is lingering, and I am happy to report being happy to say, "Je suis américaine!"

Legal to research

It doesn't look like much...a little yellow cardstock thing (which only looks big because of the angle and how close it is to my computer's camera!)....BUT this is the much-needed "Certificat de Scolarité," meaning that I am official here. I just got my student card and these things in the mail....so now I can proceed, once again, to the Prefecture to solidify my residence permit. Until Aug. When I will either go home or enter the process again. The coolest part of this card, for me, is that it says "M2 R Lettres modernes"....meaning 2nd year Masters in Research. I'm a jeune chercheur. A young researcher. Now I have to get off of blogger and get back to reading!

An interesting road ahead

I have started my second year's master's classes. I switched schools, changed programs even, and have been greeted with the stark and very real reminder that I am NOT in an English-speaking country. I say this because, in all honesty, I sometimes forget. The majority of my friends are anglophone...and those who aren't, can speak English quite well...and prefer to! In Paris, if you ask nearly any ex-pat if they are friends with more French people or more foreigners, they will laugh aloud as if you asked the most assinine question possible. Foreigners. Bien sûr! We find each other in this home away from home...we form bonds easily in our displacement. And we form friendships on a common language that doesn't leave us without great expressions, in which we can be completely ourselves, in which we can actually be funny! So I find myself speaking more often in English than in French. Which is too bad, of course, and yet when a French prof says that we must cut ourselves off from people who speak our language, I think there's no way that I would choose to continue living in this country if I didn't have my core group of friends!
All of this is to say that this year I'm no longer operating to any extent--academically--in English. I will also write this year's 100-page thesis in French. Argh. I worry about eloquence, I wonder if I can be nuanced, I fear that I can't be poetic or visual. Not to mention the extra time it will take to look up words I don't know, to find (or not find) equivalent expressions, and to ensure that my structure is "French" enough. I will have to find several readers/editors...I can't just sit down and let me ideas flow...and I will rarely be entirely certain that what I put on the screen won't, in some way, be modified, cut, or re-written by somebody whose French is maternal. But I guess the time had to come. I have to remain positive...and perhaps write myself a note on the bathroom mirror: "You are still smart in French."

Oh, the France

I could be a movie star, or a robber. I never know in this country. The other day I was walking home and several men on the street kept staring as I approached them. The one, holding a baguette sandwich, suddenly got an excited look on his face, and he hurried up to me and asked for my autograph. "Why?" was my natural response. Then the other two guys are looking at me, scrutinizingly, one saying, "Non, it's not her," the other, "Yes it is her!"...guy with the sandwich is still looking at me eagerly, says, "Well, you are ****, non!?" Non. I'm not her. I laugh, walking away, still being eyeballed. Then on Friday I go to my local Monoprix...it's a small and more friendly version of a WalMart here. Groceries upstairs, home/beauty/clothes on the street level. I grab my toothbrush, soap, mascara, head upstairs for the only thing I needed up there: a package of toilet paper. I was going to check out upstairs when I remembered that I wanted to find a water-filtering pitcher. So I went back downstairs. A plain-clothes guy approached me: "Did you pay for that already?" he asks while reaching over my arms to touch the pack of toilet paper. "Non, not yet." "Oh, well, you cannot be downstairs with that. You must pay for it upstairs." Hmmm. Okay. I had already inquired, when I was new to the store, if I could pay for items from the downstairs, upstairs. Yes, not a problem. So I tell this plain-clothes security man..."Oh, I see...I can carry things upstairs, but not downstairs." Right. I ask if I can just grab the water filter and head right back upstairs to pay. No. I was standing right next to the stairs...needing to go into the ailse RIGHT next to where we were talking. No. Not possible. You must go upstairs immediately to pay! Really!? Wow, alright. So I go...and he's coming with me. I ask him, yes yes yes, he must now accompany me to make sure I pay. Hmmm. Even wants to tell me which cash register aisle to get into! He waits at next to the cashier, he watches me, he then goes to walk with me back downstairs. He leans in and confidentially says, "You know, I really should have taken you as a robber, but I know you are not....so you just have to obey this rule and then we won't have to take you into security!" Wow, alright...yes yes yes, I understand now the rule, thank you very much sir, and no, I am not a robber. So I'm back downstairs, now looking for the water filter. A tall man with a "Security" sweater is now talking to Mr. Plain-clothes. Security dude walks up to me and says, "Mademoiselle, I need to see your cash register receipt." WHAT!? Are you joking!? I actually started laughing. A 6-pack of pink toilet paper was causing THIS kind of commotion? So then I ask him where, in the store, is this ever-so-serious rule posted so that the customers KNOW not to make such an infraction. Oh, it's posted somewhere. "But WHERE?" I inquired, now getting completely annoyed. Oh, but it's a rule. RIGHT, a rule that is NOT posted anywhere. I argued and laughed and finally suggested that perhaps they make the rule visible. And left the store. They didn't carry water filter pitchers afterall. But the worker in that department couldn't tell me that. She just gave me a "Pfff" and said she had no idea if they carried such a thing....I should just look around to find out! But then today I had a moment of redemption. I went to the outdoor Sunday market, and at one of the butcher's, I asked for chicken breasts. The butcher pulled out the whole chicken....threw it on the wooden block, and proceeded to whack off it's head, it's legs, and then dive into the center to extract the center white meat breast. Whew! I got skin and all, a few bones. But he liked my eyes. Thought I must be from the north of France. (Usually I'm mistaken for a German, so that was a completely new identity mistake!) So he gave me a champagne-corked bottle of blond beer! It's local to some region of France, though I don't know where. Perhaps the North. Just tucked it right in there with my chicken wrapped in paper.

And there is a Part Deux!

Summer vacation part two takes place in the States. It makes me realize, though, that I am completely discrediting almost 4 weeks of vacation in Paris! I can honestly say, though, that my categorical self almost blocked that part of my time, knowing that I still had my trip home to follow. So going home meant first going to Monterey, California, for my Mom and Paul's wedding. It was more fantastic than I anticipated! I was lucky to stay in the same hotel room as my mom...with Leah as well and Paula in an adjoining room. So we did our hair together, our make-up...drank wine, talked at night, and tried and re-tried different outfits together. I got to see the excitement in my mom as she awaited her wedding. And I think the second time is quite powerful. To say those vows to somebody after having lived them with somebody else. To know what they truly mean, to understand what that commitment entails, to be courageous and confident enough to make it work. My mom and Paul re-discovered each other, and I am so happy that they have both found happiness in their relationship. I didn't know necessarily how the marriage would change the dimension, but after having been home, I get it. I saw it. I felt it. So....going back, the wedding in California was amazing....

Then I was back in Wisconsin. The first stop was a trip to Lake Geneva to see my friend Steph and her now 5-year-old daughter Auden. This has become an annual affair, and it's such a joy to see Auden's growth each year. This year to see her start to swim, to ask questions about my family, to watch her act out entire scenes from The Sound of Music...she can recite poetry by heart, she sings Ani DiFranco, she even drove the boat. Then at night, Leah, Steph, and I sit on the couch or porch and sip a little wine, talk, and occasionally dive into the container of custard! I then had time with my dad, got to see his last softball game of the season, didn't help at all in the house he's working on, but I did help pick out two vanities, sinks, and fixtures! We made dinners, sat out by the pool, spent time at Crystal Lake, took some morning walks (though we both agreed, not enough of them!)...and had some really great and necessary conversations. I also played with my high school class in a fundraiser softball tournament. Leah sat on the bleachers with my dad, Mom, and Paul, as they all watched me strike out every single time! I also got to spend some time in Milwaukee with Josh...hang out in the Cholive headquarters, go out together, meet up with mutual friends of ours...and I even got to see one of my former students from LE. My mom and I also did our summer peach canning... And then for the first time in 12 years, I went to the Sheboygan County Fair!! The cows, I adore. Had to see them the first night with my dad. We also went to see my horse, Mac, and I almost cried when I walked into his stall. I bought him when he was 4, and he's now 22 years old! And still looking and moving beautifully! Then we found my cousins and their friends...people I knew from years back, friends I showed horses with...and we all experienced an Oil Can Harry concert. I can't remember the last time I drank so much beer, nor had so much beer spilled all over me! The only logical thing to do, then at 1 am, was to go to my dad's pool! I then got back to the fair with my mom and aunt...and we did all the animal barns (particularly intrigued by the poultry! what diversity!!), did the crafts barn, looked at the canned food and knitting and cases upon cases of breads and other baked goods!

And then I went down to Chicago. Leah moved into the most fabulous apartment...so I helped her unpack, arrange and re-arrange...we schemed about the best places to read, to dance, to talk on the phone, to watch the sun turn pink, and to, of course, drink coffee! I also got to make a trip to Indiana to visit Obadyah. His situation deserves its own posting...so I will save that. I got to see my old hair-dresser, Patrick, who gave me a fabulous cut...got to have dinner with cousin Nic, hang out with Heather Foley...and just enjoy time being with Leah in her environment.

Then merely days later, the Munsterer's arrived. They are my sister-in-law Molly's family! They all came for the Ironman triathalon in Madison....which my brother Jon was, of course, participating in! With cars packed full with coolers, food, cowbells, sneakers, layers, an outdoor tent and chairs, and even a megaphone...We carpooled to Madison, where Jon had already arrived and checked out the course with his coach, Pete. The weekend was absolutely amazing. Inspirational. Non-stop fun! We were such a good "Team Jon": Munsterer's, Becky (Molly's sister), Josh, Leah, Paula and Dan, Pat and Steve, Dad, Mom and Paul... of course the two yellow labs, Scout and Duke! Molly made us all matching t-shirts, and having loaded up on a carbo dinner, we were all ready to hit the course at 5:30 the next morning! Jon of course got there much earlier! With the sun rising over Lake Mendota, all the swimmers got into the water. It was like a sea of minnows when the cannon sounded and everyone spanned out across the water. Jon finished his 2-mile swim in an hour. Paula and I watched him transition from the swim to the bike...we all met up, and then drove out to our spot along the bike route. The bike was 112 miles...and we were at marker 45 and 90 miles. We met up with Pete, set up 2 tents...and then proceeded to yell and cheer and clap and dance...make human pyramids and do kick lines and ring bells for the next 5 1/2 hours to cheer on the bikers! I think Jon gave us the biggest complement ever when, after all was said and done, he said that we were the most fun cheering group along the entire bike route! Oh, we had energy. (And when that lagged, we went to the coolers for beer!) Then we went to downtown Madison where we caught Jon on at least 6 times along the marathon route. We kept on cheering, taking more breaks to sit on any grass or pop into a bar from time to time. But then 12 hours later, we all parked it at the finish line. Jon (still running!) came through at 12h45min. He did sooooo well! The sun had set over the capitol building, and there was music blasting...and Jon was so amazingly still full of energy! He had more than we did! We took photos and then went back to the hotel where none of us could even walk anymore. But Paul had brought celebratory champagne, so after getting Wendy's burgers, Jon and Molly came back to meet us all in the hotel where we opened champagne and re-invigorated ourselves by re-counting the days events...and asking Jon a thousand questions! The next morning we had IHOP breakfasts and thanked our stars that the day's rain hadn't fallen during the Ironman. And then I had to say good-bye. And it all felt very strange. To Josh the night before, to Leah after breakfast, and to Jon and Molly at the hotel. But it was the most fabulous way to end all of our summer vacations. Because all summer we'd all been talking about Italy...then California...then the Ironman. And when that final benchmark is over, a different reality hits. So next: Christmas!!

Summer Part 1

Jon and Molly visited me in Paris back in June. They were here to greet me at my apartment with flowers and champagne when I finished and passed my thesis defense. We walked, we took our time, we ate great food, we danced and danced, and we ended up at a Chinese restaurant for a poetry reading we never heard. But we ate Chinese chicken and got inappropriately hit on. We talked at night and laughed over beers, ran into a problematic washing machine at the laundromat, hung out with friends, and stopped often for coffee and wine.

Then we all met in Amalfi, Italy. In a villa for 14 people, we had a rather revolving door of friends and family in and out for 2 weeks. We started days with yogurt and coffee, did yoga and spent entire afternoons on the concrete slab by the sea. We jumped from the cliff and took group swims over to a public beach, we snacked on bread and procuitto and pecorino, we ordered our groceries daily with the help of an Italian dictionary and Leah's sister Mari's preparatory Italian lessons. We ordered local wine. We got lemons from groves above our house, tomatoes on the vines with leaves, entire half wheels of fresh cheese, Italian meats wrapped in paper, fresh basil and beans and zuccini. The chefs gathered at 8ish, everyone was showered and dressed up for nightly dinners. We played music and lit candles and cooked for 14 people...Polenta and pasta, rissoto and vegetables and salads and fresh fish (thanks to Nic!). We played games or just sat and talked in the soft light of the moon across the Mediterannean.

Leaving the villa, Leah, Mari, and I went to Rome for 2 days. Then Leah and I went to Greece. Trouble getting out of Rome, I ended up in Athens a day after Leah, but we eventually got on a ferry to Santorini. Thank goodness that Santorini quickly negated the horror of having rode the ferry for 12 hours, sitting and sleeping only on a wooden bench breathing in dark black ferry exhaust. But we hit the beech in Santorini. And never left it. Really. Our hotel was right on the beach walk, across the pedestrian street from the pebbles and tiki umbrellas that mark the beaches of Kamari. Outside cafés, warm sun, a day in the "capital" city of the island--Fira--which led to an entire afternoon in an artist's studio, drinking his father's wine, smoking Greek cigarettes, and listening to classical music. He took us to a super local dinner in the old port, where we pulled apart freshly-grilled sardines and calamaris, washing them down with little beers. Andrés. Amazing art, very interesting man. Sizzling cheese, dolmas, eggplant salad, tzaziki, moussaka, stuffed tomatoes...(clearly a foodie's delight!) The sunsets were amazing, the people so open and friendly, and every night we found ourselves out with new groups of people.

That was summer Part 1. European vacation. Beach vacation on the Mediterranean. I returned to Paris without my bags, in a sun dress, to find 55-degree weather and rain. But July wasn't all that bad. Though I admit that it doesn't qualify as vacation Part 2. That took place in the States. And that will be a new blog altogether....!

Where to Start???

But really, how to I return to blogging after a 3-month hiatus? After having had the most amazing summer in the 30 years I've been living? After having passed through several milestones, come to some pretty important realizations, and built memories that go way beyond the beauty of the photos. I don't know. But I know that the summer is over, it's now Sept. 11th (can't help but always think back on this day...where I was, who I was with...at LE, first period composition class), and I will now settle back into the routine that makes up the life I've chosen at this time. Summer, all that it beheld, and the way I chose to spend it are all elements that also make up the life I've chosen. The best of the best, really. But even the all-star team breaks up and goes back to the batting cages. Thank goodness Paris is more exciting than my batting!!! (As evidenced in the softball tournament I played in where I struck out EVERY time I went up to bat!)

I don't know where to start. So I won't right now. Besides, it's 2:40 am, and I really should be sleeping. My body isn't quite adjusted. Or else it's the emotional high, the motivation, the energy I'm cruising on after having just (finally!) watched Obama's DNC speech. Wow. THAT is the America I want to say I am a part of. This is the embodiment of what I believe it means to be an American. But sparing political talk (for now)...this is just a blog posting to say that I WILL be posting blogs soon...I have MUCH to tell, pictures to show, thoughts to share. Stay tuned, please, if you haven't already given up all hope of this blog ever coming back to life! It's coming back.

30. A year of Balance.

So I hope, anyhow, that 30 will be my year of balance. I say that only because I DO feel so balanced at this point of my life...and there's something profound about passing into this decade of my life. I know major changes will occur, I will have to make life-changing decisions, and Lord only knows where I'll be at the end of this decade!

My 30th birthday passed with a bang. My mom was here...I had a great party...and happened to be on break during that time so I could really take advantage of the time with my Mom...and just enjoy the moment!

And there's something intensely satisfying to be completely unattached right now. I know that Buddhism teaches that we have to let go of "holding on" to things...to people, to the past, to expectations, ideals. And this isn't easy. To let go of the ground beneath our feet. It's a contradictory message to all the other stuff we here...get "grounded," settle down, make roots, solid ground solid ground. But I get this, and it resonates with me. I do not want to lean, to depend, to be "figé" (stuck) in some place, some time, with some person...I need to feel completely whole and fulfilled just with me. Paris helps me do that. In some ways, it forces it, I guess...makes me think of a conversation I had over a glass of wine with an ex-boyfriend turned friend. I asked him if he goes into every relationship thinking long-term. His response, "Well, I am 32 now, Amanda! And what do you go into a relationship thinking?" Something new, something challenging and yet complimentary, somebody to ignite that which is latent but needs help shining, somebody with whom I can just "be"...in this moment. But that's because I'm here for who-knows how long. This is home, but not home. So how can I think long-term in the short-term...when this is on uncertain terms? And so I just am me. I'm not saying this works for everyone....cuz I know that people like to put down roots. Heck, I've GOT roots here...roots that I can't imagine yanking out right now! But as I walked home from an increadibly hard yoga class last night...after meeting some friends for dinner at a friend's new restaurant...sitting outside, walking home in my moccasins, making no sound, seeing the Seine sparkle and the warm breeze float over my bare shoulders...I just felt so free. No drama. No waiting. No wondering. No big decisions right now. Just here and now. And I want to maintain this balance. 30 is great. Now to maintain it without thinking about its "maintenance"!

Short and Sweet

Just a quick one. My mom arrives in 8 hours....and I realize that it has been, oh, 10 years since we last spent 6 days together...just mom and me! I can't believe it. And I am ready (and with a clean apartment!) for some nice bonding time. Might even re-walk our last time together, which was right here in this very city, when I got my purse stolen, lost my passport, had to run to the American consulate on the day we were getting on a train for Italy and mom had to find boxes to wrap up and send home the winter clothes she'd packed and didn't need! We were here during the World Cup....while it was in Paris...when France won and the night of the stolen purse when we wandered back to our hotel at 2am, small French cars packed with flag-waving, scarf-wearing Frenchmen circled the block with their horns blaring. That was 10 years ago. And we wandered this city feeling very foreign and ordered with trepidation...when the smells were different and the streets unfamiliar. And this time it's my city, which I can share with my mom...starting with a haircut with my hairdresser tomorrow, followed by lunch in Montmartre (Josh, I promise we're going to the same resto you and I ate at!)....and Edith will be our tour guide in the Louvre and we will hang out in the café and see Molly's baby and do a dinner with her mom when her visit overlaps my mom's visit...and we will celebrate my 30th birthday with people who know me well but haven't known me long...and we will clean my windows and plant my flower boxes and go to an antique/art fair and sit in parks. We will look at cherry blossom trees and reminisce about Door County and eat Sunday brunch and probably do some shopping.
And I can't wait. 8 hours. Now 7hours40minutes. Must go to bed. Clean, ironed sheets. Vacuumed and on-hands-and-knees-scrubbed floor...forgot to buy fresh flowers but we can pick out some tulips tomorrow.
Good night!

Random thoughts

Two nights ago it snowed. There will still piles on the wooden decks around the library when I arrived in the afternoon. This is a strange place...where we have spring-like weather all winter and then have snow in the spring. Alas. I saw Alicia Keys in concert with Mél, Kat, and Laetitia last week, and I will say that her voice is absolutely incredible, maybe even better live than on her albums. More rich, more varied...and she never stops! But. She, as a person, disappointed me. I guess we don't get the same media coverage over here, because I seemed to be outta the loop that she IS an immature person who doesn't have a whole lot of depth. Nobody at home was surprised when I made that remark about her personality (or lack thereof!) during the concert! But I was surprised. She was packaged, scripted. So now we have a big group going to see Mary J. Blige in June. I have pretty high hopes for her!! And then on Saturday, we threw Molly's baby shower. She loved it...and I loved seeing her and seeing Savanna!
And on a totally different subject, I should be working on my chapter that's due on Thursday...but there is a documentary on France 2 right now..."68". It's about the many, many revolutions that occurred in 1968. They just finished the portion on the US...protests against Vietnam, the assassinations of Martin Luther King and JFK. Just amazing. The images, and the interviews and video footage...the music and the history....and I just can't help but think about how the structures of power are no different now...in fact, if anything, they are stronger, more centralized, visible and covert at the same time. And yet, we have nothing of the sort today. Well, to some extent we still do in Paris, but much less in the US. Are our lives just that much easier today? Is there less to fight about, to fight for? Is my generation that complacent? That passive? That disengaged? Distracted?
I have no way of wrapping this up. Oh the times, they are a changin'.

Day off

The Monday after Easter, being today, is a national holiday in France. I still haven't figured out why such a secular country's national holidays still line up with the Catholic feast days. Nevertheless, the library is closed, the gym is closed, many businesses are closed....certainly the bank and any useful errands I might run are out of the question. So. I will write today in a café. I have become such a library junkie that writing in a café presents all kinds of obstacles (space, noise, outlets...!)....which is crazy because I remember countless hours I spent at Alterra in Milwaukee, grading papers and planning lessons and working on my teaching certification courses. That WAS my library! And I wish there was an Alterra in Paris. (Hmmm....an idea!?) But there are only Starbucks, in way of American-genre coffeshops. And the Starbucks depress me. They are dirty and all the same....but, in fact, if I want a big 'ol American coffee in a paper cup with a lid, it's my only option.

I don't know why I'm even bothering to mention Starbucks when there is a LOT of good news to share! First, I had an amazing visit from my friend Heather Foley. We share the same birthday (though she's a year ahead of me)...our dad's were roommates at Notre Dame...and we grew up with our families hanging out at ND tailgates or their family coming up to WI for various reasons in the summer. And Heather and I have always connected so profoundly, and yet we've never actually spent a stretch of time together. And ceratinly not as adults. So when her parents bought her a ticket to come to Paris for her 30th birthday, I was ecstatic! But life took crazy exciting turns for Heather at the same time that she was supposed to come last year....And hence she finally used her ticket this year. She stayed with me for 10 days, and never once did it feel cramped in my studio apartment. Cuz we do SO much the exact same way! Cooking was a breeze together, shopping for food, walking around the city, splitting up for the days so I could go to the library....meeting back up at 8pm to have a glass of wine and make our dinner plans...I was so lucky to have her here! We laughed so hard and sang Joni Mitchell and fought with our flipped-inside out umbrellas in the street, danced and stumbled home at 4am. Lingered over coffee and just had endless good conversations. She's amazing.

THEN, just when Heather left, my friend Molly gave birth to a baby girl! She and her husband Yann named her Savanna. Savanna Chevance. Beautiful. I went to the clinic less than 24 hours after her birth....and it was just increadible to see one of my best friends be SO very much HERSELF after going through childbirth. Molly is an absolutely beautiful mom...and I loved seeing her navigate motherhood...not knowing what to do, having loads of questions and sometimes looking lost...yet doing it all with absolute grace. (It's normal, i know, that giving birth doesn't somehow give you the absolute knowledge or "instinct" of motherhood!....but sometimes I fear my friends will take on a different, foreign persona after having a child!) So there is a new girl to add to the group...and she will have a lot of aunties!

And then, in much smaller news, I have crossed some major hurdles in my school year. Last semester was crazy busy, and this semester, though only taking 2 courses and writing my 100 pages, has seemed even worse. But I crossed a major bridge on Thursday. I finished 2 oral presentations....and those were either all or half of my grades in those 2 classes. So now I just have a 15-page paper to write for one class (and believe me, 15 pages is nothing these days!)....But for the most part I am just focusing on my own research and writing. And I've already got 40 or so pages under my belt (though 40 pages which still need revising)...and I'm working on the next chapter, which flowed right from the last, and I just feel such a sense of relief. That I can work now at a normal pace, and without the added stress, I can ENJOY the writing that I'm doing, without pulling nearly all-nighters to meet deadlines amidst preparing for other classwork.
So....now off to a café I go....maybe it will be a Starbucks....but I will enjoy the "Lundi de Pâques" holiday (Monday of Easter)....AND luckily Charley is still teaching his Ashtanga 2 yoga class this evening. I will be there.

And the oyster returns

I have no business writing now...though I have a lot of business of catching up to do. But not now. I have killer deadlines coming up and so much writing to do. And I cannot motivate cuz I just spent the last 4 marvelous days with my best friend on the planet!! From the Opera Garnier to Chez Janou, the café and out with the girls, walks and walks and sunshine and glasses of wine and a normal Sunday night of "lost" and pizza....Everything made that much more special to share it with Leah. And....we just had a blast and laughed and discussed everything under the sun. So since I have no time to write, I'll just let the photos speak for themselves. Next stop: Italy!

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!