J'ai 20 years

So the one present I told my friends I wanted was to not plan anything myself on my birthday. I find I spend a hunk of time each week putting myself under the pressure of doing random tasks that I assign myself like travel outlines, writing, Podclub, this summer, etc…. you know you’re in a good place when if you weren’t living your life, you’d wish you were. But this coupled with my French school stuff can get a little involved so the 26^th was going to be my day of “fuck it”.

Naturally I spent the first half of it eyeball-deep in preparation for a presentation on the Greek stadiums at Delphi and Olympia. Luckily I had an amazing partner who bought me coffee and did most of the French work (French work= ALL of the work) while me and Cléos, the “breakdancing rabbit” (the sign on the side of his cage claimed), looked on, bonded by our mutual inability to communicate or talk about Greek archeology.

Walking home after saying goodbye to Morgane, Cléos, and Biblio Café, I felt good. I stopped in a gallery that’s on my way home and hung out for a while to warm up before I crossed the stone bridge over the Clain river, which always manages to make me feel all tranquil and “zen” and whatever. I got home, was locked out of my house, bought a banana at L.Clerc (grocery store), got inside, got ready, and started to head out to meet Clara for drinks downtown. Before leaving, my host mother popped a bottle of champagne with a “C’est pas toujours tu as 20 ans!) It’s not every day you’re 20! I told her yeah, except for the next 365. She just poured me champagne. After tons of hugs and sporting the cork of the bottle around my neck like a medallion, I headed out. Convinced by my family, I called Byron to walk with me.

He: “Uh…uh……yeah! Uh…..I have something to give you, are you heading out now?”

Me: “Aw! Sweet! Yeah! Wanna come with?”

He: “Uh….I’m actually making your cake right now….”

Me: “…..”

He: “…..”

Me: “AW! I’M COMING OVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

I got to his house, and upon receiving my gift of a badass unicorn drawing he’d made, we decided to abandon the unfinished cake until the next day and hit the bricks. Arriving at Notre Dame I saw an eclectic circle of people I feel lucky to call my friends. Seriously though, hanging out together we look GOOFY! I promise that when we’re with one another I don’t think of them as their respective nationalities, but for the viewers at home it might help for some context.

Éliana from Cyprus gave me the coziest of scarves, Patrick from Canada gave me a New Brunswick magnet and a bottle of maple syrup, Clara from Oregon (and my bed the night before humina humina!) gave me a bottle of Absolute vodka, Paulo from Brazil had copied one of my old facebook profile pictures in pencil! I’ve decided to replace my mirror with it because I have never looked better. At dinner Josh let me wear his Native American barrette thingies (I’m sorry Josh I just DON’T know what else to call them) and the restaurant gave us a round on the house of their homemade pear liquor.

Such a happy and drunk little camper.

Afterwards we all went to a bar where I encountered something called “a Giraffe” which is just basically the Seattle Space Needle filled with beer.

It gets fuzzier after that.

Anyhow, as I leave my parents anxious on that note, the next day my host family surprised me yet again with a big spicy chocolate cake (with thankfully only 2 candles), a jar of Nutella, and a box of cherry liqueur chocolates on which Yanna had written things like “Happy Birthday Grandmother!” and “Naomi: Miss. Nutella”

You’re damn right Yanna.

Thoughts on turning 20? Not gonna lie, it’s a little scarier being 20 for some reason. I am so used to being the young explorer and having the people around take care of me, that breaking away from that is not an entirely comfortable thing. Coming to France I have worked hard and learned many ways with which I can hold my own and not depend on the strong mother hens I’ve been lucky enough to have in my life this far (yeah, I’m lookin’ at you Ray), and I know that they’re there if I need them. In the midst of all my angst and fear surrounding this entry point into a new decade, I think my friend Clara said it best: The 20s are amazing, everyone says so. If I think I’ve had fun so far, and I do, how much more fun is going to be available to me as I boldly go and take my place/ next step as a twenty-something?

At least I have global family to take with me, buy me “Giraffes,” and make sure I am always on the right side of danger.

Long Live Miss Nutella. 

Ask Us A Question 'Cause Class Is In Session

Those who know me know and those who don’t yet soon will know that my loyalties are bought cheap. For a free lunch ever Friday afternoon I lead an English language conversation group 12 11-year-olds strong. Today being class numero uno I went in thinking that the kids would be ready and stoked to speak English, thusly making my Fridays from 13 o’clock-14 o’clock a breeeeze.

Rookie mistake.

Well let me start by saying that the kids were AMAZING and I left the class just proud and relieved as can be. They came up with the idea of doing little scenes in English that they presented in front of the class. Highlights included a conversation between a Paleontologist and a guy who “works at the poop-farm Mac-Do” as they read from an English magazine, and a party of 3 trying to order “3 beerz of Guiness” at a restaurant.

My actor heart nearly burst.

At one point, I said “That’s badass!” to a girl who had just told me she liked “to do ze circus…..trapeze?”. When I realized what I’d said, I looked out into their puzzled little faces and knew I was in the clear. “Ça veut dire ‘Super chouette!’ mais le dites pas.” (That means “Super swell!”....but don’t say it.)

But besides how great it all was, I’ve learned that as I have been an extroverted person from day 1, I really have little to no idea what to do with shy kids. One girl sat in class and just sort of looked at me terrified-like the entire session. I ended up spending the most time with their group, trying to give them ideas for a scene to do, but still it was like pulling teeth. I just simply didn’t understand where she was coming from, as much as I wanted to.

Ugh.

I fist-bumped a kid for his pronunciation of “paleontologist” and watched him work SO hard not to smile. So awesome.

I also taught a group of girls what “friggin’ awesome” meant.

We do what we can.

JD Salinger

We have real homework here I swear!

Tag You're It! (The Reboot)

Vélove

Stats Circa Freshman Year

This is something I just unearthed last night from "back in the day" (like....2 years ago). I wrote this in the margins of my statistics notes because as much as I loved Dr. Kim, I was one TI-83 program away from loosing my mind. Anyhow I thought I would share this.

A: Will you just love me for a little while?
B: I can't.
A: Why not?
B: It doesn't make sense!
A: What doesn't make sense?
B: You! How can I love you?
A: I asked nicely, I thought it would be nice.
B: It....could be I guess, but no.
A: You want to love me, I know you do.
B: Of course I don't
A: You do. You can hardly help yourself. Why do you?
B: Why do I what?
A: Help yourself.
B: You're speaking in tongues.
A: Your tongue, your face, your lips, hair, hair, hands, shoulders
B: Stop it.
A: kneecaps, palms
B: Stop it
A: Love your palms
B: Please
A: Love you
B: STOP!
A: Why?
B: I can't!
A: Yes you can, you can do it excellently.
B: I don't want to.
A: Come on, everyone's doing it! I promise you will become fatally addicted immediately. Instantly.
B: Don't I get an opportunity to refuse?
A: You had it. You loved me anyway.
B: What right do you have to say what I feel?!
A: I'm the object of your affections, I take my authority from that.
B: Wh-
A: You come in here nearly bursting at the seams, you're so full of love. Engorged like an unmilked cow, REEKING of both fresh and stale love and expect me to be perfectly quiet! Fuck you.
B: ....I love you
A: I know. Go to hell.

Couchsurfing

    

OK, it finally happened. I found it, the thing that everyone has been talking about, the thing that has saved me from a world of fear and uncertainty. Many have tried to convince me of it’s truth, they tried very hard to guide me into it’s shining light, but I had to welcome it into my life on my own to truly build this relationship that I am confident will last a lifetime…

**cue gospel choir**

Couchsurfing.com

Good gracious people this website is amazing! The idea is that you go online, make a profile, search out people in the area where you want to travel, view their profile (read reviews, see pictures, general snoopage) send a request, and, if you’re lucky, crash on their couch for free. Sound a little sketchy? It is! And it’s great! The whole thing is founded on the idea of sharing. Sharing food, sharing space, sharing stories as a way of both economizing and enriching travel. 

I triple dog dare you to try and be Scroogy about that.

My first experience was in Rodez, France, on my way home from Winchester, England. Hugo came and picked me up, backpack, sweat and all, from the airport and took me to his parents place. The whole way I nervously stammered out my life’s story in French, which Hugo pretended to understand.

I feel like no story containing a language barrier is complete without the phrase “turns out”

Turns out Hugo plays drums in a rockabilly band called Superfriends and had a gig that night to which his girlfriend Julie and I went. Far too fun. The next day Julie took me on a car tour around the city before we bought lunch at the open market “downtown” (Rodez is tiny, though it does, according to the locals, apparently sport the tallest cathedral in France). I learned also that people from Rodez eat with super fancy pocketknives. Always.

The second and last experience (thus far) I touched on briefly in the last post. Ludovic, a proud polish Parisian with a proclivity for playing Left For Dead 2, was our host proper. His friend Etienne was like an….adjunct host if you will, and on Sunday night he walked Mallory and I to our rendez-vous point, all the while carrying my big backpack that was filled with ALL of Mallory and I’s worldly possessions (i.e. like 3 T-shirts and a sleeping bag). Gems these guys were.

Of course with great power comes great responsibility, and it’s necessary to be smart when you put yourself at the mercy of strangers and their couches/floor mattresses/ floors. Personally, I’m like a little kid with a new toy, or Batman that one time he discovered an extra pouch in his utility belt, or some weirdo who modifies her couchsurfing profile more neurotically than her facebook……

Couchsurfing. Forevah. 

Ya Done Good Paris

So dear friends and family who read this, it’s been some time now hasn’t it? As the 3 month mark is approaching, I figured I would take some time this sunny November 14, 2011 to play catch up.

Learning French:

I feel like I write a lot about learning French here and how much tougher it is than I thought, so I am going to get it out of the way quickly. It is a subject constantly on my mind (in English) because I find myself in a weird place where back home I’m fluent but, with the exception of that one lady I sat next to that one time, no one here is fooled. It feels as though the second you peg down some grammar, your syntax gets way off. You get some syntax and suddenly you can’t spell. You start spelling things correctly and your grammar is nuts again! I usually spend my dinners posing questions to my host mother, bless her heart, and setting up weird linguistic scenarios for her to explain to me which all start with “Peux je dire ____? Pourquoi?!” (Can I say ___? WhAAA???) No matter how much goofy work I put in I still feel lazy and behind sometimes, which never feels great. In good news, as ungraceful as I am expressing myself (and lets be honest, I’m just as dorky in English) I can understand almost everything. I wake up to French radio, I take French courses, I listen to French podcasts, I youtube French viral videos. Big picture? It’s all more or less good in the hood.

Paris:

As my friend Mallory and I decided to simplify our trip to Bruges into a trip to Paris I wasn’t sure what to expect. In the days leading up I hadn’t gotten a single bite on couchsurfing and was trying to keep calm and carry on in my school work at the same time (due to a mix-up I missed a midterm as a result of my OFII medical appoinment (a step in attaining my carte de séjours which is just one of the many hoops that needs jumping through to live in France) which resulted in one pissed off French professor) so I was feeling some pressure. Mallory had snagged us a ride with covoiturage (French ride share) and finally I posted, following a suggestion of a fellow couchsurfer, a final desperate plea on an emergency couch group for Paris which resulted in, with just a few hazards, us couching with the one and only Ludovic Lewandowski. Along with his friend Etienne, we all hung out during the two evenings we were in town eating Moroccan food, looking through travel photos, and drinking beer. During the day Mallory and I hit the bricks and toured around the city on foot, coffee-ing and picnicking when necessary. Overall voyage? Parfait! 

Tag You're It!