la fille en rose

So far, the first trimester of 2010 holds/has held the following trips:

January 15-17: Tours
February 15-March 6: New York
March 9-12: London
April 9-11: Lyon
April 18-28: Italy (Cinque Terre, Siena, Naples, Sorrento)

This means that out of the first 4 months of the year, I will only be in Paris for 80/120 days. That's crazy.

As for the rest of 2010, nothing is finalized in terms of dates, but here's what in the pipelines:
May: weekend in Tours
July: New York/LA (I have to go to New York for Lily's wedding, so figure I'll try to make it over to LA to see my grandparents again)
December: New York, as it'll have been 5 months since the last visit

And somewhere in there I'd like to find money for 5 days to Istanbul, most likely in September. And maybe a weekend in Austria, if it works out to visit Tanja? Eek! That's an awful lot of traveling.

Tonight was spent mostly making lists of ways to stay in France next year after my visa expires, and researching various possibilities. I am going to try to renew the assistantship again, although it's highly unlikely I'll slip through the cracks a second time. I'm looking into master's programs, as getting a student visa seems to be the easiest option, although the last thing I want is to return to school. I still have anxiety dreams about high school at least once a week. I can only imagine the basket case I would become if I go back to school. In French, no less!

I'm also looking into other visa options, such as the autoentrepreneur status, and the commerçant visa, etc. I've been making lists of things to do, questions to ask, dates to visit the bureaucratic underworld of Paris, and reading the Sorbonne's sites on masters in education. I did pop .125 grams of Klonopin to ease the process, but it still makes me tense.

I realized that, while tonight I'm definitely anxious, the past few months have been blissfully stress-free. No longer being a sans papiers is MUCH easier, but it's not just that. The last few years I've gotten really depressed around this time of year, and I feel none of that this winter. I think a large part of it is due to my upcoming trip home to New York. Every year since moving here, in 2006, I've regretted not celebrating my birthday (February 19th, which is normally during February vacation) back in New York with my friends. But I've never done anything about it. This year, I planned things out so that I would go home in February, and it has made a world of difference to my mental and physical health. Having something to look forward to has made this a peaceful winter. I know I'm jinxing it*, but I haven't gotten sick once yet. Last year at this time I'd had bronchitis twice and was headed for a third time. Yikes. 

Almost exactly a year ago today I wrote a long sad post about not knowing what was going to happen with my life, and my unease at the precarious position I was in. I do firmly believe that everything will work out in the end; it normally does. But I find it interesting that the end of January is my "gah! the future is upon me!" time. Luckily this year my visa is valid through September 30th, so I'm ahead of the curve. As long as I stay on top of my planning, and one of my four potential options works out, I'll be here for another year.

Of course, I'll then have to restart the search again, six months later, to guarantee ANOTHER year here. It would be nice to find a visa that would give me multiple years at once . . . but nothing is perfect. Except that crêpe au caramel au beurre salée I had in Tours last weekend. YUM.

Speaking of yum, oddly enough tonight I was craving brownies. I say odd because I haven't thought about the fudgey deliciousness of brownies from a mix in months. And then, while looking for the previous link to January 2009, I came across this post from January 2008, wherein I mention a brownie craving. Am I living and writing in an perpetual loop?

EDIT: reinforcing the idea that I am living in a perpetual loop, this entry from February 2009 was titled "it's that time of year." The post talks about how, since moving to France, I get depressed in the winter. I very obviously need new material.

*Please don't jinx me, please don't jinx me!

While yesterday's post was about noticing the differences between French and Americans, it's important to note that in some ways, we're all the same. Taking another page from my Taboo games, here's the transcript of a round that I played, while showing a class how the game works with the word "alarm clock":

Me, holding the "alarm clock" card: Without this, you would stay in bed all and not go to school.
Student: My Mom!

Yesterday, while playing Taboo with a class of premières (or 11th graders), I had one of those moments where I remember that I'm in a foreign country. The word was "olive," and the interaction went like this:

A, holding the olive card: It's green, and . . .
B, trying to guess the word: Frog!
A: No, you eat it.
B: Frog!

It is once again time for the semi-annual sales, or soldes. While the reductions are not quite as drastic as last year, when stores started marking down their merchandise before Christmas, there are still lots of good deals to be had.

As I mentioned last week, there are lots of things I want, but not many of them are clothing-related. In fact, it's really mostly footwear that I need. The only exception is a new winter coat. Three years ago, my first winter in Paris, I fell in love with a beautiful but expensive wool coat from Tara Jarmon. It ended up being nothing but problematic. The buttons fell off, the lining ripped, the wool became discolored . . . basically, it was a giant rip-off. But I paid a lot of money for it, and felt that I couldn't buy another coat while it was still functional. I also had an old red wool coat that I bought in Bologna, in 2000. So between the two of them, I was pretty covered, although dated and a bit scruffy.

I knew that I really wanted a new coat this year, for real. Friday night I found one I really liked, at the Comptoirs des Cotonniers stand in Printemps. (For the record, I am staunchly pro-Printemps and anti-Galeries. The new Printemps remodeling is really swanky, and I've never liked Galeries' circular layout.) For some asinine reason, I didn't buy it right then and there, despite the fact that they had my size in black. I decided to go back and get it today, except it's Sunday, so the grands magasins are closed. But the marais is open, so I headed over to the big Comptoirs on rue Pavée.

And so began my day of searching throughout Paris for the damned coat. In all, I went to six stores, in four arrondissements. I was treated really awfully by two saleswomen, and really well by four. (Do NOT go to the store on rue Tronchet in the 8th. They're evil.) I think it took about three hours, and I was told more than once that I'm very courageuse. I suppose that's better than being told I'm stubborn and obsessive, right?

You may wonder why I didn't just call ahead and ask the stores to check their stock. Well, I tried. When I asked the saleswoman at store 2 to call ahead to store 3, she refused, saying they couldn't make phone calls during the sales. I asked her to give me the number so I could call, and she huffed and sighed a lot before doing so. When I finally did call, the saleswoman at store 3 (the aforementioned evil rue Tronchet branch) refused to look, saying they were too busy, and hung up on me. I went over there anyway, they didn't have a 38, so I asked if they could please give me the exact address for store 4. I knew it was on rue de la Paix, but didn't know what number. You'd think I had asked for her first-born child. She started screaming at me, that she's not my secretary, and I just walked out of the store while she yelled after me. They weren't even busy. There were four saleswomen and maybe six or seven customers, so it's not like I was asking a big thing.

I gave up on calling ahead, and resigned myself to trudging around town. I was determined to get this coat. The more I thought about it, the more it became this mythic perfect coat that I would forever regret not buying on Friday night. I was muttering to myself about how being frugal gets me in these stupid situations and I need to learn not to be so tight with my money. I then started thinking about other purchases that got away, like the hand-embroidered top in a small town outside of Budapest and the gold ring in Crete (Oh beautiful gold ring, I still think of you!), and I vowed to treat myself a little bit better when it comes to spending my hard-earned money.

Luckily the story has a happy ending, 'cause the sixth store, on rue de Rennes, had one last black 38. I happily paid the cashier, in cash earned from babysitting Lucas, and strolled out to have a celebratory lunch and movie. But not before asking for the détaxe form. Hey, 12% back is nothing to sneeze at, and old habits die hard.

My mom just told me that one of our family institutions, Gino, is closing. It's an Italian restaurant right near Bloomingdale's, on Lexington Avenue, and it's been around since 1945. Growing up, my dad's office was around the corner, on Park Avenue and 60th street. Gino (or Gino's, as we called it) was one of his regular joints. The waiters all know us, and I always order the same thing: gnocchi with segreto (secret) sauce, which is not actually on the menu. That, of course, makes it that much more delicious.

Gino's really was our local, despite the fact that we live a mile away. If I was in the neighborhood and hungry, I could eat there even if I didn't have any money ,and the host would just put my meal on my dad's tab. I am totally devastated that I will never eat there again. It hadn't even occurred to me that Gino's could ever close. It's an institution, and very much a part of New York's history.

Gino's is mostly famous for its zebra wallpaper, but the food is really good. Besides that, it's comfortable. The waiters are all way too old to still be on their feet, the host never has a grey hair, there's still a coat check and public phone booth, and the plastic flowers have been in their wall sconces for decades. My dad moved his office from the neighborhood at least a decade ago, but we still go to Gino's. Their regulars go there literally every day for dinner. While we are not exactly that loyal, it's incredibly sad that a place with so many memories--birthdays, celebrations, lunches with dad--will soon be gone.

Supposedly the place is closing down at the end of the month due to union problems. My reaction, proving that I am now more French than American, was to ask why nobody was protesting. Le sigh. Arrivederci to Gino's.

Because I just can't bear the thought of fighting with my high school students, yelling at them to stop talking or texting, cajoling them to analyze another cartoon, or punishing them for speaking French, I decided that I'm just going to play games for the next few weeks. I ended last semester by mostly playing Scattegories, and really should have moved back to document analysis, to help prepare them for the Bac. But the thought is so depressing, I just can't be bothered.

So instead we're playing Taboo. There are, of course, some classes where Bac preparation is really a priority, and I will continue to work with them to ensure they have the best chance possible to pass the test. But for the rest of them, it is much more pleasant for me, and more fun for them, to play Taboo.

I made up my own cards two years ago, to use with my collège students, and have pulled them back out. You'd think that this year, considering the kids are significantly older than the ones I designed the cards for, it would be easy. But they complain no matter what. The words are too hard, they can't read my handwriting, they don't know the word "fork," why are their words harder than the other team's, and on and on.

Still, my favorite moment of the day came when one girl, Eva, had to make her team guess the word "bed." Eva is the only girl in a class of six, and very seductive. She's beautiful and lazy and plays a teeny bit dumb while not actually being dumb. I wasn't quite sure how to react when she gave the clue, "It is where you make love," but I had to give her credit. Her team got the point, and won the game.

I'm looking for an ophthalmologist and a dermatologist in Paris. Ideally not too far from the 12th arrondissement, or at least reachable by metro lines 1 or 8. Any leads? They don't need to speak English, just be professional and thorough. Nothing serious, I just haven't seen an eye doctor in 3 years and think I might need a new prescription. And I don't even want to think about how long it's been since I've had my moles checked by a dermatologist. Luckily I wear SPF 50!

I can't believe I have to go back to school tomorrow. The past two weeks, while technically Christmas vacation, didn't feel like that much of a break. I worked almost every day, tutoring, babysitting, and lots of business English classes. Lucas' mom had a baby girl on the 28th (!!!) so I took care of him while his parents were in the clinic. I can't wait to meet her, this weekend!

So yes, officially I've been on break. But there was no traveling to clear my head, nor even many days of sleeping in. I did loads of cooking, and eating delicious meals at friends' houses, and saw a few movies and expos, but could use a weekend away. Which is why it's PERFECT that next Friday, the 15th, I'm heading down to Tours to play with Pauline. I can't wait! I hope the weather will be decent so we can go for a bike ride in the Loire. And I'll finally get to see the exhibit she mounted at the Musée des Beaux Arts there.

One of the little quirks of French life that simultaneously irritates me to no end and charms me is that everyone, and I do mean everyone, wishes you a happy new year the first time they see you in said year. Your landlord, your vegetable seller, the woman who gives you change when you buy a Pariscope, waiters and salespeople, clients, students, colleagues, family members, beggars, strangers who bump into you . . . the list goes on and on.

The first time you see this person could be in March. They will still wish you a happy new year. I remember my first year teaching here there was a class that I saw in the middle of February. Because of my schedule, I hadn't seen them since December. They all wished me a happy new year and I was like, "It's February. What are you talking about?" They explained that it's polite to wish someone a happy new year when you haven't seen them since the 31st. It would be rude to just ignore it. I asked how on earth they keep track of everyone they know and when they last saw that person, and they looked at me a bit uncomfortably and just changed the subject.

I mean, maybe I see more people in a week than the average bear. With all of my students, colleages, students' parents, friends, and miscellaneous others like restaurant owners and shopkeepers, it must be a few hundred people a week. All of whose names I'm supposed to remember. And now I have to keep track of whether or not I've seen them since Friday? It's exhausting.

The flip side of this is that it is really nice to be seen, to not be an anonymous entity in others' lives. And you have to smile when you hear a cheery "bonne année!" and smiling never hurt anyone.

I'm planning on going to Italy for 10-14 days over April break. I know I want to start off in Cinque Terre, for 3 or 4 days. After that, I want to go south. I've already been to Venice, Florence, Rome, Lucca, Pisa, Siena, and San Gimignano in 2007. Back in 2000, I also was in Bologna, Naples, Pompeii, and Capri.

I don't remember much of Naples, except for a street kid who smashed a raw egg on my friend's head. It was pretty shocking, but hilarious now that I look back on it. I'd like to go back to Naples, mostly to eat, and then head to Sorrento. But after that, where? I know almost nothing about southern Italy.

I ordered a small Cinque Terre guidebook, that should have arrived a week ago, but haven't found a book that specializes in southern Italy. Remember that I travel alone, and don't drive, so all travel needs to be done by public transport. I would love to go to Sicily, but am not sure that's the best place to go solo, sans car. I do speak Italian, so communication isn't a problem. Maybe I should just spend more time in Rome, and go to Sicily and Sardenia another time, with a travel buddy? Does anyone have recommendations, either for destinations or reading material?

I'm thinking of a future trip, perhaps next year, that'll combine northern Italy with Slovenia and northern Croatia. So I'm not looking to go north right now.

NB: I just noticed that every paragraph in this post starts with the word "I." I'm not going to fix that right now, but I did catch it.