According to ye olde oracle, aka the RATP website, things are getting back to normal. And somehow the RER is back to normal overnight. Whatever. I just hope it starts working outside of Paris again so I can pick my mom up at the airport next week.
Anyway, the past couple days were marred by the transportation nightmare. Actually on Wednesday Paris 3 was still closed, so we had class at a cafe and MICEFA paid for our coffee. Not a bad deal. That afternoon my class at Nanterre was all systems go, but we had a to take a train there, a train that left at 2:06 and if we missed it, we'd be about an hour late to class. So I waited for the bus for a while, it came and was too full. Another one came, and I got on with my face practically smooshed against the doors. When we were about 5 minutes from Chatelet, the door closed across my big toe and effectively ripped off my cuticle. So there I am, stressed out, bleeding, and without much oxygen. This quickly turned into nausea and I was certain I was going to barf all over that bus. So at the next stop I hopped off and sat down to breathe for a few seconds. Luckily I was okay, so I ran over to Chatelet, on the 14, through St. Lazare, and onto the grossly crowded train just in time. After class Keisha and I took the bus all the way home, and I stopped off at the MICEFA "Thanksgiving" celebration. Which was one free cocktail and some potato chips. Oh well, the cocktail was good.
Thursday was another hellish day. I ended up going to bed late on Wednesday and then it was another 5:45 wake up call. Luckily, this time, a bus did come and I got a nice, easy ride to Chatelet in the early-morning, traffic-free streets. The train left at 7:07 and I was majorly early to work. The day was pretty normal, I taught Thanksgiving. Of course these poor kids just have blank and/or quizzical stares about the whole thing. But they grasped the concept of Pilgrims leaving England and setting up the first colony in America. I left out the religious problems, the long winter, and the part where they wiped out Squanto's tribe. We also made hand Turkeys, which were hilarious because these poor kids have no imagination. It took a good 15 minutes to make them realize it was a turkey, not just their hands. They were like "wait why do we put a beak on it? Should we draw finger nails?" And then of course they wanted to see mine so they could see exactly which colors to use and what pattern to put them in. I've never said, "whatever" and "no big deal" so much in my life as when I'm teaching these kids. No wonder they grow up to be grumpy, negative Parisians.
Anyway, after work I got to the train, got to Chatelet, but then there were no buses. Well it's a good 45 minutes from Chatelet to MICEFA, and I honestly tried, but as soon as I got to the Pantheon I made a left and hauled ass home. Sorry Professor. I was late already. When I got home the electrician was here fixing my hot water heater. Which wasn't broken so much as a switch had been flipped in the fuse box and it turned off. Um yeah I'm not a dumb blonde American or anything. But he's a cool guy who lives a block away and drives a scooter so it's not like he moved the Earth to get here.
The rest of the night I just talked on the phone to my mom and my brother and watched Ugly Betty. I downloaded the whole first season and it's pretty addictive. Yesterday was so weird because there are just no signs of Thanksgiving here, and no one understands. Hanukkah hopefully won't be as much as a problem, my mom will be around for the first few nights and we can go to Chez Hanna and eat falafel. I've kind of purged Christmas from my system since I haven't celebrated it in four years now. But yesterday morning at work when I was tired and hungry and stressed out, I was a little emotional about the fact that everyone got to go to my aunt's house and eat Matt's mom's bomb ass pumpkin pie last night. Even my cousin Ian managed to make it, and he lives in China. Here's to next year I guess.
Friday, November 23, 2007
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
My life is on strike
Let's start at the beginning.
Yesterday I decided that, barring some sort of nuclear attack, I was going to make it to work. I set my alarm for 5:45, spent 0% of my time lollygagging, and managed to be out the door with coffee, lunch, and snack by 6:20 am. I went down to the bus stop and spent about 5 minutes praying before I realized that I might end up sitting there for half an hour and then totally missing my train and wasting all of this effort. So I decided to man up and walking to Chatelet, which is of course a good half an hour on foot. It was pitch black outside and it was cold, and I was totally disoriented. It looked a lot like that time Matt and I walked home from a club in St. Germain des Près at 5 am, and we saw people walking to work. Well now I was one of those crazy people walking to work before sunrise. So anyway, I made it in pretty good time, and the blessed line 14 pulled up just as I got to the platform. I arrived at the St. Lazare platform and waited only a couple minutes before a train arrived. My train was posted to leave at 7:24, but I was sitting down and leaving the station at 7:12. So maybe the train was really early, maybe really late. Whatever. Je me suis débrouillée!
The rest of the day was pretty standard, and easy because I was teaching about America and anglophones so I just did the same lesson 6 times. After work I trekked to the Marly train station, but I had missed the 4:42 so I had to wait until 5:11. I snoozed a little on the train until we got to La Défense and all of humanity bombarded the train. It was dark when we got to St. Lazare. It really freaks me out that when I leave for work and come back in the evening, the sky looks pretty much the same. Line 14 was a breeze as usual, but then came the issue. I did NOT want to walk. I was exhausted and starving. So I went to the bus stop and waited. I waited half an hour. I'm pretty sure I waited so long because my hunger and fatigue put me into some sort of hypoglycemic shock and I was partially passed out. But I was pretty sure no bus was coming, so I walked. I walked from Hôtel de Ville, across the river, through Notre Dame, across the river again, down St. Germain des Prés, up Mont St. Geneviève. It's very romantic and tragic to be walking in Paris with all of these amazing architectural feats around and just hating it because the city is kicking your ass. I felt like Carrie in "Anchors Away" when she realizes that she and New York don't have the perfect relationship. I was hanging on by a thread when I got home. I ate some hot tomato soup and watched some Ugly Betty and felt normal again.
Next debacle. Hot water heater is on strike, too. Last night the water was pretty lukewarm and it hasn't improved since. I used my boulloire to make hot water to wash my face this morning. This might mean that I have to shower at the gym until this is fixed. I think those showers might be communal. Gah. And I'd have to bring toiletries and flip flops and a towel and change of clothes. I miss PAC. I miss marble stalls and warm towels and guava lotion. Grrr.
Also, pretty much all of France is on strike right now. In addition to the Metro and the students, the fonctionnaires went on strike today. Since everything in France is state-run, pretty much everyone works for the government. Teachers, sanitation workers, the people working on my carte de séjour at the préfecture. Basically we're all screwed. Even if I wanted to go class, and I managed to get there by train or something, and the buildings weren't blocked by protesting students, my professor probably wouldn't even be there. This country is bonkers, man.
Yesterday I decided that, barring some sort of nuclear attack, I was going to make it to work. I set my alarm for 5:45, spent 0% of my time lollygagging, and managed to be out the door with coffee, lunch, and snack by 6:20 am. I went down to the bus stop and spent about 5 minutes praying before I realized that I might end up sitting there for half an hour and then totally missing my train and wasting all of this effort. So I decided to man up and walking to Chatelet, which is of course a good half an hour on foot. It was pitch black outside and it was cold, and I was totally disoriented. It looked a lot like that time Matt and I walked home from a club in St. Germain des Près at 5 am, and we saw people walking to work. Well now I was one of those crazy people walking to work before sunrise. So anyway, I made it in pretty good time, and the blessed line 14 pulled up just as I got to the platform. I arrived at the St. Lazare platform and waited only a couple minutes before a train arrived. My train was posted to leave at 7:24, but I was sitting down and leaving the station at 7:12. So maybe the train was really early, maybe really late. Whatever. Je me suis débrouillée!
The rest of the day was pretty standard, and easy because I was teaching about America and anglophones so I just did the same lesson 6 times. After work I trekked to the Marly train station, but I had missed the 4:42 so I had to wait until 5:11. I snoozed a little on the train until we got to La Défense and all of humanity bombarded the train. It was dark when we got to St. Lazare. It really freaks me out that when I leave for work and come back in the evening, the sky looks pretty much the same. Line 14 was a breeze as usual, but then came the issue. I did NOT want to walk. I was exhausted and starving. So I went to the bus stop and waited. I waited half an hour. I'm pretty sure I waited so long because my hunger and fatigue put me into some sort of hypoglycemic shock and I was partially passed out. But I was pretty sure no bus was coming, so I walked. I walked from Hôtel de Ville, across the river, through Notre Dame, across the river again, down St. Germain des Prés, up Mont St. Geneviève. It's very romantic and tragic to be walking in Paris with all of these amazing architectural feats around and just hating it because the city is kicking your ass. I felt like Carrie in "Anchors Away" when she realizes that she and New York don't have the perfect relationship. I was hanging on by a thread when I got home. I ate some hot tomato soup and watched some Ugly Betty and felt normal again.
Next debacle. Hot water heater is on strike, too. Last night the water was pretty lukewarm and it hasn't improved since. I used my boulloire to make hot water to wash my face this morning. This might mean that I have to shower at the gym until this is fixed. I think those showers might be communal. Gah. And I'd have to bring toiletries and flip flops and a towel and change of clothes. I miss PAC. I miss marble stalls and warm towels and guava lotion. Grrr.
Also, pretty much all of France is on strike right now. In addition to the Metro and the students, the fonctionnaires went on strike today. Since everything in France is state-run, pretty much everyone works for the government. Teachers, sanitation workers, the people working on my carte de séjour at the préfecture. Basically we're all screwed. Even if I wanted to go class, and I managed to get there by train or something, and the buildings weren't blocked by protesting students, my professor probably wouldn't even be there. This country is bonkers, man.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Operation Overlord
Friday turned out to be sort of successful. After a good 20 minutes shivering at the bus stop, a bus did show up and I managed to get to Place d'Italie. I did a little shopping at the cheapo Wet Seal/Forever 21-ish stores. Unfortunately until I get paid I can't do a ton of shopping. But I got a few long sleeved shirts, which I can add to the two pairs of shoes I ordered that my mom is going to bring me in a couple weeks. I'm getting used to wearing my boots and flats but I miss the days of Uggs and flip flops. Actually there is a new pair of Uggs out that I am so in love with I think I'm going to buy them and figure out a way to get them here. Too bad I just found them or I would've had time for Mumsy to bring them. Anyway. I got some cat food at Bricorama, went to the gym (FINALLY. It was glorious) and then stood out in the even more freezing cold to catch the bus back home afterward. It reminded me of the days of Muni buses, standing in the cold waiting and then the excruciating crawl through traffic.
Yesterday, a Saturday morning, I dragged my ass out of bed at 7 am and walked in the dark and freezing cold to MICEFA. For my Franco-American relations class, we had to take this mandatory trip to Normandy to do some WWII learnage. Luckily MICEFA is all about the charter buses so it was a comfortable 4 hour drive. Except for the part where I thought I was showing some self control by not buying anything at the gas station mini-mart on the way there, because we were promised a crepe stand at the beach. Well, crepe stand was closed. That started a long road of starvation that lasted until I finally had something more than my morning coffee and a few Pringles, at 7 pm on the way home.
Anyway, the trip itself was really cool. I went to Hilton Head in South Carolina when I was really little but I don't remember it, so technically it was the first time I'd ever seen the Atlantic Ocean. It still strikes me as odd when I see beaches in cold climates. At home the beach is fun and inviting, in San Francisco it's just grey and scary, and in Normandy it was cold and really calm. It's the ocean but it was also the English channel so that explains the lack of breakers I guess. Plus the sea gulls were just floating near the shore like ducks! I couldn't believe it. Luckily it was a perfectly clear day so we just kind of walked around and looked at stuff and took it all in. Oh and Morgan waded into the water to get sea shells for everyone like a savage.
Then we got back in the bus to go to the American cemetery, which was pretty disorienting I have to say. Well first we had to go through security which was funny cuz I had a coffee thermos in my bag that pretty much resembled a torpedo. And we got inside and there's Dubya's framed publicity photo (why he hasn't gotten a new one in 7 years, I'll never understand) looking like the goofy asshole he is. Our chaperone didn't much like my reaction. Sidenote: she was a bitch, basically. Just way out of touch or something, I dunno. At least Barbara treats us like humans. Anyway, bitchy chaperone told me that when you're overseas you shouldn't talk shit about your president or something. Is she kidding? If I'm supposed to be representing Americans then I should let people know that not all Americans are Bible-thumping cowboys. Honestly just because I may have shown a chink in that United We Stand bullshit doesn't mean the the rest of the world is going to suddenly realize that America isn't invincible -- trust me, you twit, they know. ANYWAY. The rest of the cemetery was really cool. Our tour guide was extra perky and excited, and there were some cool displays with maps of all the fighting. Of course in the actual cemetery portion I had to find all the Jewish people. Luckily they got Stars of David instead of crosses, which everyone else got regardless of their religion. I know it's an old cemetery, but that still seems kind of silly. I mean they are bunches of military cemeteries in California and they all just plain white, pillar-like headstones. Anyway, yeah. And someone asked what the stars were for.
Okay maybe this is a bit of a rant, and if you didn't grow up in an urban or yuppy-ish area then you probably don't know any Jewish people, but seriously. I didn't know any Muslim people for most of my childhood but I still managed to pick up a few things about Islam. There's a woman who works at one of the schools where I teach, and granted she seems a little stunted emotionally and not totally aware of social propriety (in that she sometimes stares at me like I'm a zoo creature), but when I told her I wouldn't be missing Christmas with my family because I'm Jewish, it was just a blank stare. I understand if you don't understand what Kosher is or why some people wear kippahs, but there are people who think Jews celebrate Christmas? Actually I shouldn't be surprised -- Chelsea didn't know that Jews didn't believe in Jesus until I told her about a year ago.
Okay I'm getting off track again. The rest of the museum was nice, with lots of displays and a short movie to watch. Again, it was all very American with our super American tour guide and I felt more like I was visiting Pearl Harbor, but with less Japanese people. Oh and toward the end some members of the Royal Marines showed up and the girls (and of course many of the guys) in our group were pleased. I'd never seen a jarhead with a British accent, it was cool. I find myself straining to here British people speak all the time. Is that creepy? Sometimes I wish I had a fun accent.
So after the cemetery it was back on the bus and back toward civilization. Except this time in addition to the idiots behind me singing along to Jessica Simpson on an iPod, there was this crazy woman to the right of me. I knew there would be trouble when she threw into an earlier conversation that she was the youngest of 6 children. Immediately I was like, oh dear, she has a desperate and pathological need for attention and validation. And did she. I'm quite certain that more than half of the stories she told Morgan (I was just eavesdropping) were complete bullshit. I could almost see her thought process as a subject was brought up and she came up with some outlandish story or statement to make herself seem amazing. Plus she was just hypersexual about everything which sadly makes me think she was abused or something as a kid. Who knows, I shouldn't psychoanalyze people. Anyway, I wish I had brought my iPod cuz honestly after a while listening to her speak made me nauseated. Plus I was hypoglycemic from not having eaten anything that day. And I couldn't doze off because she'd start talking about vaginas or excrement some more and my stomach would turn. Finally her husband called her and she stopped talking (oh yeah, husband. She also announced to our part of the bus that we should get married ASAP before our tits start to sag. As if that fucking ring is going to keep her husband from cheating on/leaving her disgusting ass in five years. Oh and then there was the part about her next life phase "making the babies." I wish people could figure out something more to do than populate the Earth with their unevolved offspring).
Anyway, despite some of the irritations of the day, it wasn't bad for a field trip.
This morning I woke up, and it is fuckin' frio in the world. I turned on my heater for about 20 minutes to warm the place up a bit. I hate heaters for some reason. When I was little we never used it, that's probably why. My mom would just tell me to put on some socks and a sweatshirt when it got cold in the house. Sometimes the heater would turn on for a bit in the middle of the night, but only when it got to like 45 degrees in the house. I dunno. It makes me feel like I'm wasting energy, like when people leave the lights on in empty rooms or throw away their plastic bottles. I feel bad because I don't pay my electricity bill so if I overuse my landlady has to deal with it. So I've been keeping everything except the phone unplugged unless I'm using it. Sadly, it is getting really cold and I may have to keep the heat on at least while I'm at home. At night it's actually not really necessary cuz between the covers and the cat I'm super warm. According to my weather widget it's 32 degrees outside. Fack.
Yesterday, a Saturday morning, I dragged my ass out of bed at 7 am and walked in the dark and freezing cold to MICEFA. For my Franco-American relations class, we had to take this mandatory trip to Normandy to do some WWII learnage. Luckily MICEFA is all about the charter buses so it was a comfortable 4 hour drive. Except for the part where I thought I was showing some self control by not buying anything at the gas station mini-mart on the way there, because we were promised a crepe stand at the beach. Well, crepe stand was closed. That started a long road of starvation that lasted until I finally had something more than my morning coffee and a few Pringles, at 7 pm on the way home.
Anyway, the trip itself was really cool. I went to Hilton Head in South Carolina when I was really little but I don't remember it, so technically it was the first time I'd ever seen the Atlantic Ocean. It still strikes me as odd when I see beaches in cold climates. At home the beach is fun and inviting, in San Francisco it's just grey and scary, and in Normandy it was cold and really calm. It's the ocean but it was also the English channel so that explains the lack of breakers I guess. Plus the sea gulls were just floating near the shore like ducks! I couldn't believe it. Luckily it was a perfectly clear day so we just kind of walked around and looked at stuff and took it all in. Oh and Morgan waded into the water to get sea shells for everyone like a savage.
Then we got back in the bus to go to the American cemetery, which was pretty disorienting I have to say. Well first we had to go through security which was funny cuz I had a coffee thermos in my bag that pretty much resembled a torpedo. And we got inside and there's Dubya's framed publicity photo (why he hasn't gotten a new one in 7 years, I'll never understand) looking like the goofy asshole he is. Our chaperone didn't much like my reaction. Sidenote: she was a bitch, basically. Just way out of touch or something, I dunno. At least Barbara treats us like humans. Anyway, bitchy chaperone told me that when you're overseas you shouldn't talk shit about your president or something. Is she kidding? If I'm supposed to be representing Americans then I should let people know that not all Americans are Bible-thumping cowboys. Honestly just because I may have shown a chink in that United We Stand bullshit doesn't mean the the rest of the world is going to suddenly realize that America isn't invincible -- trust me, you twit, they know. ANYWAY. The rest of the cemetery was really cool. Our tour guide was extra perky and excited, and there were some cool displays with maps of all the fighting. Of course in the actual cemetery portion I had to find all the Jewish people. Luckily they got Stars of David instead of crosses, which everyone else got regardless of their religion. I know it's an old cemetery, but that still seems kind of silly. I mean they are bunches of military cemeteries in California and they all just plain white, pillar-like headstones. Anyway, yeah. And someone asked what the stars were for.
Okay maybe this is a bit of a rant, and if you didn't grow up in an urban or yuppy-ish area then you probably don't know any Jewish people, but seriously. I didn't know any Muslim people for most of my childhood but I still managed to pick up a few things about Islam. There's a woman who works at one of the schools where I teach, and granted she seems a little stunted emotionally and not totally aware of social propriety (in that she sometimes stares at me like I'm a zoo creature), but when I told her I wouldn't be missing Christmas with my family because I'm Jewish, it was just a blank stare. I understand if you don't understand what Kosher is or why some people wear kippahs, but there are people who think Jews celebrate Christmas? Actually I shouldn't be surprised -- Chelsea didn't know that Jews didn't believe in Jesus until I told her about a year ago.
Okay I'm getting off track again. The rest of the museum was nice, with lots of displays and a short movie to watch. Again, it was all very American with our super American tour guide and I felt more like I was visiting Pearl Harbor, but with less Japanese people. Oh and toward the end some members of the Royal Marines showed up and the girls (and of course many of the guys) in our group were pleased. I'd never seen a jarhead with a British accent, it was cool. I find myself straining to here British people speak all the time. Is that creepy? Sometimes I wish I had a fun accent.
So after the cemetery it was back on the bus and back toward civilization. Except this time in addition to the idiots behind me singing along to Jessica Simpson on an iPod, there was this crazy woman to the right of me. I knew there would be trouble when she threw into an earlier conversation that she was the youngest of 6 children. Immediately I was like, oh dear, she has a desperate and pathological need for attention and validation. And did she. I'm quite certain that more than half of the stories she told Morgan (I was just eavesdropping) were complete bullshit. I could almost see her thought process as a subject was brought up and she came up with some outlandish story or statement to make herself seem amazing. Plus she was just hypersexual about everything which sadly makes me think she was abused or something as a kid. Who knows, I shouldn't psychoanalyze people. Anyway, I wish I had brought my iPod cuz honestly after a while listening to her speak made me nauseated. Plus I was hypoglycemic from not having eaten anything that day. And I couldn't doze off because she'd start talking about vaginas or excrement some more and my stomach would turn. Finally her husband called her and she stopped talking (oh yeah, husband. She also announced to our part of the bus that we should get married ASAP before our tits start to sag. As if that fucking ring is going to keep her husband from cheating on/leaving her disgusting ass in five years. Oh and then there was the part about her next life phase "making the babies." I wish people could figure out something more to do than populate the Earth with their unevolved offspring).
Anyway, despite some of the irritations of the day, it wasn't bad for a field trip.
This morning I woke up, and it is fuckin' frio in the world. I turned on my heater for about 20 minutes to warm the place up a bit. I hate heaters for some reason. When I was little we never used it, that's probably why. My mom would just tell me to put on some socks and a sweatshirt when it got cold in the house. Sometimes the heater would turn on for a bit in the middle of the night, but only when it got to like 45 degrees in the house. I dunno. It makes me feel like I'm wasting energy, like when people leave the lights on in empty rooms or throw away their plastic bottles. I feel bad because I don't pay my electricity bill so if I overuse my landlady has to deal with it. So I've been keeping everything except the phone unplugged unless I'm using it. Sadly, it is getting really cold and I may have to keep the heat on at least while I'm at home. At night it's actually not really necessary cuz between the covers and the cat I'm super warm. According to my weather widget it's 32 degrees outside. Fack.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Crunch crunch crunch
I have to preface this entry with the fact that my cat just captured and ate two flies in the span of about ten minutes. The crunchy sound of their deaths will haunt me for life.
Anywhoozle. Yesterday I wanted to get proactive about the strike and work around it. Unfortunately, line 7 turned from 1 train every 45 minutes to quasi-nul while I was waiting. So I tried the bus, but it didn't come. I walked down to the nearest Velib' station to test my bravery. Broken ticket machine. So I walked down to Censier and tried that one. Unfortunately, I haven't received my October paycheck so my French bank account doesn't quite have the 150 euro deposit for the Velib'. I thought about walking to the gym, which is feasible, but by then I would've been running late after walking there, working out, and walking back. So instead I wasted some time at Monoprix looking for tights. And sadly they had some that I really liked but only in bigger sizes.
At 6 my Franco-American relations class attempted to happen at MICEFA. I bundled up like never before in my life and walked. Class was held in the tiny upstairs office and was just comical. A bunch of chairs jammed into a teeny room with the professor right in our faces, writing on a pathetic little white board. But whatever, we worked through it I guess. Bless his heart, that man needs a shower or some deodorant or something. Luckily it was so stuffy in there that it didn't seem strange when we kept opening the window for air. Class was semi-interesting, although it gets kind of funny because Americans know nothing about history. So he's asking us about WWI and we're like, "durhhhh." I managed to pull Franz Ferdinand's assassination out of my ass from 10th grade world history. Thanks Mr. Lockhart. The professor is always very careful to make sure we don't get too full of ourselves after he concedes that America saved France's ass twice. He's like, "well the war would have ended differently if American hadn't shown up, but they were very late and France did most of the fighting." I'm just sitting there like chill out, we are college students studying in France and attempting to master the French language -- we don't think America the world's savior.
Another fun fact. The French government subsidizes French cinema and television. True story. They take the proceeds from American movie ticket sales and allocate a part to French production companies using French crews and actors. Same with ad revenue from American TV shows. The thought of that is kind of creepy. I know the French are all about preserving their culture, but the government here just knows no bounds. Maybe they'd be able to get social security out of debt if they weren't giving money to make French movies and TV shows that no one watches because they still suck, no matter how much funding they get (okay not all of them, but most French people prefer American TV shows, and French movies never get as much box office as American ones).
After class everyone was trying to figure out their ways home -- some people had walked 2 hours to get to class. Crazy people. Nicolas (the professor) offered to drive some people to the right bank to catch some working metros over there. Luckily I live a 20 minute walk from MICEFA, so Melissa, Taylor, Susie and I just hoofed it up St. Michel.
I'm going to make another valiant effort to work out, and maybe shop a little. Tomorrow we're going to the Normandy Beaches and it might be muddy. I don't have shoes for mud. I left my rubber rain boots at home! Fack.
Anywhoozle. Yesterday I wanted to get proactive about the strike and work around it. Unfortunately, line 7 turned from 1 train every 45 minutes to quasi-nul while I was waiting. So I tried the bus, but it didn't come. I walked down to the nearest Velib' station to test my bravery. Broken ticket machine. So I walked down to Censier and tried that one. Unfortunately, I haven't received my October paycheck so my French bank account doesn't quite have the 150 euro deposit for the Velib'. I thought about walking to the gym, which is feasible, but by then I would've been running late after walking there, working out, and walking back. So instead I wasted some time at Monoprix looking for tights. And sadly they had some that I really liked but only in bigger sizes.
At 6 my Franco-American relations class attempted to happen at MICEFA. I bundled up like never before in my life and walked. Class was held in the tiny upstairs office and was just comical. A bunch of chairs jammed into a teeny room with the professor right in our faces, writing on a pathetic little white board. But whatever, we worked through it I guess. Bless his heart, that man needs a shower or some deodorant or something. Luckily it was so stuffy in there that it didn't seem strange when we kept opening the window for air. Class was semi-interesting, although it gets kind of funny because Americans know nothing about history. So he's asking us about WWI and we're like, "durhhhh." I managed to pull Franz Ferdinand's assassination out of my ass from 10th grade world history. Thanks Mr. Lockhart. The professor is always very careful to make sure we don't get too full of ourselves after he concedes that America saved France's ass twice. He's like, "well the war would have ended differently if American hadn't shown up, but they were very late and France did most of the fighting." I'm just sitting there like chill out, we are college students studying in France and attempting to master the French language -- we don't think America the world's savior.
Another fun fact. The French government subsidizes French cinema and television. True story. They take the proceeds from American movie ticket sales and allocate a part to French production companies using French crews and actors. Same with ad revenue from American TV shows. The thought of that is kind of creepy. I know the French are all about preserving their culture, but the government here just knows no bounds. Maybe they'd be able to get social security out of debt if they weren't giving money to make French movies and TV shows that no one watches because they still suck, no matter how much funding they get (okay not all of them, but most French people prefer American TV shows, and French movies never get as much box office as American ones).
After class everyone was trying to figure out their ways home -- some people had walked 2 hours to get to class. Crazy people. Nicolas (the professor) offered to drive some people to the right bank to catch some working metros over there. Luckily I live a 20 minute walk from MICEFA, so Melissa, Taylor, Susie and I just hoofed it up St. Michel.
I'm going to make another valiant effort to work out, and maybe shop a little. Tomorrow we're going to the Normandy Beaches and it might be muddy. I don't have shoes for mud. I left my rubber rain boots at home! Fack.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Frizzle my nizzle
Okay kids, it is starting to get cold. And I'm not talking "haha, it's 45 degrees at night" cold. I'm talking, it is 10:26 am at 37 degrees outside. Luckily it is a perfectly clear day. I think I can handle the cold as long as it's not raining. I can wear cute boots and coats and scarves but being wet and sludgy is crossing the line.
Yesterday, in the face of a strike at school and a strike on the metro, my History of Paris class s'est débrouillé (note: se débrouiller is a common French expression that literally means to de-fog yourself, but basically means to figure it out, work it out, or if you're my reporting teacher, POWER IT. I will use it often as it's a common theme in my life right now) and had a quasi-class anyway. We met in front of Paris 3, did a little walking through the Jardin des Plantes, but the intense cold got to be too much. I mean honestly when the wind blows, I think I might shrivel up and die. My new goal is to never spend that much time outdoors again for the next 4 or 5 months. Anyway, we couldn't take the cold anymore so we found a cafe and had class there, inside, with coffee. Niiiiice. Actually my teacher gave up on lecturing because she had plenty to say about the strikes. And blah blah we talked about some French politics and crap. The professor looks like an animated Disney character (one day I'll pinpoint whom exactly), but she's actually pretty cool.
I didn't really realize how long it's been since I last wrote. Well last Friday my Ikea dresser finally arrived. Bright and early, at 8:30 am, my buzzer startled me awake and I rushed to put on a sweatshirt and cover my head because the delivery man did not need to see me like that. After he dropped it off I tried to go back to bed, but then realized that I'd gone to sleep at 10:30 the night before and despite being rudely awakened, I had gotten plenty of sleep. So in the wee hours (haha), I made some coffee and watched Chocolat while I put together the dresser. I got as far as I could without only a flathead screwdriver, then took a break to go to MICEFA and the hardware store. I finally finished the dresser that night.
On Sunday I managed to get myself up pretty early and I hit up the farmer's markets. I ended up only getting lemons cuz the salmon I wanted was too expensive. Instead I went to good old Picard and bought some different extravagant salmon but ya know, that's life. I also gave in and bought a coffee thermos. I've been looking for just a tumbler so I can save some time in the morning before work but I don't think they really exist in France. So I bought a well-priced thermos and a good tupperware thingy to bring my lunch in.
Monday went off almost without a hitch. Finally a day when almost everything worked. I emphasize the word almost. The morning was like a well-coordinated relay race. Get up, get dressed, make coffee, pack lunch, pack bag, out the door, line 7, line 14, and BOOM -- at St. Lazare with five minutes to spare. I drank my coffee on the train, it arrived in Marly on time, voila. Of course once I got to work I realized that my period had started and then later one of the worksheets I made for class that day wouldn't print. But I was semi-prepared for the first issue and ended up improvising on the second, which turned out better than my original plan. During my lunch break I went to Champion to buy "supplies" and ended up getting some other fun things, like socks and Disney princess tissues. I don't even really use tissues but I suppose they could come in handy. Oh and of course one of my students came strolling by with her mother while I was picking out tampons.
Oh here's a little side note about Champion. This one in Marly is heaven. Almost Target-like in its divinity. First of all, it's totally Americanized, down to the in-house butcher and bakery, and a little club card for your keychain. Unfortunately they're still not open on Sundays. Anyway, you know how the Ralph's bakery has little packaged cookies and donuts in stuff? In France, the pre-packaged baked goods include religieuses and macarons. Fucking incredible. They're probably not that good but hey, how novel. Also, when I was looking at band-aids and other things to fix sore feet, I realized the condoms and lube were right there next to them. Another novelty. Not hidden next to the Vagisil, or in locked in a case like the fascist Walgreens on West Portal (that place just pisses me off). Also Champion has colored toilet paper with scents like lilac, jasmine, clementine. That's a little excessive, I think.
The rest of this week has kind of been marred by French unrest. Everything is on strike. It might have been feasible for me to get to work today as two of my three required modes of transport are supposed to be working, and I was just going to take a bus to replace my first metro ride (but even the buses are only running at 30%). When the alarm went off at 6 I just said "fuck it" cuz they're not expecting me anyway. And this way I know I'll be on time for my class this evening, which is being held at MICEFA because the Sorbonne is still trippin'. So today I'll finish up my homework, attempt to go to the gym, and go to class finally. Hopefully I can catch a metro or bus to the gym. I thought about using the Velib' yesterday but quite frankly I'm terrified of riding a bike in Paris. Apparently it's not acceptable to drive on the sidewalk like back in the CV. Uh oh.
Other small spot of news its that mumsy called the other day and announced that she'd like to take a day trip while she's visiting (she comes two weeks from tomorrow) and she had settled on Bruges. So I'm going to skip school for two days and we'll take the train to Belgium right after I get my carte de sejour on the 4th. Life is pretty good.
Yesterday, in the face of a strike at school and a strike on the metro, my History of Paris class s'est débrouillé (note: se débrouiller is a common French expression that literally means to de-fog yourself, but basically means to figure it out, work it out, or if you're my reporting teacher, POWER IT. I will use it often as it's a common theme in my life right now) and had a quasi-class anyway. We met in front of Paris 3, did a little walking through the Jardin des Plantes, but the intense cold got to be too much. I mean honestly when the wind blows, I think I might shrivel up and die. My new goal is to never spend that much time outdoors again for the next 4 or 5 months. Anyway, we couldn't take the cold anymore so we found a cafe and had class there, inside, with coffee. Niiiiice. Actually my teacher gave up on lecturing because she had plenty to say about the strikes. And blah blah we talked about some French politics and crap. The professor looks like an animated Disney character (one day I'll pinpoint whom exactly), but she's actually pretty cool.
I didn't really realize how long it's been since I last wrote. Well last Friday my Ikea dresser finally arrived. Bright and early, at 8:30 am, my buzzer startled me awake and I rushed to put on a sweatshirt and cover my head because the delivery man did not need to see me like that. After he dropped it off I tried to go back to bed, but then realized that I'd gone to sleep at 10:30 the night before and despite being rudely awakened, I had gotten plenty of sleep. So in the wee hours (haha), I made some coffee and watched Chocolat while I put together the dresser. I got as far as I could without only a flathead screwdriver, then took a break to go to MICEFA and the hardware store. I finally finished the dresser that night.
On Sunday I managed to get myself up pretty early and I hit up the farmer's markets. I ended up only getting lemons cuz the salmon I wanted was too expensive. Instead I went to good old Picard and bought some different extravagant salmon but ya know, that's life. I also gave in and bought a coffee thermos. I've been looking for just a tumbler so I can save some time in the morning before work but I don't think they really exist in France. So I bought a well-priced thermos and a good tupperware thingy to bring my lunch in.
Monday went off almost without a hitch. Finally a day when almost everything worked. I emphasize the word almost. The morning was like a well-coordinated relay race. Get up, get dressed, make coffee, pack lunch, pack bag, out the door, line 7, line 14, and BOOM -- at St. Lazare with five minutes to spare. I drank my coffee on the train, it arrived in Marly on time, voila. Of course once I got to work I realized that my period had started and then later one of the worksheets I made for class that day wouldn't print. But I was semi-prepared for the first issue and ended up improvising on the second, which turned out better than my original plan. During my lunch break I went to Champion to buy "supplies" and ended up getting some other fun things, like socks and Disney princess tissues. I don't even really use tissues but I suppose they could come in handy. Oh and of course one of my students came strolling by with her mother while I was picking out tampons.
Oh here's a little side note about Champion. This one in Marly is heaven. Almost Target-like in its divinity. First of all, it's totally Americanized, down to the in-house butcher and bakery, and a little club card for your keychain. Unfortunately they're still not open on Sundays. Anyway, you know how the Ralph's bakery has little packaged cookies and donuts in stuff? In France, the pre-packaged baked goods include religieuses and macarons. Fucking incredible. They're probably not that good but hey, how novel. Also, when I was looking at band-aids and other things to fix sore feet, I realized the condoms and lube were right there next to them. Another novelty. Not hidden next to the Vagisil, or in locked in a case like the fascist Walgreens on West Portal (that place just pisses me off). Also Champion has colored toilet paper with scents like lilac, jasmine, clementine. That's a little excessive, I think.
The rest of this week has kind of been marred by French unrest. Everything is on strike. It might have been feasible for me to get to work today as two of my three required modes of transport are supposed to be working, and I was just going to take a bus to replace my first metro ride (but even the buses are only running at 30%). When the alarm went off at 6 I just said "fuck it" cuz they're not expecting me anyway. And this way I know I'll be on time for my class this evening, which is being held at MICEFA because the Sorbonne is still trippin'. So today I'll finish up my homework, attempt to go to the gym, and go to class finally. Hopefully I can catch a metro or bus to the gym. I thought about using the Velib' yesterday but quite frankly I'm terrified of riding a bike in Paris. Apparently it's not acceptable to drive on the sidewalk like back in the CV. Uh oh.
Other small spot of news its that mumsy called the other day and announced that she'd like to take a day trip while she's visiting (she comes two weeks from tomorrow) and she had settled on Bruges. So I'm going to skip school for two days and we'll take the train to Belgium right after I get my carte de sejour on the 4th. Life is pretty good.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
It's always something
This country, I swear. Shit just doesn't work. I now understand why the French are so grumpy and negative -- they are constantly being inconvenienced. Today I was late to work for the third time in the month I've been teaching. This morning, the crise du jour was a fire on the train tracks about 15 minutes from my stop. Lovely. So we had to get off the train, and then it was a crush of humanity to board the buses outside. Originally I was planning to patch together a couple bus rides to get to Marly, but the buses were being slow and quickly filling with lots of pushy people. So instead of crying, I called the office that is in charge of me to ask them to give me a route and to call my first school to tell them I couldn't make it. Silver lining: at least now I am sure that I can understand and speak great French under pressure. I ended up taking the train to La Défense, then taking the RER out to St. Germain en Laye, then taking a bus to Marly. Fucking ridonk. And of course I got there at 9:45. Too late to go to my first school (where I finish at 10), but a good hour before my next class. So I photocopied and made handouts, the best way to kill time at work. And of course I tried not to pass out because the commute had sucked all of my energy. Luckily I'm not feeling very sick anymore.
So after surviving the day well enough, I had an easy ride back to Paris and to the Sorbonne. When I got there, I saw a big protest outside. No big deal. The government is thinking about charging students to go to college. Obviously for me it's like "duh, college costs money," but it doesn't for the French as of yet. And plus they pay taxes out the ass so they shouldn't have to pay for school. Anyway, I thought it was just a fun little demonstration until I got closer to the entrance (to look for classmates and/or the professor) and saw what I think was a French SWAT team outside. Like most other authority figures in France (except for the national guardsmen with machine guns at the train station), their style of dress made them very hard to take seriously. First of all, they wear these helmets with plastic screens like welders or something (the firemen wear them too, so silly). Plus they were wearing these shin guards and chest plates that can only be compared to catcher's gear (baseball). And of course there are the enormous plastic shields (to protect themselves against rotten fruit?) that they used to form a wall to block us from going to class. Picture that epic masterpiece Troy, when Hector's army is guarding the gates and they make a big wall with their shields. Yeah, that's exactly what it looked like. I had to giggle a little. So, for all intents and purposes, I assume that was canceled today. Although I can't for the life of me figure out why, if some of the students are protesting, that the whole Sorbonne had to be closed for business. And guarded by policemen. Plus, the cops just stood there silent, looking more scared than anything. Another very French phenomenon. In France, the Man is afraid of YOU.
So after surviving the day well enough, I had an easy ride back to Paris and to the Sorbonne. When I got there, I saw a big protest outside. No big deal. The government is thinking about charging students to go to college. Obviously for me it's like "duh, college costs money," but it doesn't for the French as of yet. And plus they pay taxes out the ass so they shouldn't have to pay for school. Anyway, I thought it was just a fun little demonstration until I got closer to the entrance (to look for classmates and/or the professor) and saw what I think was a French SWAT team outside. Like most other authority figures in France (except for the national guardsmen with machine guns at the train station), their style of dress made them very hard to take seriously. First of all, they wear these helmets with plastic screens like welders or something (the firemen wear them too, so silly). Plus they were wearing these shin guards and chest plates that can only be compared to catcher's gear (baseball). And of course there are the enormous plastic shields (to protect themselves against rotten fruit?) that they used to form a wall to block us from going to class. Picture that epic masterpiece Troy, when Hector's army is guarding the gates and they make a big wall with their shields. Yeah, that's exactly what it looked like. I had to giggle a little. So, for all intents and purposes, I assume that was canceled today. Although I can't for the life of me figure out why, if some of the students are protesting, that the whole Sorbonne had to be closed for business. And guarded by policemen. Plus, the cops just stood there silent, looking more scared than anything. Another very French phenomenon. In France, the Man is afraid of YOU.
Monday, November 5, 2007
Brush with greatness
So today I was in Franprix on Mouffetard (the little one, for those who know), trying to get over to the ice cream freezer when my path was blocked by a cameraman, a dude with a boom mic, and some other dude in a suit. I assumed they were filming some sort of news piece. But then, as I went to check out, one of the check stands was loaded down with groceries (about 125 euros' worth, as I noted) so I moved to the next one. Then I realized that the woman at the check out was with the camera crew, and she was Mathilde Seigner. She's a French actress who was in a movie I saw in class last year (Harry, for the 306 alums), and these people were following her around for an interview or a documentary or something. It occurred to me that it might be a movie, but the guy talking to her had a clip mic on his shirt so I highly doubt it. Too bad I don't have TV cuz I'd like to see myself on French television haha. It was a bizarre experience because I don't really even know of any French celebrities, but I instantly recognized her (plus her face is all over the metro because she has a new movie coming out). Paris is a weird place because everything is here. In America, movie stars are in LA, models are in New York, politicians are in Washington, DC. But in France, they're all in Paris.
That brings me to something else -- Sarko walking out on 60 Minutes. I think the guy's a total toolbox, but I definitely felt bad for him. The dumb bitch should've just let it go. Most Americans don't get this, but in France, the personal life of a politician is totally irrelevant. The French don't just talk about their sex lives with strangers, even if they're public figures. I'm actually amazed that he just took the mic off instead of calling her a nosy bitch (or maybe a "putain salope américaine").
That brings me to something else -- Sarko walking out on 60 Minutes. I think the guy's a total toolbox, but I definitely felt bad for him. The dumb bitch should've just let it go. Most Americans don't get this, but in France, the personal life of a politician is totally irrelevant. The French don't just talk about their sex lives with strangers, even if they're public figures. I'm actually amazed that he just took the mic off instead of calling her a nosy bitch (or maybe a "putain salope américaine").
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Getting shit done
I hate that I become so paralyzed when I'm a little overwhelmed. I mean, I've had almost this entire past week to do tons of stuff and I've only gotten some of it done. They say, if you want to get something done, give it to a busy person. I'm much more productive when I'm frenzied, unfortunately. Otherwise I'm like one of those pathetic housewives from The Feminine Mystique with all day to get the housework done but who can't help but drag it out to fit the time available. I can't look out at an empty calendar of five days and figure out where I want to squeeze in the maybe three hours of work I have to do. Only this morning did I start to work on some assignments. I need the pressure of a time constraint. I'm sure I won't start practicing for my exposée on Wednesday until maybe Tuesday morning before class. I will never understand why it seems so much easier to freeze up and waste time than to get shit done and revel in the amazing feeling of having accomplished something. I feel great when I have clean laundry, a tidied apartment and all of my homework out of the way -- yet somehow I'm not addicted enough to continuously seek that high.
Tomorrow I am determined to get some lesson planning done. Aside from the thought of lesson planning, I'm almost excited to get back to 14-hour days and the triumphant feeling when I'm finally horizontal after a long day of trying to engage kids.
Tomorrow I am determined to get some lesson planning done. Aside from the thought of lesson planning, I'm almost excited to get back to 14-hour days and the triumphant feeling when I'm finally horizontal after a long day of trying to engage kids.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
All Saints, and not much else
I have to admit, I was a little afraid of what a real French bank holiday would be like. At home, such a thing doesn't really exist. It's no problem to hit up the grocery store or the movie theatres any day of the year, even Christmas. But here, I wasn't sure they'd caught on to the capitalist strategy that when everyone else isn't working, you should stay open to serve them and make more money. From what I can tell, nothing was really closed. Except the bank, naturally, which I needed.
So on Tuesday I got a little letter in the mail saying that my debit card was ready for pick up. Silly, silly French people. You can't just mail me my card? So anyway, I go in, and of course they tell me to come back next week cuz it's not there yet. Why the douche bags sent me the letter, then, I don't know. So meanwhile I need to pay my rent by online transfer, but I can't put money into my account without the damn card. So I ask the guy if there's a place to make a deposit without a card (because this branch doesn't have tellers -- WTF) and he tells me to go up to St. Michel to do it. By this time I was late for class so I'm going to do that today. Anyway, I wouldn't have been able to make the transfer for rent anyway because in order to add my landlord as a recipient, I have to get a confirmation code IN THE MAIL. After the first one they sends the codes by text message, but COME ON. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's people who makes things difficult just for the sake of being difficult.
So anyway. This holiday nonsense was all very poorly-timed because I couldn't get this important banking done yesterday. Although I'm hoping that 1. the code comes in the mail today, and 2. my landlord hasn't even bothered to check her account to make sure I sent her money. She's kind of getting on my nerves. We signed the lease at a dollar amount back in January (the equivalent of 750 euros back then) to guard against currency fluctuations. Good thing, too, cuz the dollar is in the shitter. Anyway, after I moved in she mentioned that it would be better for me to deposit euros into her account here so she could pay the bills with them. So meanwhile I set up this bank account and took almost all of my money out of my American account to put it in my French one. But now she doesn't like that the euro amount of the rent will be different every month so she wants me to send her checks for dollars in the States. Well god dammit, I'm very low on dollars and I don't even know how I would transfer money from my French account to the American one. I wonder if I can make online transfers to her American account. Gah.
So there's that as well. Today I'm also going to attempt to pick up Matt and I's bus tickets to Amsterdam. Of course, there was some sort of ridiculous service charge to have them mailed to me, so I opted to pick them up near the Sorbonne. Except they want me to print out the confirmation email and bring it to them, along with ID and the credit card I paid with. Fuck them. Printing shit out is way too expensive. I'm going to go systéme "d" with my ID, credit card, and confirmation number and convince them that it's enough. Again, they just like to make things difficult, and then you're a worthwhile human if you fight them through it.
Another fun story. My dumb ass locked my stuff into a locker at the gym without putting my keys on my belly button ring (haha). Of course I realized right away, but I decided to do my workout first before I dealt with it. Afterward I had to search all of the posters around to find the words for "lock" (une serrure) and "locker" (un casier). Luckily the verbs for locking and closing are the same word. There is a poster in the locker room about how the club accepts no responsibility for stuff being stolen from lockers, and then another one saying that we shouldn't use combo locks. So I found the words and the nice girl brought out some giant pruning shears and cut my lock off. So now I need a new one. I tried to go to Bricorama at the mall to find a new one, but no dice. I did however find some very affordable cat food in big bags, so I won't have to buy Puck the little bags at the vet's office anymore. But now I want a combo lock more than ever. I used to have a sweet purple one but I left it at Fitness USA once.
I responded to a babysitting ad on Craig's list, out of compulsion, I think. It's just for occasional work, which is good. At first I wasn't going to babysit because my job pays so well, but now that I'm doing all of this traveling I figure the more extra cash the better. Except they live in Villejuif (a suburb) and I can't figure out if it's a good neighborhood or not. Whatever, I'll go meet them during the day and we'll see. I also feel kind of awkward giving references when I haven't talked to my references since I left. I don't even know why that would worry me.
So yeah. This break has been very relaxing but at the same time I know I have stuff to work on. I have like 6 written expression assignments, an exposée on Wednesday with Keisha, plus tons of lesson planning. My plan is to make a bunch of handouts online and then print them out at work in one shot when I get back. Luckily they understand what a flash drive is. This will save me lots of money at the rip-off printer's downstairs.
One more news tidbit. Oink and TV Links were both busted during the same week. Sad time for me. I need a new music downloading service, but I think I can find another place to watch streaming TV cuz TV Links was just a list of links from other services. Still, though, the man is fucking up my life.
So on Tuesday I got a little letter in the mail saying that my debit card was ready for pick up. Silly, silly French people. You can't just mail me my card? So anyway, I go in, and of course they tell me to come back next week cuz it's not there yet. Why the douche bags sent me the letter, then, I don't know. So meanwhile I need to pay my rent by online transfer, but I can't put money into my account without the damn card. So I ask the guy if there's a place to make a deposit without a card (because this branch doesn't have tellers -- WTF) and he tells me to go up to St. Michel to do it. By this time I was late for class so I'm going to do that today. Anyway, I wouldn't have been able to make the transfer for rent anyway because in order to add my landlord as a recipient, I have to get a confirmation code IN THE MAIL. After the first one they sends the codes by text message, but COME ON. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's people who makes things difficult just for the sake of being difficult.
So anyway. This holiday nonsense was all very poorly-timed because I couldn't get this important banking done yesterday. Although I'm hoping that 1. the code comes in the mail today, and 2. my landlord hasn't even bothered to check her account to make sure I sent her money. She's kind of getting on my nerves. We signed the lease at a dollar amount back in January (the equivalent of 750 euros back then) to guard against currency fluctuations. Good thing, too, cuz the dollar is in the shitter. Anyway, after I moved in she mentioned that it would be better for me to deposit euros into her account here so she could pay the bills with them. So meanwhile I set up this bank account and took almost all of my money out of my American account to put it in my French one. But now she doesn't like that the euro amount of the rent will be different every month so she wants me to send her checks for dollars in the States. Well god dammit, I'm very low on dollars and I don't even know how I would transfer money from my French account to the American one. I wonder if I can make online transfers to her American account. Gah.
So there's that as well. Today I'm also going to attempt to pick up Matt and I's bus tickets to Amsterdam. Of course, there was some sort of ridiculous service charge to have them mailed to me, so I opted to pick them up near the Sorbonne. Except they want me to print out the confirmation email and bring it to them, along with ID and the credit card I paid with. Fuck them. Printing shit out is way too expensive. I'm going to go systéme "d" with my ID, credit card, and confirmation number and convince them that it's enough. Again, they just like to make things difficult, and then you're a worthwhile human if you fight them through it.
Another fun story. My dumb ass locked my stuff into a locker at the gym without putting my keys on my belly button ring (haha). Of course I realized right away, but I decided to do my workout first before I dealt with it. Afterward I had to search all of the posters around to find the words for "lock" (une serrure) and "locker" (un casier). Luckily the verbs for locking and closing are the same word. There is a poster in the locker room about how the club accepts no responsibility for stuff being stolen from lockers, and then another one saying that we shouldn't use combo locks. So I found the words and the nice girl brought out some giant pruning shears and cut my lock off. So now I need a new one. I tried to go to Bricorama at the mall to find a new one, but no dice. I did however find some very affordable cat food in big bags, so I won't have to buy Puck the little bags at the vet's office anymore. But now I want a combo lock more than ever. I used to have a sweet purple one but I left it at Fitness USA once.
I responded to a babysitting ad on Craig's list, out of compulsion, I think. It's just for occasional work, which is good. At first I wasn't going to babysit because my job pays so well, but now that I'm doing all of this traveling I figure the more extra cash the better. Except they live in Villejuif (a suburb) and I can't figure out if it's a good neighborhood or not. Whatever, I'll go meet them during the day and we'll see. I also feel kind of awkward giving references when I haven't talked to my references since I left. I don't even know why that would worry me.
So yeah. This break has been very relaxing but at the same time I know I have stuff to work on. I have like 6 written expression assignments, an exposée on Wednesday with Keisha, plus tons of lesson planning. My plan is to make a bunch of handouts online and then print them out at work in one shot when I get back. Luckily they understand what a flash drive is. This will save me lots of money at the rip-off printer's downstairs.
One more news tidbit. Oink and TV Links were both busted during the same week. Sad time for me. I need a new music downloading service, but I think I can find another place to watch streaming TV cuz TV Links was just a list of links from other services. Still, though, the man is fucking up my life.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
