three lessons and a lucky star

Nathalie says I have a lucky star, and she is so right. I don't know what I have been smoking lately, but I have been doing really stupid things. And for some reason I haven't been completely put out. I guess they make for good stories.

Lesson One: Don't share too much on the subway in Paris
I'm travelling with a HUGE suitcase, a 20 pound bookbag, and a handbag. Lots and LOTS of shady looking dudes get on four stops away from mine. Also enter a nice older looking woman, who leans against my bookbag. I stand to rearrange my things so there's more room.

Woman: Here, I can help you lift your suitcase like this if you want.
Me: Oh, thanks, that's nice.
Woman: Oh man, this is heavy! What's in here anyway? (Joking)
Me: Oh, I'm moving here for 8 months so it's my whole life.
(Pause)
Woman: Oh No! Don't say that! Don't say that at all! There's dogs all over here. You have to say, what's in here? Oh, just..stones and rocks and important bowls, and plastic games...

Lesson Two: Don't leave your wallet at the bar/tabac
Even if the woman behind you turns out to be really nice and finds it and gives it to the man at the register, and even if you realize five minutes later and run down the street to go get it back, just don't ever ever leave your wallet with ALL your money and id and important numbers in the bar/tabac.

Lesson Three: When you buy a phone card, don't leave the receipt with the code on it at the register
Similar to lesson two. Even if the cashier gives it to the manager and you go get it back ASAP, it's just much easier if you remember to take it with you right away and not risk losing 20 euros.

Voila my lessons. Things I already know, but I've been completely absent-minded here. I have to get better!

The most exciting thing that happened to me yesterday

I've just prepared my dinner (rice with black beans in a tomato onion sauce that will make you want to marry me) and am sitting down to eat. With a flick of my wrist, I knock over my American-sized cup of water - not one of those wimpy canteen glasses - all over the floor. It takes the entirety of my bath towel to sop up most of the fluid. I'm feeling pretty damn clumsy, and sad that no one is with me to make the Oh, Ashley remark. Also, I've been buying all of my water and feel that this is at least a sixty-five cent waste.

After I've hung my towel to dry, I sit down again to enjoy my meal. Within 45 seconds I've flipped my bowl upside down onto the floor and there is now splattered ricey beany sauce stretching almost to all four corners of my apartment. I ask myself what the hell my problem is. I have no answer. I do feel happy though, as I clean the resulting mess, that there's all that water on the floor to lift the stains.

France: Pays du Chat, and other holiday stories

It's Christmas Eve. Which for me means the Christmas holiday is over. In France, if I understand correctly, most of the celebrating happens on the Eve, and the 25th is a day to relax and do something simple with the family. Of course I learned this from Milena, who doesn't speak English, so there's a chance something got lost in translation.

Well, this past few days have certainly been, well, interesting. I packed my bags for Caen (where I've been staying with Milena all week) on Sunday, hopped on the train and arrived by sunset. We took the (extremely) long walk to where we're staying and when we arrived at the house, I was greeted by two cats. For me, this is not a good thing. See, I love cats. But cats really hate me. I'm allergic. Not just I-get-a-little-irritated allergic, but my-nose-won't-stop-running-my-eyes-are-itchy-I'm-wheezing-what-the-hell-are-cats-good-for-anyway allergic. Luckily, or so I thought, I had my medicine.

I passed a good night with Milena. We talked a lot, I learned some new vocabulary I didn't know, and we had a dinner that for me was more like an American breakfast. But hey, I miss American breakfast, so it was OK. My only complaint about night number one: the house was freezing. But hey, I've got a sweater. It's all good.

Monday was generic - gras matinee, a little food shopping, a Father of the Bride on TV. Nothing exciting. Except that, despite my medicine, I could feel the allergies coming on. Part of the problem was that it was freezing again and I had no choice but to lay under a cathair-infested blanket for hours. Not good I know, but I really, really hate the cold.

Tuesday's where it gets good. We decided to take a bike ride to the coast. The person whose house we're staying in has two bikes. One very nice, very high girl-bike, and one old-ass low to the ground boy-bike. I started off with the boy bike - kind of like the one my dad bought me this summer. Pretty, but not easy to ride. By thirty minutes in I was exhausted. Sweaty, all red in the face, parched. But Milena and I switched bikes and everything was better. I rode the good bike all the way to the coast (another half hour/forty-five minutes) and wasn't even tired yet!

Once we got to the coast we took a long walk on the beach, enjoying our oranges, cheese and bread. But like all good things, that promenade ended too soon and we had to bike back to the center of town. Milena took the good bike this time and my legs reminded me after two turns of the shit-bike's pedals that I had not prepared them for this journey. I was already sore and we had a long way ahead of us. To make things even awesomer, when tried to stand on the bike to gain a little momentum (also to give my butt a rest from the evil chair), my jeans caught on the gear and I made a slow-motion tumble to the ground where I smashed my head on the pavement and did some kind of yoga with my legs where they ended up wrapped around the bike like a pretzel. Does it sound fun? Cause it totally wasn't. And as I lifted my head from the street I saw a car approaching! I was worried, but the man stopped and even got out of the car to ask me if I was OK. I told him that, as usual, I was fine but embarrassed.

By the time we got back to the house, we had ridden the bikes for four hours, and Milena told me that round trip it was 80 km. Which is 50 miles! So even if I'm paying for it today, I can say I biked 50 miles. Rock out. And bonus: I got to meet more of C's family and see her parents again. You know, the ones I wrote about before who live at the house of my dreams. What an awesome family. If you're reading this, thanks for thinking of me on the holidays!

And tonight I had another dinner with some friends of Milena's. 3 expats and one pat. It was a nice combination. It would have been better if there wasn't a cat though. Once again, I couldn't stop sneezing, wheezing, and in general feeling pooey. Please, if you pray, pray I don't have a cold. Let's just hope it's allergies and they go away once I return home.

Well, folks, that's all I have for now. It's beyond bedtime. I hope that blog made sense. If it didn't, blame it on the head trauma.

I leave you with a clip of the church choir singing my favorite carol:




Have a good holiday, everyone!

Christmas came to Lisieux

I thought I would be able to forget about Christmas this year. Being away from my family and friends sucks. So I figured I would just convince myself that Christmas is just a day like any other day. Hey, Tapan doesn't celebrate Christmas, I thought, I'll just pretend like I'm him.

Not so. First, the Christmas Market came to Lisieux. For such a small town square as we have, there certainly were a surprising amount of vendors. Santa hats for sale, hot wine, chi-chi (like funnel cake in thin strips), handmade soaps, special teas, all kinds of great stuff. I even bought a mesh tea ball so now I can drink loose-leaf tea. How chic is that?

Then, Lizzi and I went to an English choir, which was a really fun way to get into the Christmas spirit and hear/sing some nostalgic English hymns. And, on the way back, we ran into this cute little tree and presents that was all spray-painted with fake snow. Nice touch, Lisieux.

And then, to really get myself into the spirit, I bought my very first very own Christmas tree. OK so maybe a cactus is not the conventional tree of the holidays, but I wanted something original. I know all the followers of Oh, Ashley are just waiting to know how long it took me to stab myself with my new cactus. Well, I wouldn't want to disappoint anyone. It took circa ten seconds. And I didn't just stab myself. I happened to stab myself in a vein. And it was all purple and hurty for two days. Because of this, I named my cactus after one of my brattiest students. And then I decorated my Nicolas with some Xmasey stuff and set my new camel right next to him. Sweet!

I'm going to Caen to spend Christmas with Milena. I think it's gonna rock. And then I'm going to a costume New Year Party! I hope everyone has a great holiday and an awesome New Year.

I don't know when I'll be on again, so I'll leave you with this, my favorite clip from A Charlie Brown Christmas:

Laundry Fail, The Second

I did laundry again. I went to the same Lavomatique and when I walked in, I heard a beeping noise. One of the machines was beeping, and the screen read “Porte” = door. I thought that was strange, because usually the doors are left open and it’s no problem. But I felt in a helping mood, so I closed the door. And then the cycle started. Nooooo! That was my laundry karma! So for the next 40 minutes, I watched my karma swoosh around – water in an otherwise empty washing machine.

Oh, Ashley...Overseas!

I was walking back into my studio from the toilet in the hallway this morning, and I walked full force into my bathroom door. My ear took most of the hit. It's really sore now, and there is dried emerald green stuff on my second earring. Hmm. Can you break your ear?

Laundry Fail

On Sunday I decided I had to do laundry. OK, that’s not the whole truth. It wasn’t so much a decision as it was an act made mandatory by my fairly ripe smell. Laundry intimidates me and I tried to put it off as long as possible. But it had been almost three weeks, which means I’d worn every outfit more than once. And I’d say I trekked the hell-hill to work five or six times in those clothes. So it was desperate times for laundry.

Why does laundry intimidate me, you ask? I’ve never done it on my own. It’s always been mom and dad’s washer and dryer. I’ve known how to operate them since I was 11. Yeah, I did laundry once at the Ocean City Laundromat, but Chris Moore was there to help me. It’s easy when someone else tells you where the quarters go. Laundry in France? They don’t even have quarters. How was this going to work? And I was all alone. No one to help me. Humph.

So I walked to the nearest laverie (Laundromat) and took a look around. There were 8 washers and 4 huge dryers. And there was a pay center too, which was a big wall with lots of numbers, a place for money to go in, and a place that looked like it was where a card would come out. Of course, everything was written in French, and I doubted I would be able to read it. So I tried to figure it out with logic. It seemed to me that if I put money into this wall, a card would come out the slot, and the card would be good for one cycle. Or maybe some tokens would come out, like at Chuck E Cheese. I would then walk over to my washer and insert my shiny new card or tokens. OK, I thought, as I deposited my money into the machine. I win at laundry.

After I put my money in, I didn’t get anything. Then I realized I had to choose my washer. So I picked my lucky number 4. I heard something drop into the slot where I thought my card or my tokens would be, but it was just my change. I waited patiently until I heard water running. Yep, washer #4 had started, and my clothes were still in their laundry bag on top of the machine! I tried to open the door, but it was tightly closed until the end of the cycle. 4 Euros gone. Damn. I don’t want to grieve too much over 4 Euros, but it’s not like I have all that much right now.

So I loaded my clothes into washer 1 and repeated the process. I was worried I would screw up the dryer system too, because I was running out of money, and it would suck to return home with wet clothes. Luckily for me, all went well with that.

You know what the worst part was about the whole laundry fiasco? As I was waiting for my clothes to finish, I spent a lot of time looking at the signs. And you know what? I could read all of them. Maybe if I hadn’t been so worried about not speaking French I would have realized that the instructions were mostly pictures, and the process was so easy a caveman could do it.

Oh well, c’est la vie.

Day in Pictures, Ashley Style

Taking a cue from my primary international news source, I present:

Ashley's Day in Pictures!



It started in the Chicago O'Hare Airport when I traded some American dollars for some cold, hard Euros. Check 'em out!









Then I boarded a plane to Paris and flew threw a sunset:

which doesn't look that different from the sunrise:

After landing at Charles de Gaulle, I had to find my hostel, which proved harder than it seemed. I got lost in the airport, I got lost on the metro, and I got wayyyy lost in Paris (I didn't realize I was walking in the wrong direction until I got to the previous metro stop). After 2.5 hours of carting around my life in two suitcases, I made it, and was super pleased with what I found:

I think this is the best part:


And I bet Cara would think this is the best part: Sorry about the glare. Those are Beatles right?

And here's a sign from Woodstock's kitchen:























Isn't it a great symbol of interconnectedness? I've been thinking a lot about that lately. In fact, I think I'll share with you my journal entry on it from last night's plane ride. Forgive me if it make no sense. I didn't sleep.

"September 23rd, 5PM (Chicago)
Airplanes are incredible. Right now I am sitting on a 767 Boeing jet. That means it has three columns (like I've only seen in the movies). There are 42 rows on this one. That means, when it's full to capacity, there are 294 people. Plus captains, attendants, and all the luggage in the cargo hold. That is a f***ton of weight! What an incredible invention. It can't possibly be good for the environment. Will they ever engineer smart planes?

I CAN NOT BELIEVE I AM DOING THIS.

I really don't have the cajones for this type of travel. What was I thinking when I accepted this assistantship?

Calm down, Ashley. You're just nervous. You've got a lot of love and support back home. People have faith in you.

The captain just made his announcement and I am realizing that this is the last official announcement I will hear in English. I am about to fly away from my home country into a foreign one, where I will be expected to speak and understand French. I will communicate with people using that language, and prepare students to do the same thing with my language. I have never before felt so connected. To the French, to Tapan who did this when he came to the US, to travelers everywhere who do this all the time.

And I'd like to end this meditation on connectedness by saying I am really glad that the seat next to me is empty. 8 hours. Leg room. All I'm sayin."


Wasn't enough leg room. Didn't sleep. Severely jetlagged. More to come soon!

France, Day 1

Bonjour tout le monde!

I am currently sitting in Woodstock hostel in Gare du Nord across from half of a Volkswagon beetle mounted onto the wall. It is awesome, the staff is friendly (and English-speaking), and I am proud of myself for getting here in one piece.

Today in moments:
-First word spoken in French in France: (not surprisingly) excusez-moi.
-Cofidence Boosters: Got through customs; successfully asked employee if I was in the correct line; Bought ticket to RER; Managed to get from RER to Subway to Metro to Woodstock Hostel with two giant bags all by myself.
-Confidence Buster: When we got off the plane the door was shut and someone had to say, "Open the door. The door is shut." I know how to say this, but could not. Someone else came to the rescue. Also, a man on the RER sneezed, and, though I can well say "bless you," I did not. No one blessed him.

Only one minute of internet time left. Will update again soon!

i lost my camera cord

i have so much to blog about. france. nummy island. foot-eating sandals. hair. snuff. and they all require photos. so what i must do is find that usb cord. oh, ashley.