Hello readers!
I am proud to say that I have finally settled into my town in Lisieux, France. It was a little rough in the beginning – Paris was not easy for me – but I am feeling totally secure right now. As I write, I am sitting in my studio apartment sipping some pesticide-free green tea, listening to iTunes on my computer and French news on TV, and enjoying something du chocolat from the sweets shop down the street from me. As relaxing as this is, it was quite a journey to get here. Shall we start from the beginning?
Day One – Paris 
Last I wrote (I mean aside from the blog entry to ease the minds of my parents) I was at the Woodstock hostel enjoying the company of three roommates – a pair of cousins from Spain who had interesting things to tell me about Spanish dancing, and a girl from Germany who was taking a tour of Europe before going back home to go to university. Everyone at the hostel spoke English, and that made me really envious of the European system of education. The girl from Germany (whose name I promptly forgot) spoke German, English, Spanish and French. She’d been taking them in school for ten years. I wish I had that kind of experience with foreign languages. I admit I’m not sure exactly what the policies are in the US right now, but when I was in school we were only required to take two years of a foreign language. And in my high school, two years was about the equivalent of one semester of college language. Language is so important if you ever want to travel outside your home country. Even with three semesters under my belt, I have been totally lost traveling through Paris. I only understand about 30% of what I hear. I think that’s improving by the minute, though.
Side note: “Mr. Vain” is playing on my iTunes playlist right now, and that gives me happy memories of a certain yellow motorcycle.
Anyway, I wish that I had socialized more with the people at the Woodstock. Most of the people in the courtyard were American, so we could have talked, but the truth is I was feeling kind of shy and didn’t really want to talk to anyone new. I was missing everyone at home so much that I was much happier to stay in my room with free wifi and call my parents and Tapan, and gchat with anyone that was online. At the time I wasn’t sure why I was unmotivated to go socialize, but it was better that I stayed in my room. At about 9pm, this guy Ian from Chicago, who had stayed in my bed the previous night, came knocking at the door. He was supposed to have flown out to Dublin earlier in the day, but when he went to the airport, his airline swore up and down that he was not in their system and they had never heard of him. They weren’t very hospitable to him and his only choice was to come back to the hostel. Woodstock was booked, as were all the other hostels he tried, and so he had no place to stay that night. He also didn’t have much money, and had no idea how to get in touch with his mother in Chicago. Lucky for him I had my
MagicJack (yeah that was product placement, and I’m not ashamed – this thing is awesome!) and I let him use it to call his mom.
Three hours later he had successfully rebooked with his mother’s credit card for the flight, and he also found a hostel in Dublin for the next night. I was so happy to help him, and he kept apologizing for the inconvenience. Of course I didn’t mind. It felt good to help a fellow traveler. I know if I were in his place, I would want someone to help me. And he really needed the help seeing as how he only spoke a few words of French. Ian was so thankful that he even gave me some money, and insisted that I take it. I tried to tell him no, that he needed it more than me, but he assured me that his mom would wire him some in Dublin. There was really no way I could give it back, and I can’t say I wasn’t happy about the offer. Ian basically paid for my room at the Woodstock and my train to Lisieux the next day.
You know, I admire Ian a lot. He came to France a month and a half ago to join the legion and ended up staying a little longer. It seems he is a careless traveler – and by that I don’t mean stupid or naïve, I just mean he is without care about the future, and how he will get there. I only knew him for a couple hours, but it seemed he was OK with not knowing where things were going to go, exaclty. He planned to go to Dublin and pick up a job somewhere if that’s what he had to do. I wish that I could travel where the road takes me like that, but I could never see myself going somewhere without income, or a fixed job, or a contact. Thanks for everything Ian, I really appreciate it, and bon courage avec votre voyage!
By the time he left, I was exhausted. It was 1 am and I hadn’t slept the night before. I talked with Tapan a little before my internet time ran out, and then went to sleep. I would have to wake up really early the next morning. And you know what’s super? My alarm clock on my phone was not working and I forgot my travel alarm. Miss Germany set her alarm for me, but I went to sleep super-stressed that night because I wasn’t sure if I could rely on that alarm. And I had to get to Lisieux on time the next morning to meet with my contact at Collège Michelet. On top of all that, I’d forgotten to buy my ticket online for the train, and the schedules online looked like there would be no trains until late in the afternoon, which would make me miss my appointment at the school and leave me to find my own room the next night. Aahhh!
I wanted to cry, but like all the other times I’d wanted to cry the past week, there were people around me and I had to stifle the tears. It was hard to sleep, as I was in a foreign place in a foreign country, and there was a lot of noise in the hostel. Before I knew it, my roommate was (thankfully) waking me up. Another day had just begun!
Day Two – Paris/LisieuxPart One – Journey to LisieuxOnce I woke up on Thursday I went downstairs and had my first taste of French food! (I had been so overwhelmed with travel that I had forgotten to eat anything the previous day) French breakfast was simple: baguettes avec le beurre et le jams de freses et l’orange (bread with butter and orange/strawberry jams). I had two pieces and some water and then asked the man at the counter if he could call me a cab to the train station. My arms were exhausted from carting my luggage all over Paris, and there was no way I was going to make it up and down all the metro stairs by myself. As an aside, I would like to ask France: where are all the escalators? Don’t you have people with disablities? Back to my story, the receptionist tried to call a cab, but when I went downstairs again, he had some bad news: there were no cabs available. There was a train strike in Paris that I had no idea was going on. I might be able to find a taxi on the street, but I would probably have to get on the metro to get to the station.
A train strike? Did I hear him correctly? Could this really be happening? What was I going to do?
I didn’t have time to think about it too much. I was holding back tears as it was, and I just wanted to move. So I packed my bags, bought a bottle of water, and was on my way. As soon as I began to pull the bags felt the worst pain in my neck. Where was Emari with whatever yoga move would relieve the tension? Where was Tapan with a neck rub for me? Not here. And that thought was enough to break me. I think it was the first time I realized just how far away I was from everything I love, everyone I care about. That was it. There was no way I could stop the tears now. I had to find a park bench to collect myself.
As I was sitting in that park, I watched a flock of schoolchildren walk through, giggling and chattering. How I envied them in that moment. So carefree, so free in general it seemed. I hope they are never lost in a different country with heavy bags and no contact closer than an hour away. Even if they are, they’ll probably know how to ask for help with their knowledge of languages. I looked at my cell phone once again. Still no service. It was like 2am in the US anyway, but I had never wanted so badly to call my mom. She’s the one I always call when things get overwhelming to the point of tears, and there was no way I could reach her. If she only knew how much I missed her at that moment, even now as I write this. It’s indescribably hard.
Anyway, I had to stop being an emo kid. No time for that nonsense. I had to keep moving. Even if there was a train strike, I had to try. I made it to the metro and down the stairs. I managed to buy my ticket in French and get through the turnstile with two suitcases (which is really really hard). Then down another set of stairs, no escalator in sight. A man tried to help me, but I remembered everything I had heard about people running off with suitcases, so I said non, merci.
When the first metro pulled up, I think I was having a mini-panic attack. My breathing was heavy, my heart was racing, I was über-sweaty, and I could see that this particular line was jam-packed. You know that fear I have of cramped places? Yeah, I had to get over that real quick. I had to fight my way on too, because no one wanted to be stuck on this crowded, stinky metro with a silly American struggling with two suitcases. Lucky for them, I only had one stop.
I got off at Pigalle and found the correct line for the train station – at least my intuition for subways was improving! I was immediately confronted with…more stairs? Are they kidding? We were already underground! At this point, I was so tired I thought I might pass out right there in the station. I’m sure my face resembled a cherry, and I probably stunk of sweat. I had to take the stairs one at a time, then lift one suitcase down to the next step, then do the other. A kind woman asked me if I needed help, and this time, I gave in. Let her steal it, I thought. It would be lighter for me after that. But of course she just left it for me at the landing.
I followed more signs for my line, and guess what I found after a long hallway? You got it: more stairs! I couldn’t believe my eyes. I broke. Couldn’t hold in the tears anymore. I let another man help me down this set, and at the bottom a couple of people were concerned about me. They asked if I was OK and I just answered, “Oiu, ça va, merci.” What else could I say? I couldn’t really articulate what was wrong with me. It was like my French had dissipated completely. I was crying, preparing myself for another set of stairs, when finally I saw the metro line.
I turned around to do some breathing and collect myself when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to see a woman, and she asked me if I was OK. Then she asked me again in English, and she wouldn’t let me just brush her off. I explained to her what was going on – how my bags were so heavy and I had just arrived yesterday, and hadn’t slept much, etc., and she listened. She helped me get my bags on the metro and told me which exit I wanted. She even asked a man if I could sit. He promptly shrugged us off. Her presence really calmed me, and allowed me to stop crying. I asked her name. It’s Rajia – a beautiful name suitable for her lovely personality.
At my stop, I thanked her profusely, and she told me she would help me with my train ticket, no question. I was so appreciative, though I felt like I was a bit of an inconvenience. She assured me it was fine – her boss was off that day, so she could be a little late for work. She told me she knows what it’s like to be in a situation like mine, and she really believes in helping others. And help me she did! She carried one of my two bags all the way to the station, and helped me buy my ticket and find the correct gate. I got her e-mail and phone number, and she asked me to please come visit her in Paris, without my bags. She suggested we go on a tour of the city sometime. I would love to go visit her and her two kids! And I fully plan to send her a nice present. Merci beaucoup Rajia, pour tout de votre aide!
While I was waiting for my train at the station, I realized something. There’s this stigma about the French. A lot of people have done nothing but tell me that the French hate Americans, and I am crazy for wanting to come here. But you know what? Those people are completely delusional, and they’ve probably never really been here. See, what I learned that morning on the metro is that French people are just people. Some are rude, yes, but most are not. Rajia was truly surprised that that man on the metro didn’t give me his seat. I feel indebted to the people who were willing to help me, a crying American, with my heavy luggage. And I feel so grateful that people like Rajia exist – she’s got her own life to worry about, complete with kids and a job, but she still took time out of her day to help me, a complete stranger, and she didn’t ask for anything in return.
Believe me when I say I’m going to pay that one forward.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pay_it_forward
The train ride to Lisieux was peaceful, with a great view:
Once I was out of Paris, I began to feel much calmer. I guess I just don’t do too well with cities. I’m the same way about New York, especially when I’m alone. The train ride was about an hour and a half. And the cars were just like the ones in
Eurotrip! When I got off the bus, I could see the Basillique Sainte Thérèse (insert link). I can’t wait to see it closer, and take lots of pics for GPop and GMom A. Even from such a distance, it is breathtaking:
Once in Lisieux, I knew everything was going to be different. Maybe it’s because Tapan was fasting for me (Thank you love, I am eternally grateful). It was easy to find a cab and it only took five minutes to get to Collège Michelet. I was greeted with a set of iron gates (pictures to come later). Hmmmm. How was I going to get in? Ah, someone was coming to the school. I asked her if she worked there. And I had no problem asking. It’s as if Paris had stunted my French, and the calm atmosphere of Lisieux had allowed it to re-emerge! I introduced myself as the assistant of English, and she let me in. She allowed me to put my bags in the principal’s office and introduced me to him. Monsieur Martin is a genial older man with the most wonderful moustache I have ever seen. Neither he nor the woman spoke English, but it was OK. They asked me if I was hungry, and I said yes. They treated me to a free cafeteria lunch.
Here’s the thing about cafeteria food in France (well, at least in my school): it is delicious! And there’s a huge variety of things to choose from! For my first meal (I wish I’d remembered to take a photo), I had bread, a salad, a plate of macaroni, and a main dish with egg, potatoes, cauliflower and a cream sauce. I met a lot of people in the teacher’s cafeteria: a French teacher from Romania (which reminds me of Vampires the class. Ugh. Ask Donna.), a math teacher named David (who recognized New Jersey because of Bon Jovi and Bruce Springsteen), and two of the English teachers! Everyone was so nice to me, and I realized just how much I’m going to love it here.
My English teachers speak to me in a mix of French and English, which is much appreciated right now. I’m not quite ready to be immersed in all French all the time. Soon, though, I hope.
After lunch, we went to the teacher’s lounge where I met some more welcoming people. I was supposed to observe classes that afternoon, but I must have had some serious baggage under my eyes, because everyone kept saying that I should rest instead. And not to worry: they had arranged housing for me! It was the most dominant of my worries, and it was a major relief to hear that I could scratch it from that list. Karen, a very beautiful English teacher, and Natalie, the headmistress of sorts, drove me to the nearby high school – Lycée Gambier – and helped me with my bags.
There we met the housing director, Loeiza (say: Louisa), who like so many others was super welcoming and helpful. She took me to my building and showed me two available rooms right next to each other. And, since I was the first to arrive, I got to pick between the two!
They were both similar, with a bed, a chair, a table, a fully equipped kitchen, an armoire, a closet, and a bathroom, but I had to go for the room with the yellow tablecloth, of course!
After I chose my room, Karen, Loeiza and I returned downstairs to sign the papers for the housing. And, to my great relief, I found out that the rent is only 120€ a month! I think that’s a little less than $200. Awesome! Karen had to go back to classes so I stayed to finish some things with Loeiza, who doesn’t speak English. She gave me a tour of the building and gave me my keys.
Here is the school:
Here is my building:
The door to my wing:
My door:
Much to my relief, and my parents’ I’m sure, everything at the school is really secure. It’s gated which means no one can get in without a key. And there are two locked doors to open before you can get to my room. So mom and dad, that’s three locks. There’s also a night watchman who, obviously, watches the place at night. I feel wayyy safe here!
I informed Loeiza that I would need an alarm clock (I had to be at school the next morning at 9:30am. She kindly offered to take me to the store at 6pm so I could get some sleep. Of course I didn’t sleep though. I was too excited to unpack. There’s something about putting your personal things into a space that makes it feel like home. And I need this place to feel as much like home as I can!
I couldn’t be happier with my room. I get five French channels on the TV (the first thing I saw on TV was Law and Order, Sharon and Andy!), and everything is the perfect size for one person. And the chair in the studio sort of reminds me of the Americana chair from 1725. A happy reminder of home. I made my bed with the sheet I brought from home and sprayed it down with Tapan’s body spray. Gotta make use of those olfactory senses as much as possible!
Day Two: PromenadeLoeiza arrived at 6pm, just like she said she would, and she showed me all around town. The center of the town is a two minute walk from Gambier, and there is so much going on there! (Pics to come later.) We first went to this technology store called Darty. I was proud of myself when I handled everything without Loeiza’s help. She was there if I needed her, but I successfully told the employees I wanted an alarm clock and specified which one. It was only 7€ but they gave me a guarantee on it! So I plan to leave it for next year’s assistant when I go home.
After buying the alarm clock we went to Monoprix, a supermarket. The cheese aisle really does go on forever! I was shocked to see how many American brands there are. I tried my best to stay away from them though. I want everything during this trip to be French! Except lady products of course. Sometimes it’s best to stick with what you know works. But for everything else – food, tea, beauty products, I want to be as authentic as possible. Hey don’t judge me! The Clean and Clear is from home. And Garnier is French!
After the Supermarket, Loeiza took me to her favorite boulangerie/patisserie (bread and sweets shop). There, I bought my first baguette (which should make Chris Holt happy)!
When we got back to the school, Loeiza invited me back into her flat Isn’t it adorable? The inside is even better! We had some wine – a delicious sweetened white wine – and some nuts. And we talked! I mean really had a conversation in French. I’m so happy that I can really do it. We talked about my day, my life in America, her boyfriend, even American politics! I said a lot of things to her, such as “I don’t know how George Bush is the president,” “I hope there are some persons here who will talk with me about politics American,” and (after she left the room for a minute and I focused on the TV) “Sometimes I’m stupid – I watched the TV and I thought ‘why is she speaking French?’ Then I realized,” and Loeiza joins me and we say in unison, “ah, I am in France!” and we giggle about my mistake. Together. I made a joke and she understood. Utter triumph!
I had a great time with her, but I was getting hungry so, after thanking her profusely for being so kind to me, I headed back to my room and made my first baguette into a yummy sandwich with camembert (a soft cheese) and poulet (chicken). Here’s a video I made for my friends:
Just ignore the whole “Don’t tell anyone” part, since I just blogged everything.
After eating and showering, I found this gem:
It’s one of those super old washing basins. It fits in my sink and I can plug it into the wall and do small loads of laundry with it! Now I don’t have to pay for the lavomatique. Once I did my laundry, cleaned up and hung the clothes in various places to dry, I watched some Buffy in French and went to sleep. By the way, I can understand a lot more of the words in Buffy now.
The day had gone by so fast and I found myself depressed. I hadn’t had the chance to use the internet at all to call my parents or Tapan or any of my friends. I really wish I had internet in my room, but what can you do? I ended up crying myself to sleep. Really horrendously crying even despite the great day I had. I guess I just had to get it all out of my system, all the tears I had suppressed all week. I just hoped I would feel better in the morning.
Day three: Lisieux - Teaching 
Bon journée! How do I look? Cause I feel a whole lot better than I did last night! In this pic, I am about to leave for my first day of observing classes! I gave myself an hour to get to school, because I wasn’t sure exactly how big Lisieux is. And the hour was good, because I got lost twice. But in getting lost, I found a really great public garden, the post office, my bank and a beautiful church. And even with the getting lost I still got to school fifteen minutes early. Lisieux is so small that nothing in the town is more than twenty minutes away by foot, when you don’t get lost anyway.
When I got to school I met another English teacher, Phillip, who is fascinating! He is Scottish but he doesn’t want the kids to learn that accent, so when he’s in class he switches into an English accent. It’s one of the most interesting linguistic things I’ve seen so far. The kids were awesome! They seemed pretty excited to see me. His class had 27 students of about 11 years old. During group session I even walked around and asked if I could see how they were doing. After class, some of the students were excited to ask me questions, like “When did you arrive,” and “How long will you be here,” before they had to rush off to recess.
After Phillip’s class, I observed Karen’s class. She had 28 pupils of older kids, like 13-15. And they were just like typical teenagers. Lots of piercings, more lipliner on some of the girls than I’ve ever had in my possession. Karen let them ask me as many questions as they wanted. My favorite: “Do you know 50 cent?” My response: “Go shawty, it’s your birthday.”
After her class, one particularly attentive student had a lot of questions for me. She plans to go to university, and she wanted to know if Americans would understand her if she spoke British English. And she spoke very well, so I assured her she would be fine aside from some tiny differences in phrasing. Like how in British English an eraser is called a rubber, and she should remember to call it an eraser.
During lunch I socialized with the English teachers, and we made plans to take some of the students on a trip to the D-Day Landing beaches. I am so excited! We are also going to go on a wine- and cheese-tasting tour (without the students of course). After lunch I filled out my social security papers (yay for universal health care!) and then I walked home. And on the way, I stopped at the medi@theque (a library and media center in one) and signed up for a membership, which is only 12 € for an entire year! I tried to blog there, but it proved impossible – the keyboards are totally different! The amount of typos I make is absurd.
Rachel could not stop laughing at me as we were gchatting, I’m sure. I got a movie to watch, called Naked. I’m not sure if it’s French or just translated, but I’m excited to see what it’s all about.
And that’s precisely what I’m going to do now. Relax with this movie and some thé vert, because tomorrow I’m waking up early and going straight to the medi@theque. Because I have blogs and news to catch up on. Rach told me about Washington Mutual. Oh boy.
It’s quite a time to be away from the US. Especially because I just started giving a damn about the state of our country.
Highlights of the day:
-When I walked by a bush that smelled of pine, it put a smile on my face because I thought of Christmas. I wish someone would come visit me for the holidays :(
-When a student wanted to ask me a question and she didn’t know the word for boyfriend, she said, “Do you have a lover?” What could I do but nod?
-When I bought stamps from the post office. The cashier understood me perfectly and I didn’t have to repeat a thing.
-Epic fail of the day: I took out money from the ATM at the post office, because I didn’t know if there was a BNP (sister bank of Bank of America) in Lisieux, and I wanted to have some cash on me. I paid a $5.00 surcharge and 1% of my withdrawal, when at BNP I would only pay the 1% of withdrawal. BNP, I soon discovered, was three doors down.
See me, all sweaty and dehydrated. What a day to forget water! At least my face isn't cherry red yet. It's usually a traitor that way. So far France has done a lot to remind me just how out of shape I am. I think it was just yesterday that my arms recovered from pulling bags all around Paris, so I guess it's about time for another body part to be sore. 
Once I got to Laplace, the school, I met with all four English teachers. They are all female, and they are all beautiful. We set up my schedule. I will be teaching there on Monday afternoons and on Friday mornings. I didn’t actually meet any of the kids today, or observe classes. I’ll have to wait until next Monday for that. 
It was a really awesome day because there was some sort of festival happening. I think it was French Community Day (just ignore the part where it only takes place in Belgium). There were all these vendors in the streets, kind of like Columbus Mart, and they were selling clothes, books, jewelry, food, shoes. The people here are obsessed with Converse, I've noticed.
After the play was over, I went to the library, where I found Thirteen, the most horrifying movie ever made. And I realized after watching it in French that the dialogue is pretty minimal, and easy to understand! I also checked out an abridged childrens' version of Dracula, which I think will be fun to translate.
Last I wrote (I mean aside from the blog entry to ease the minds of my parents) I was at the Woodstock hostel enjoying the company of three roommates – a pair of cousins from Spain who had interesting things to tell me about Spanish dancing, and a girl from Germany who was taking a tour of Europe before going back home to go to university. Everyone at the hostel spoke English, and that made me really envious of the European system of education. The girl from Germany (whose name I promptly forgot) spoke German, English, Spanish and French. She’d been taking them in school for ten years. I wish I had that kind of experience with foreign languages. I admit I’m not sure exactly what the policies are in the US right now, but when I was in school we were only required to take two years of a foreign language. And in my high school, two years was about the equivalent of one semester of college language. Language is so important if you ever want to travel outside your home country. Even with three semesters under my belt, I have been totally lost traveling through Paris. I only understand about 30% of what I hear. I think that’s improving by the minute, though. 
Anyway, I wish that I had socialized more with the people at the Woodstock. Most of the people in the courtyard were American, so we could have talked, but the truth is I was feeling kind of shy and didn’t really want to talk to anyone new. I was missing everyone at home so much that I was much happier to stay in my room with free wifi and call my parents and Tapan, and gchat with anyone that was online. At the time I wasn’t sure why I was unmotivated to go socialize, but it was better that I stayed in my room. At about 9pm, this guy Ian from Chicago, who had stayed in my bed the previous night, came knocking at the door. He was supposed to have flown out to Dublin earlier in the day, but when he went to the airport, his airline swore up and down that he was not in their system and they had never heard of him. They weren’t very hospitable to him and his only choice was to come back to the hostel. Woodstock was booked, as were all the other hostels he tried, and so he had no place to stay that night. He also didn’t have much money, and had no idea how to get in touch with his mother in Chicago. Lucky for him I had my MagicJack (yeah that was product placement, and I’m not ashamed – this thing is awesome!) and I let him use it to call his mom. 
Three hours later he had successfully rebooked with his mother’s credit card for the flight, and he also found a hostel in Dublin for the next night. I was so happy to help him, and he kept apologizing for the inconvenience. Of course I didn’t mind. It felt good to help a fellow traveler. I know if I were in his place, I would want someone to help me. And he really needed the help seeing as how he only spoke a few words of French. Ian was so thankful that he even gave me some money, and insisted that I take it. I tried to tell him no, that he needed it more than me, but he assured me that his mom would wire him some in Dublin. There was really no way I could give it back, and I can’t say I wasn’t happy about the offer. Ian basically paid for my room at the Woodstock and my train to Lisieux the next day. 
There we met the housing director, Loeiza (say: Louisa), who like so many others was super welcoming and helpful. She took me to my building and showed me two available rooms right next to each other. And, since I was the first to arrive, I got to pick between the two!
I couldn’t be happier with my room. I get five French channels on the TV (the first thing I saw on TV was Law and Order, Sharon and Andy!), and everything is the perfect size for one person. And the chair in the studio sort of reminds me of the Americana chair from 1725. A happy reminder of home. I made my bed with the sheet I brought from home and sprayed it down with Tapan’s body spray. Gotta make use of those olfactory senses as much as possible!
After buying the alarm clock we went to Monoprix, a supermarket. The cheese aisle really does go on forever! I was shocked to see how many American brands there are. I tried my best to stay away from them though. I want everything during this trip to be French! Except lady products of course. Sometimes it’s best to stick with what you know works. But for everything else – food, tea, beauty products, I want to be as authentic as possible. Hey don’t judge me! The Clean and Clear is from home. And Garnier is French!
When we got back to the school, Loeiza invited me back into her flat Isn’t it adorable? The inside is even better! We had some wine – a delicious sweetened white wine – and some nuts. And we talked! I mean really had a conversation in French. I’m so happy that I can really do it. We talked about my day, my life in America, her boyfriend, even American politics! I said a lot of things to her, such as “I don’t know how George Bush is the president,” “I hope there are some persons here who will talk with me about politics American,” and (after she left the room for a minute and I focused on the TV) “Sometimes I’m stupid – I watched the TV and I thought ‘why is she speaking French?’ Then I realized,” and Loeiza joins me and we say in unison, “ah, I am in France!” and we giggle about my mistake. Together. I made a joke and she understood. Utter triumph!
It’s one of those super old washing basins. It fits in my sink and I can plug it into the wall and do small loads of laundry with it! Now I don’t have to pay for the lavomatique. Once I did my laundry, cleaned up and hung the clothes in various places to dry, I watched some Buffy in French and went to sleep. By the way, I can understand a lot more of the words in Buffy now. 
Bon journée! How do I look? Cause I feel a whole lot better than I did last night! In this pic, I am about to leave for my first day of observing classes! I gave myself an hour to get to school, because I wasn’t sure exactly how big Lisieux is. And the hour was good, because I got lost twice. But in getting lost, I found a really great public garden, the post office, my bank and a beautiful church. And even with the getting lost I still got to school fifteen minutes early. Lisieux is so small that nothing in the town is more than twenty minutes away by foot, when you don’t get lost anyway. 
Sorry about the glare. Those are Beatles right?
I was so hoping she would make it a little further. But Laverne Cox, the beautiful dancing queen trans woman, was kicked off I Wanna Work for Diddy on last night's episode. The reason I am upset is not because she is gone - hell, my favorite contestants never win reality shows (except for Dee of course) so I can't say I'm surprised. It's the reason Laverne was fired that bothers the hell out of me.
