My blog-fairy, Dan, has pointed out that I didn't really post a hiatus note on here. This is Dan who told me to take down my address over a year ago, and Dan who told me I had to knock off the depressing shit a few months ago. Thanks, Dan. Glad to know someone's out there. :)
I thought I had mentioned it enough times, but I'm in Belgium and Holland for vacation. I spent two (boring and ugly and grey) days in Brussels, and am now tipsy on cherry beer in Bruges. I'm going to Ghent on a daytrip tomorrow, and then Antwerp on Friday, and then off to stay with Jamie in the Hague for five days over New Year's.
I'll post tons of pictures and reports when I get back to Paris. Until then, have a fantastic New Year's, and I hope your Christmas presents aren't too difficult to exchange for what you really want.
Hugs!
I believe in karma, checks and balances, and the universe. It may not be practical, but I really do think that what you put out there affects what you get back. So I'm not surprised at what happened today.
About a month ago I got on the metro just as a woman was moving from one of the folding seats to a permanent seat. As she did so, a heavy gold bracelet fell off her wrist. No one else on the car noticed, so I picked it up and handed it back to her. Apparently all of the other passengers thought this was just amazing. I guess they expected me to pocket it? Everyone went on and on about how "adorable, aimable, gentile, etc" I was to return the bracelet.
As I was getting off at my stop, the owner got up and tried to give me 20 euros. I refused, saying, "c'est normal." She insisted, saying that she would have had to spend 30 times that to replace the bracelet, which was indeed very heavy and probably quite expensive. I had to go, so I took the money and said thank you, and felt both happy that I was the one who found the bracelet, and sad that someone else might have kept it.
Last night I used the Chanukah gelt that Tessa is giving me to buy myself a bracelet at a very trendy store, Zadig & Voltaire. I saw it a month ago, and since then the price went from 130 to 65 euros. I haven't stopped thinking about it, and figured it was time I treat myself. I left the store around 5 pm, extremely happy with my new purchase. By 3 pm today, it was gone.
I had left my apartment at 2:30, wearing the bracelet. I went into a clothing shop, a stationery store, and a giant electronics store before I noticed the bracelet was missing. I retraced my steps, cursing that no one had turned it in to one of the store managers (I asked), or stopped me when it fell off my wrist. I was so disappointed that karma was cheating me.
When I got home I called the store to let them know that not 24 hours had gone by before the chain or clasp had failed. I didn't think they'd be able to do anything without proof, but of course I don't have proof since it's gone. I was therefore very surprised when they called me back to say that if I come in tomorrow, they'll give me another bracelet.
I thanked the salesman profusely, to which he replied, "c'est normal." My faith in the universe is restored.
My last class today, and my last class of 2007 as I'm on vacation until January 8th, is 6eme 2. These are the kids who sang "row, row, row your boat" so adorably they made my ovaries ache. They were having a Christmas party with their teacher in their half-session with her, so the kids I had for the last 25 minutes of the hour were totally hopped up on sugar.
They came into my class with a box of cookies, a plate of chocolates, and a container of candy that was unfortunately mostly licorice. I asked what this was all for, and they said, "For you, madame." When I asked why, they said, "Parce que vous êtes gentile." For those of you who aren't already dying with cuteness, that means, "Because you're nice."
I proceeded to toss chocolate to their open hands, which set them off. The rest of the class was totally out of control, but in a good way. They had the giggles, and they had them bad. At one point David, the most personality-filled kid I've ever met, said, "On sait bien s'amuser, madame, non?" ("We know how to have fun, madame, no?") El Chayma, who has this great raspy voice, laughed and said, "Sa tête va s'exploser!" ("Her head is going to explode!", because I was pretending to be overwhelmed by the 14 screaming 11 year-olds.)
To which David replied, "et elle va sécréter le chocolat partout!" (and she'll leak chocolate everywhere!")
I'm actually looking forward to seeing them next year. How sick is that?
When I was born my parents named me Sophie. They thought it was a sweet name, and they're right. I love it. Although there are hundreds of little girls running around named Sophie, I'm one of maybe 3 in my age range that I've ever met, in the States at least.
While we were in the hospital my parents thought that maybe when I was older I would want a more "sophisticated" name, and although they don't particularly like the name Sophia they wanted to give me the option, as Sophie can be a nickname for Sophia.
So, Sophie was crossed out and Sophia written in by hand. This the birth certificate I've always used. A bit unorthodox perhaps, but I've never had a problem. My passport, credit cards, various insurances, diplomas, etc, have always been in the name of Sophie. When I was 21 or 22 I decided to legally change my name to Sophie, to avoid confusion. I was, however, never reissued a new birth certificate.
As I said, this has never been a problem. Ever. With the exception of my driver's ed teacher, Mrs. Marinaro, no one has ever called me Sophia.
But today I got an email from my favorite fonctionaire, Mme. Dionis at the rectorat (Salut! T'es la? Bienvenue!) The sales cons at the prefecture are refusing my request for a carte de sejour, because there's a discord between my passport and my birth certificate. The same birth certificate I used last year to successfully get a carte de sejour!
Basically this means that I'm fucked. Excuse the language, but I'm just so angry. The birth certificate was good enough for them last year, so there's no reason it shouldn't be sufficient this year. Mme. Dionis told me other horror stories of assistants being refused for stupid reasons, and it's just infuriating.
The repercussions of this connerie are basically that it's going to be VERY hard for me to stay after my assistantship. I was planning on applying for a changement de statut, to change my carte de sejour from an assistant one to a tourist one over the summer, and then to a temporary worker one once I secure a job. Now that's out the window. Once my visa expires at the end of January I'll be here illegally, and technically not allowed to leave the country if I want to get back in. I already have tickets to Morocco in February, which is outside the EU, so I could have problems getting back in. The fact that I'm American helps, but there's still a possibility of issues.
I'm just so angry. They're looking for reasons to keep us out, and it's just stupid and wrong. My parents are trying to fax over the documents from my name change, but without a "valid" birth certificate I might be screwed.
Here are the pictures I took of my apartment this weekend, now that everything (but the kitchen) is settled. It's still a bit empty, as I'll only be here six months, but it's comfortable and colorful and I'm happy here.
I haven't had a separate bedroom since I was a kid! I lived in singles in college, and studios since then. Having a place to do nothing but sleep is such a treat, even if Anna thinks that mattresses on the floor are only for heroin addicts:
I sent in my reader's report tonight, and within an hour had a reply from the editorial director saying that my work was perfect, and that once everyone is back from the holidays I can start work! I'm very, very happy. I'll have to go in and pick up books, and then read them on my own time. Once I've exhausted my supply I'll go in for fresh books, and hope that they have enough to keep me busy! I read so quickly, and I'm hardly the only reader, so I'm sure there'll be times when they have nothing to give me. Still, the bit of extra money will be great, as will the foot in the door!
Saturday I went with Claire to see "Enchanted." We saw it in French, so now I want to go back and catch the original version, if only to hear Patrick Dempsey's voice. It was so cute that I just had a big smile on my face the whole time. What a perfect feel-good movie. We then went back to her house for tree trimming, dinner, and an exciting round of Clue. (It was Mlle Rose in the hall with a revolver).
Here's the tree, pre-trimming:
In case you're wondering, I've lost 5 kilos since last year and my lungs are perfect. Whoop!
I'm finally sure that I made the right choice by moving back to Paris. A lot of things have fallen into place this week:
- I'm able to sleep through the church bells from the really ugly church across the street
- my legs no longer give out at the 3rd floor, which is good since I live on the 4th floor (or 5th American floor) of a walk-up
- I made my third, and last for a VERY long time, trip to Ikea. I now have a coffee table and a bedside table, and never want to see another Swedish meatball
- I have an appointment (on Monday!) for my medical visit
- I know which boulangerie in my neighborhood has the best baguette, and which has the best pain au chocolat
- my French CV is in good shape
- I'm going on vacation in 10 days!
My travel plans for Christmas break have changed a bit, and after five days in Belgium I'm going to visit Jamie in the Hague. I've been to Amsterdam twice, but have never really traveled around Holland, so I'm super-excited to see a bit more of the country. I plan on a day trip to Delft, for the Vermeer museum.
I also realized that if I leave for New York as soon as Spring vacation starts, I can be home for the seders. I'm so glad to know that I'll be there, since I really missed Thanksgiving and Chanukah this year. My guess is that I won't fast, since that would entail missing too many of my favorite New York/American meals, but I didn't last year either, since I was in Italy.
As soon as the sun comes out again I'm going to take more pictures of my apartment, now that it's more or less set up. It's been so grey and foggy and rainy that I have no beautiful light pouring in, and that's what really makes the place look special.
Another thing that's making me really happy is that I had a very good interview today at a major publishing house. They asked me to be a reader for their English language books, and to translate a middle-grade novel from French to English! I have to do a test run before I'm hired, but I'm fairly confident. So knowing that I'll (probably) be a bit busier and have some more money coming in takes some of the pressure off.
I'm totally zonked from waking up before 7 four days in a row, so am heading to bed. Tomorrow I am going to trim a Christmas tree* for the first time ever! Whoopee!
*it's not my tree. I don't believe in Chanukah bushes.
Now that November is behind me, I feel so much better. That whole month was just a wash, what with being sick, the strike, mountains of stressful paperwork and bureaucracy crap, and leaving my family and friends. I feel like I've gotten over the worst of it, and can now relax and enjoy being here.
This morning I woke up to my internet and phone working exactly when they were supposed to. This is a miracle. When I signed up I was told it would take 19 days, and figured that meant at least a month. But today was the 19th day, and I'm online! I'm so psyched about this, I'm practically giddy. This mean I am typing from the comfort of my couch, rather than standing in my freezing kitchen with the construction workers looking in at me--the only place where I was able to steal WiFi for the past three weeks. I can now call my friends in the States, download my TV shows (oh, Dan Humphrey, how I've missed you), and research travel options.
So things are good.
I'm going to Belgium for five days between Christmas and New Year's. I'll be visiting Brussels, Antwerp, Bruges, and Ghent. Planning trips makes me so happy. I also want to go somewhere for a few days in the first week of January. Ideally somewhere warmer than here, so maybe the South of France, if I can find a good fare.
I found out today that I have my medical visit on the 17th, which is an important step on the way to getting my Carte de Sejour. Now I'm going to scope out the stores on Rue du Four in preparation for the sales, on January 9th. We'll see if I can hold out until then . . .
After being ill for ten days, I am finally feeling better. The massive amounts of drugs I'm on are no doubt the cause, but while I'm still tired all the time, I'm no longer in pain or constantly hacking up a lung. Both good things. So since my 30 days post-purchase are up on Tuesday, I decided to trek out to Ikea today. On a Sunday. In the rain.
Now, I knew what I was getting into when I took on this mission. I told myself that I would just have to make the best of it, and deal with the crowds. The 75-minute ride there was not so bad. I took the RER C to Choisy le Roi, and then a little bus to the shopping center, and then walked a bit to Ikea. Except that it was raining, and there are no pedestrian paths from the bus stop to the stores. So I just walked on the highway. Not on the shoulder, as there was no shoulder. Nope, I was walking directly on the highway, giggling at how ridiculous this was.
Once my returns were finished I made my way straight to the Swedish meatballs. Man, I love those things. I doodled around for a few hours, picking up odds and ends: a bathroom clock, a kitchen mat, a picture frame, etc. Nothing big, since I knew I'd have to carry it all back myself. It ended up being almost exactly the amount of money I had just been reimbursed, so it felt nice and even.
When I left, the rain had really picked up. I decided I deserved some vin chaud (hot spiced wine), and bought a cup from the little stand in the shopping center, antibiotics be damned. Anyone who read my blog last year knows how much I love my vin chaud. This was my first cup of the year, and I am very happy it's back in season. No one would ever say that balancing an Ikea bag, umbrella, and flimsy plastic cup of vin chaud while navigating wet highways is easy. However, toss in the VIOLENT WINDS (really, there were road signs all over the place announcing the danger) and you end up with me, spilling red wine on my scarf and coat.
Amazingly, I still found this funny. My situation was just so absurd that I was able to laugh at it, even though I smelled like wet dog.
Maybe I was just in a good mood, and happy to be out of the house. Or maybe the parade of hundreds of horses right past my window this morning cheered me up. I think they were on their way to the Salon de Cheval, as most of the riders were in costume. I saw medieval knights, turn-of-the-century ladies and gents in top hots and long coats, policemen, cowboys, buggies, and carriages. It was such a hoot that I snapped pictures, but they didn't come out very well cause I'm so high up.
Anyway, I'm spending the night in, washing all my new kitchen items from Jean-Paul. His sister died, and while none of her kitchen things are valuable, they are all useful. So I'm the proud new owner of pots, pans, silverware, bowls, tupperware, a salad spinner, etc. I have almost no storage space, but will figure it out. I'm not giving up my butter spiral maker or carrot kitchen timer for anything.
Today was a very strange day. I was happy when I got a call last night from Catherine, the head English teacher at the good school, saying that instead of teaching today I was going to be chaperoning a group of 4eme (8th graders) to the movies. I helped herd around 75 screaming tweens from one side of Paris to the other and back, to watch one of the most disturbing movies ever.
Now, there are thousands and thousands of movies out there. Many of them are appropriate for 12-13 year olds. Ken Loach's My Name is Joe, however, is not one of them. Boasting drug use, addiction, and dealing, alcoholism, extreme violence including wife beating, prostitution, sex/nudity, suicide, and no fewer than 230 uses of the word "fuck," I have absolutely no clue why anyone would choose to show this movie to kids. Add in the incredibly difficult Scottish accent (I had an easier time reading the French subtitles than I did listening), and it was just downright stupid.
So that was weird.
Then I took a three-hour nap this afternoon by mistake. I know I set my alarm, but either it didn't go off or I turned it off in my sleep (the more likely option). Luckily I woke up to a telemarketer, although I have no idea how they got my number since it's brand new. Does France Telecom sell numbers here? How evil.
I trotted over to Benjamin's for weekly tutoring, and then home for dinner. After realizing that six days is too long to be in such (throat) pain that seems to be getting worse, not better, I called SOS Medecin. Any of you who saw Michael Moore's Sicko marveled at the French doctors who make house calls. The doctor who came to my house was super-nice and helpful, and told me I have a post-nasal drip with tonsillitis. He then prescribed four medications (four!), including an antibiotic. Ooh, and best of all, he gave me a doctor's note for the next two days. Score!
I adore French medications, as they're super-strong and easily accessible, what with at least three pharmacies visible from my windows alone. I don't think I'm going to buy all four medications he prescribed, as that seems a bit excessive. I'm really glad to know that within 48 hours I'm guaranteed to feel better, though.
Anyone want to bring me chicken soup?
It has come to my attention that my blog is currently a bit depressing (thanks, Dan). It's true that I'm having a hard time right now. I got sick again this weekend, and despite seeing tons of people I still feel both lonely and bored. I'm hoping that this will pass once I get into a routine that involves doing more than just 12 hours a week of teaching.
I spent the whole morning today updating my French CV in preparation for sending it out to English/bilingual schools and publishing houses. Being productive helps. But I want to feel good, not just okay. So I'm posting some pictures of my last few weeks in New York, since looking at happy times makes me happy.
At Jenn and Nick's housewarming party:
