The Holiday Spirit

I have had a hard time getting in the holiday spirit this year. You'll have to take that with a grain of salt since mine is not exactly the most Christmas-y family you've ever seen. My mom is a Jehovah's Witness and they don't do the whole holiday thing and my dad was raised Catholic but hasn't been near a church of his own volition since he moved out of his parents' place. On top of the whole religion thing, the holiday season always seems to be fraught with tragedy for us. Death, divorce, disease and other disasters seem to wait until Christmas to show up as if to keep everyone's holiday cheer in check. "Don't be too happy, folks. We must not forget that life is hard and unfair!" But, as we do every year, we laugh to keep from crying, and somehow muddle through one more holiday season. National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation certainly helps. So does booze.

This year, I will be spending the entirety of Christmas Eve in transit. I leave my place at 5:00 tomorrow morning to get on the tram to the train station. Then it's a three and a half hour train ride to Paris, an hour long bus ride from the train station to the airport, about eight hours to Chicago, a six hour layover, and finally an hour and a half flight to Rochester. Barring any delays, I am supposed to get into Rochester at 12:15am, technically Christmas Day. It's a full 24 hours of traveling. And it's more traveling after that: four days at home, the weekend in Waynesboro to see Jason's family and then five days in Baltimore before I fly back out again on Saturday. Not a lot of "break" to this winter break...

And yet, with all of these obstacles, knowing the insanity that lies before me these next 13 days, excited doesn't even begin to explain how I'm feeling this evening. Yes, I'm going to be jet lagged and exhausted and overbooked and stressed out. Someone will get into a fight over something trivial, someone will do something completely inappropriate, someone will end up in the hospital (wouldn't be the first time) but none of that matters because I'll be home. And I'll get to spend some time in all of my homes with all of my families: my extended family, family in-law and friends because once you're in my heart, you're in forever and you're family, too.

My family, my families, as crazy and imperfect as they are, are all mine and I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world. I know everyone says that, but I honestly believe that some people would trade theirs in if they'd been through half the stuff we've been through together, especially at Christmas, but here we are. Somehow stronger every year, somehow still moving forward. And I am so thankful that I get to spend another Christmas with them.

Can't wait to see you all.

It's Best Not to Swallow

I guess I need to stop saying that nothing happens in Bordeaux on Sundays because the last three Sundays in a row I have had plenty to do.

This Sunday, there was a wine tasting event downtown and I got invited to go with Hongli, Hao Cheng and Xuen Xuen. Hunter was supposed to come, too, but he was mad at Hongli for some (probably insignificant) reason and decided to stay home. Whoa! Venturing out without my sidekick! It's like I know people here or something.

It's been awhile since I started drinking before noon on a Sunday, and knocking back 80€ bottles of red wine is a far cry from the OJ/Andre mimosas at Red Star. Maybe I should have had more for breakfast than cereal. I (don't) remember the last time I went to a wine tasting on an empty stomach... For a mere 15€, I had access to hundreds of types of wine for Bordeaux's best wineries. This could get real ugly real fast. Luckily, Hongli explained to me that we weren't supposed to actually drink the wine but instead spit it out into the little spittoons at each stand.

I have always been of the mindset that it's a bit rude not to swallow, but I guess I'd rather not be the drunk American, puking in the corner at this classy wine tasting event. We tasted probably 75 different wines from 30 or so wineries and even several different champagnes, all for about the price of a decent brunch back home. Not a bad deal! When you do the math, it's a good thing I didn't drink all the samples. Even at a generous underestimate of 1oz per pour, that's 75oz of wine. At 5oz per glass, that's 15 glasses I would have had. I'm hung over just thinking about it.

Here's what I learned about wine:

1. Most reds taste exactly the same to me and I much prefer white wines.
2. My palette is semi-sophisticated. I only liked the more expensive wine about 65% of the time. I don't care how expensive your fancy wine is, if it tastes like pennies, I'm not going to like it.
3. Sauternes are too sweet for me but I think my mom would love them.
4. Letting a wine sit for an extra year really does make a difference but it's not necessary or advisable for every single wine.
5. I don't know any of the words to describe my wine preferences but that's okay because all I care about is whether I like it or not.
6. Champagne is delicious. There's no way I was spitting any of it out. It was the end of the day and we were heading out anyway so it was okay that I got a little buzzed on champagne before we left.

Here's what I learned about life:

1. Being the only non-Chinese person in my group was tricky even with Hao Cheng and Hongli working hard to include me with French. Xuen Xuen doesn't speak much French at all and Hao Cheng's Chinese sommelier friend was more interested in talking about wine than talking to me. Oh well.
2. Doing anything with a group always takes some effort. As group size increases, the likelihood of doing things your way decreases. Everyone compromises. I would have gone for more variety, less focus. The guys, though, were definitely taking their time at each stand and hand-selecting the wineries they wanted to visit.
3. Although I had a good time, being a complete amateur when it comes to wine made me feel like I wasn't really getting as much out of it as pretty much everyone else there. When I talked to the friendly America woman at one stand, it really helped me understand what was going on a little better. Thanks, friendly lady!

Overall, a grand time! I am excited to do some chateaux tours when Jason gets here. There's certainly no shortage of them around here.

The list of wineries.

That's a lot of wine

The champagne room

No sex here

A Sense of Belonging

Anyone who says "I don't care about fitting in" is not being completely honest. I'm not trying to say that everyone is a conformist and individuality is dead; our differences make us interesting and unique. The fact of the matter, though, is that being too different would defy sociology, psychology and biology. As humans, we actually do want to be like everyone else to a certain extent. Even people who actively work to be different from the mainstream society are part of a group: they create their own subculture in which they bond over how different they are from the rest of the world while being exactly like one another. Where you fit is not important, as long as you fit somewhere.

At every major stage in my life, I have had specific structures in place to help me integrate into the existing culture: There was always an orientation or a welcome event or some sort of formal introduction to the group. As a new member, I was always warmly welcomed and inevitably, someone took my under their wing to show me the ropes. Or, in times when I arrived with a large group of people who were equally new, we started the group culture from scratch on our own. Working together to form this new group united us quickly and easily. I guess it helps that I am pretty outgoing and sociable, but I have never had to try very hard to make friends.

Until now.

There was no orientation for me at school. When I showed up, the class had already been together for several months and even though I was told I could start my classes at any time, I immediately got the impression that I was behind. I barely got out "I'm Nicole and I'm from America," before we were already on to the day's lesson. No get to know you activities, no "welcome to Bordeaux", no nothing.

Even though my residence put on a small "pot d'accueil," it was clear that I was the only foreign student in the whole place. I met a few nice people, including two people that both speak pretty decent English, but I haven't seen them since. I don't really see anyone ever around here, actually...

It certainly hasn't been easy trying to break into French culture (or Chinese culture, for that matter) but I think this past weekend was a big step in feeling like I actually belong here.

Saturday started with a trip back to the Capucins market. Hunter and I had some shopping to do for the dinner we were planning to make that evening. I thought it was just going to be the two of us but he rolled up with Louis and Hongli, too. The more the merrier! We even went over to the Asian market down the street to get some special items for the meal. Oh yes.

Capucins market is filled with little stands like this. 

After shopping, we walked by the Église St. Michel, on our way to a kebab place. We got sandwiches to go and took them over to the quai for a little picnic lunch. It had been so rainy and cold the last couple of days, so we planned to take full advantage of the beautiful weather. There are very few things that make me quite as happy as sunny days and hanging out with friends next to a body of water. We finished our lunch and took our time making it back to Hunter's place, stopping to play in the water of the miroir and wishing some newlyweds felicitations as they took pictures.

Église St. Michel (Not Ste. Catherine or St. Pierre as the guys thought. No one wins the bet!)

Bridge at the Porte de Bourgogne

Friends! Hunter, Hongli, and Louis

The Miroir

Hunter, Hongli and Louis all live on the top floor of this beautiful old building downtown. While I don't think I could ever go back to sharing a bathroom or kitchen with random people, it's still a pretty cool place. We had some time to kill before it was time to start making dinner so I taught Hunter and Hongli to play rummy while Louis went off to study. It took a minute for all the rules to sink in, but once they did, we had a quite a little game going. I love watching a new skill click with someone. Teaching is in my soul...

Around 5pm, it was time to start cooking. All I knew was that we were having kung pao chicken. I was not expecting the epic Asian feast Hunter was planning. We made spring rolls from scratch, seasoned eggplant and beef, some kind of carrot and potato dish, pork with bell peppers and mushrooms, and spicy tofu. I was wondering how four of us were supposed to eat all this food when Hunter informed me that we were having more guests: Hao Cheng from class and his girlfriend Xuen Xuen were coming and so was another French guy named Brian. (Yes, a French guy named Brian. Go figure.)

Noms!

I made those spring rolls!

No one's room was big enough for all of us we we dragged the tables into the hall and made ourselves a dining room. Brian brought some beers and Hao Cheng brought two bottles of wine to accompany the meal. After eating until we wanted to die (and still having tons of left overs) we sat around and played a couple funny French drinking games. We laughed and joked and we all spoke a ton of French. It was starting to get late and Hao Cheng was driving so we decided to take a little walk on the quai to get some air.

It's lovely in the daytime but seeing the quai for the first time at night was truly breathtaking. It was still fairly warm outside and the sky was clear. We watched the seagulls in the river below bobbing along happily in the current and flying back upstream for another ride. I showed off my astronomy skills by pointing out a few constellations and explaining how to tell the difference between stars and planets in the night sky. (When did I learn this stuff? I couldn't remember...) We ran and skipped and sang and took in the beautiful evening.

At 1:30am, had to bid my friends adieu and I hopped on the train to go home, smiling the whole ride back. I couldn't have drawn up a more perfect day for myself if I tried. Shopping at a farmer's market, having lunch by the river, playing cards, having a couple drinks and a great meal with people from around the globe... It doesn't get any more ideal, if you ask me. We may not be your typical group of friends that you would see hanging out around Bordeaux but somehow, it works. And I'm in it.

I fit.

Steaming Piles of S#!t

Today, a lesson in the importance of vocabulary.

At lunch on Saturday, Hunter invited his neighbor over to join us. His name is Louis and if you saw him on the street, you'd probably think he was a surfer from SoCal: Tall, slim, longish curly brown hair, held out of his face with a leather headband. Louis, a biology student at Bordeaux 3, is incredibly friendly and though his English isn't great, he is very eager to speak it with Hunter and I. Practice makes perfect, right?

After getting through all the small talk, I asked Louis if he had any suggestions for gifts that I should get for my friends and family back home.

Louis: "Yes yes! A good wine and maybe some foie gras? It is very good! We go? Tomorrow, there is a market. A man, with figs and foie gras. You want we all go together?"
Me: "Oh that would be awesome! I don't know much about wine or foie gras but I'll take your word for it. And I love markets. I will bring some money and we'll all go together."
Louis: "Yes. And maybe after, there is a thing. We should go! We go and get the shit!"

Is he still talking about going shopping? Yeah, I imagine we can get all kinds of shit at the market.

Me: "Sounds good. This will be a lot of fun. What time should I meet you guys?"
L: "Yes! We meet at 9 to go to the market and then we go and get the shit. We meet French people. We go in cars and then we go to the place with the horses and we get the shit and put it all around."

Okay, now I know I'm missing something. Horses? Cars? I know where the Capucins market we don't need a car to get there. Are we riding horses? I don't get it...

Me: "Cool, yeah, we'll get the shit. But what about these horses?"
L: "No no no... We go to the... equestrian center?"

So we are doing something with horses. I'm a little afraid of horses but I'll make it work. I was afraid of the ocean when we went surfing and look at me now. Surfing is great!

Me: "Yeah, equestrian center. Like with horses?"
L: "Yes! We get the shit in the cars. It smells like the forest. It does not smell very bad. And there is a yard. And we put it all around. Le fumier. Very cool! You bring good shoes, okay?"
Me: "Okay, yes. I'm excited!"

I definitely needed more information, and fumier seemed like a really important word to know in order to understand what the plan was exactly, but I was late for my rendez-vous with Ashley and Guillaume. Pretty much all I knew was that we were going shopping and maybe riding horses. All I cared about was getting out of the house on a Sunday, a welcome change of pace.

9:00am came very early, especially after my crazy late night on Saturday, and it was deathly cold outside. Since it had been rather pleasant the night before, it was also incredibly foggy. Not surprisingly, I was running a little late, but also not surprisingly, so were Hunter and Louis. I ended up waiting for them for a good 20 minutes before we made it down to the market.

The Capucins market is really neat and kind of reminded me of what Lexington Market could be if there were fewer junkies and homeless people hanging out there. We got a few snacks for later in the day and stopped by the man with the foie gras-stuffed figs. He gave us a sample and it was seriously one of the most delicious things I have ever tasted. Even knowing how foie gras is made couldn't ruin how tasty it was. I could have spent the day there but Louis said it was time to go. So we're done shopping? I'm just getting started!

We took the tram all the way down Bordeaux 3 in Pessac, a part of town that I hadn't seen yet. Even though it was already after 10, the fog still hadn't cleared and I could barely make out he academic buildings scattered around the campus. There was an eerie feeling to the whole place and I was beginning to wonder if maybe I was about to be murdered. "Unassuming American girl found dead at Bordeaux 3. Two students, one Chinese, one French, prime suspects in murder."

We walked up a hill and Louis pointed out a garden. Oh my God, this is where they're going to bury me. No one knows I'm here but them! Just as I was about to make a run for it, we were met by several other young French people and Lucas, who seemed to be running the show, gathered us in a small shed, and began to explain the day's activities. Pitchforks, shovels, rakes, rubber boots, gloves. I really am about to be killed. I can't even tell how to get out of here with all this damn fog. I am about to die. This is it.

Wait. Is that... Is that a trailer filled with a steaming pile of manure???

And suddenly, it dawned on me that Louis's explanation was incredibly accurate. We really were going to be getting shit and putting it all around. As biology students, him and his classmates have a small organic garden on campus and they needed to get it prepped for the winter. Part of this preparation was covering the seed beds with cardboard and spreading manure over them to protect the soil in the cold months ahead. We had to get in cars to go pick up the manure from the equestrian center (tons of free shit there) and then put it in the garden. Perhaps it was because of the cold or maybe because it was cut with so much straw, but the manure really didn't smell that bad. We also did some weeding and planted some wintery crops but the majority of the day was spent exactly as Louis had said.

We laughed and sang songs while we worked. The guys fought about what kind of pizza to order for lunch. I spoke a ton of French and even though I was dead tired by the end of the day, I felt really good. There's certainly something to be said for working with your hands and coming together as a team to accomplish a task. And when I think about it, Louis is totally the kind of guy who would think that spending the day shoveling horse dung is a good time, so I shouldn't have been surprised at all by this sort of invitation. Those earthy types are always trying to get you to come hang out in their gardens.

By the way, fumier means "manure."

Public Transit: Only Awesome When It Works

For those of you who know me, you know that I am always out and about on a Friday or Saturday night, so it was certainly an adjustment coming here and spending my weekends in the house. As enjoyable as it was at first, a girl can only paint her nails but so many Saturdays in a row before it starts getting a little depressing, so I was happy to have some adventures lined up this weekend.

Originally, Hunter and I had made plans to do lunch on Friday but we both had pretty late nights on Thursday so we pushed it to Saturday. Friday was a relaxing day or blogging, grocery shopping, and playing the new guitar Jason got me for Christmas/my birthday. Look at me go!

To make up for a relatively quiet Friday, I stuffed Saturday full of fun with friends: Lunch with Hunter at noon, watching rugby with Guillaume and Ashley at 2:30 followed by dinner at You's place around 5:00 and maybe going out afterward. This would entail a lot of traversing the city but with my TBC tram/bus pass, I can go anywhere! Transit here is really nice and will get you anywhere in the city/surrounding suburbs in a pretty reasonable amount of time. I planned out all my routes the night before and was really excited about a full day of getting out and around.

Hunter and I planned to meet at Auchan in the morning to get some food for our lunch. I had heard stories from all the other Chinese kids about Hunter's amazing cooking, so I was amped. At the last second, some obstacles came up and he decided to change it to dinner. I explained that I was going to You's for dinner and could only come for lunch. He was disappointed, (and so was I! I want some real Chinese food!!) but we still had some tasty sandwiches anyway. I told him I would try to make it over after dinner at You's place since we were supposed to be eating in the early evening.

Around 2:00, I had to head back over west to catch the rugby game. According to my calculations, this trip was supposed to take about 30 minutes. A couple stops on the tram and a short bus ride. NOPE. There was a manifestation downtown and all the trams and buses between Quinconces and Mériadeck were blocked. I love equal rights and whole-heartedly believe that gays should get married, too, but could you maybe just scoot your rally out of the street? Thanks. 25 minutes later, I was able to get on a tram toward Ashley's house. By the time I finally got over her way, though, I had missed the bus that would have saved me from walking the extra 15 minutes to her door. Unanticipated travel time: 40 minutes.

Watching rugby was great fun. Toulouse was playing a team called the Ospreys and I wore one of my Chesapeake T-shirts even though Guillaume was rooting for Toulouse, who later went on to win the match. After the game, Ashley and I were supposed to head over to You's house because her roommate (whose name I can neither spell nor pronounce and who was referred to by You simply as "The Boy") was making dinner for us. She had told him about my love of spicy food and he was very excited to cook for me, apparently. Awesome. We headed out around 5:00 and and Ashley needed to stop at the tabac on the way to the bus stop for cigarette supplies and Coca-Cola. Even though we had checked the sign and it wasn't supposed to be there for another 15 minutes, the 35 bus rolled right by us just as we left the tabac. This is Karma punishing you for smoking, Ashley.We ened up waiting for a solid 45 minutes for the next bus and didn't get to You's place until after 6:00. Unanticipated travel time: 1 hour.

Since we had taken so long, The Boy had already prepared all the food and it was waiting patiently for us on the table. I felt terrible that we didn't help at all in the preparation and the only thing we contributed was a couple liters of knock-off Coke. Ugh again. Both of our Chinese hosts were just glad for our company, though, and I had one of the best meals of my life. Garlic-rubbed baked chicken, some spicy gingery soup with bean sprouts and pork, a traditional egg and tomato dish, seaweed and egg soup... It was outrageous. When I asked The Boy how he learned to cook, his response was a modest, "Well, I was hungry." When I'm hungry, I eat Clif Bars and cry about not having any real food. This guy became a chef. Amazing.

We ended up staying until close to 10:00 (so much for meeting up with Hunter and his crew) and Guillaume was texting to see if we were interested in coming out for a drink with him and Pierre, his friend from Toulouse. I thought Ashley would have had enough of Bodegon after Thursday's adventures, but she was just happy Guillaume was out at a bar. Apparently, he doesn't go out much. The 3 bus was going to take us right downtown so we scurried off to the stop up the street, only to find that it was also running extremely slowly. Seriously? The one day that I need to be somewhere in kind of a hurry just happens to be the day when nothing is running on schedule. Half an hour later, we got on the bus and Made it to Victoire by 11. Unanticipated travel time: 35 minutes

We had a few beers at Bodegon, though Pierre and Guillaume were a few ahead of us, and then went in search of another bar when the very same creepy guys from Thursday came a-lurking. I thought I said no the first time? 

Me: "Again? No. Remember? I'm about to get married!" 

Creepy guy: "Yes, okay, but until then...?"

Me: "Ew."

We wanted to check out this Australian place that was supposed to be good but couldn't find it, despite extensive searching on Guillaume's smart phone and a ton of wandering around. We eventually landed in an Irish pub on the other side of Ste. Catherine. (Unanticipated travel time: 30 minutes) You had to go home almost immediately because she didn't want to miss her bus and the rest of us hung out for one more beer. Guillaume was fading fast and even though Ashley and I were enjoying our lesson in French curse words from Pierre, we figured it was time to go.

We walked all the way back up to Victoire only to discover that we had missed the last tram of the evening. How did it get to be 1:50 so quickly?? Pierre had his car, and while he wasn't drunk, he thought it best not to drive. We appreciate your interest in our safety, but the only other option is to walk all the way back to Mérignac, which is probably less safe, especially at 2am on a Saturday night. Even though I was stone cold sober, I can't drive stick so we were at an impasse. Ashley offered to drive but Guillaume was (smartly) having none of it. Even though she seemed pretty coherent, if she got pulled over, it's jail/deportation. Pierre conceded and we hopped in his "vintage" Renault.

Since Ashley and I don't drive, and Guillaume never goes downtown, none of us knew how to get home. And all that searching for the Australian bar had drained Guillaume's phone battery so none of us had access to some sort of mapping device. Ugh again again. We made it, though, thanks to my crafty navigating skills and being able to recognize a couple key landmarks in my neighborhood. By the time I got back in the house, it was approaching 3am. Unanticipated travel time: 35 minutes.

Total Unanticipated Travel Time: 3 hours and 20 minutes 

As I flopped into bed, utterly exhausted, I couldn't help but think had I not spent so much time trying to get somewhere else, I could have been asleep before midnight...

Sketchy Dudes Please Stay Home

Since none of us have classes on Friday, Thursday has become party night. It always starts with drinks and hanging out at Ashley's place after school. A beer at the bar will cost you at least 4€ so we stock up on cases of the cheap stuff from the grocery store. Ashley, You, (the tallest Chinese girl I have ever met) and I had a grand old time talking about stereotypes and cultural differences over a couple beers and when we started YouTube'ing different versions of the national anthem so we could sing along and get emotional about 'Merica, it was obvious that we were ready to head out.

First stop: The Cock and Bull. This place is your typical English pub, complete with an old British owner who seems so charming with that little accent but is actually just kind of creepy. Ashley won him over a while back and now he gives her doubles for the price of a regular drink. Maybe a double Long Island was a bit excessive but who am I to judge? Turns out Ashley's eyes were bigger than her liver and ended up giving most of it to me. I know there's some rhyme about liquor and beer that's supposed to help you not feel like death the next day but when you drink the cheapest beer you can find and Long Island Ice Teas, you're going to feel like death no matter what you do. Oh well.

In an effort to sober up a bit, it was off to Bodegon for dancing. I had been to this place before on my first night out with Ashley and it was a bit dicey, what with the random girls taking their shirts off and dancing on the bar while it was on fire, but I'll try anything twice. The music that night was really good (read: American) and the crowd was a bunch of friendly-looking students. Drunk Ashley is a friendly Ashley so we were very quickly integrating into other groups at the bar. Fun times had by all!

And then creepers came out and now, instead of having a nice time, I spent the rest of the evening trying to fight away the sleaziest characters in the place. I don't care if you have a nice place not far from here. I don't want to see it. I don't care that you make a lot of money. I don't need it. I don't care that you have a fancy leather jacket. It looks tacky. You smell like cigarettes and BO and I'm not interested. And P.S. I'm engaged so try your creepy tactics on some other poor girl. Gross.

After about half an hour, just as it was starting to become unbearable, I realized it was getting late anyway and we decided to leave. We went to gather our things but Ashley's phone and tram card were missing. Super not good. After 20 minutes of looking under tables and interrogating all the sketchy guys that had been lurking around us, we had to give up the search. You had already caught the last bus to her place and the trams back in our direction only run until 1:30. There's nothing like losing all your stuff to really ruin a mostly enjoyable evening and I felt bad about the whole situation. She later recovered her tram card from the Cock and Bull but the phone was still MIA after calling it all night and the next day.

I really want to believe that her phone just fell out somewhere, you know, because these things happen when you're drinking, but it is also entirely possible that one of those sketchy guys that was leaning all over her may have lifted it right out of her pocket. Everyone is quick to say, "Well, if you don't want your stuff stolen, don't go out drinking" but why aren't we saying "Don't steal people's stuff"? This victim-perpetrator-blame thing has been getting a lot of press lately and while I wouldn't consider myself a feminist, I really don't think it's too much to ask that if you're a guy and you see a girl in a bar who might be a bit intoxicated, maybe it shouldn't be a green light to go take advantage of her. No, I am not trying to let anyone off the hook here. If you're responsible enough to go out and have a couple of drinks, you should be responsible enough to keep track of your things. But I also don't think it's fair to blame the victim of a theft. They're not the ones breaking laws and violating people...

And even if these guys didn't take her phone, they were still hella sketchy and I just don't understand how they could possibly believe that they're smooth. If I told you I wasn't interested, walked away and told you to leave me alone, why are you still trying to talk to me? I know my French isn't perfect, but typically when someone pushes your face away from theirs, it's a sign that they don't want you to try to kiss them. Just saying! If you are a creeper, please stay home and leave me alone. Thanks!

On a lighter note but definitely in the same vein of this story, this video made me laugh pretty hard.

Only Rainbows After Rain

Having spent the first 22 years of my life in Upstate/Western New York, I am no stranger to cold weather. It was not uncommon for it to snow on Halloween and/or Easter and school wasn't cancelled for anything less than a record-setting blizzard. I suppose I have been a bit spoiled in comparably balmy Baltimore the past five years but I still like to think that I can hang when the temperatures start dropping. The thing I can't stand, though, is cold rain, and wouldn't you know winter is the rainy season is Bordeaux.

It's tragically gray most mornings now and as we approach the shortest day of the year, it's not only gray from the cloud cover but also because the sun is not all the way up yet. It makes it really tough to get out of bed when you know that you're going to spend the day being cold and damp. Even more maddening is the unpredictability of the rain. It can start off as a beautiful day, without a cloud in the sky and then BAM. It's pouring and you didn't even consider bringing an umbrella. Sometimes it's the opposite: I put on my rubber-bottom boots and my rugby rain jacket only to discover that it has decided to be done raining for the day. Mother Nature taunts me, "Ohhh did you leave your sunglasses in the house? That's too bad because it's gonna be extra bright with all the sunshine reflecting off this wet pavement. And tomorrow, when you think it's going to be nice out, it's gonna pour, but only for the five minutes it takes you to walk from the tram to your apartment. Suck on that!" Not cool, Mother Nature. So not cool.

Just like in Baltimore, the rain makes people forget how to drive and it took me a long time to get to my family meetings on Tuesday. I know I am genetically predisposed to be late (my internal clock is set on CPT) but I really hate it. France is a little less hung up on strict timelines than the US but it still makes you look bad when you roll up to meet someone for the first time and you're fifteen minutes later than you said you'd be.

Even though both meetings went well, the stress of running around in the rain and being late really drained me, and by the end of the day, I was absolutely exhausted. Jason had sent me something for Christmas/my birthday but I didn't have the chance to go by the post office to pick it up because the terrible weather had set me back so much. On top of all this, we found out that our normal teacher, Mylène, has thrown out her back and will be out for the next two weeks. In the meantime, we're going to have other teachers cover her classes and combine with other levels so we don't have to make up any sessions later. It's a pain for everyone involved. Just as I was about to log this day under the "Not So Great" column, I remembered how the whole day had started: a perfect rainbow, arching across the whole sky, visible for my entire commute to school.

So what if it was gross outside and you were a little late to your meetings? It was no big deal and they were super understanding. So what if you didn't get to the post office today? The package will still be there tomorrow. So what if you're a little more tired than usual? You worked hard today. You should be tired. You are taking French lessons at a private institute with teachers who push you to be better every single day and are willing to make sacrifices of their own to make sure you're getting your money's worth. You just met two amazing families that are going to pay you to hang out with their kids and do what you do best. You have an incredibly thoughtful fiancé who scoured the internet for the perfect birthday/Christmas gift to be delivered to you right here in Bordeaux. When you have all that going for you, a little bad weather seems pretty insignificant.

So let it rain. After all, you need a little rain if you want to see a rainbow.

Four-year-olds and F-bombs

Today, a story about why pronunciation is important.

I am working for this company called Babylangues and they set me up with two different French families to teach their young children English through songs and play. I had meetings with both families today. Ema was still in school when I met with her parents but I caught up with Alexis (a boy, the s is silent) and his family in the evening. On the way back to their house from the school, Alexis was telling me about his day. He has a "class" in which the kids learn English through little puppet shows featuring various characters. He explained, in his tiny little French voice, how much he enjoyed the stories about Mister Wolf and proceded to tell us about the new character they met today: Mister Fuck.

I know this child did not just drop the F-bomb. Maybe he's just confused.  "Mister Phoque?" I asked, hoping for some clarification. "Les animaux qui habitent dans la mer?" In French, the word for seal sounds almost exactly like fuck. An easy mistake, right?

"Non non. C'est un animal mais il habite dans le forêt"Alexis corrected. Okay, seals definitely don't live in the forest. Even a 4-year-old knows that. So if he's not saying phoque, then he really is telling me that the name of this character is Mister Fuck. What are they teaching these children at this school??

Suddenly his mother, who I later find out speaks English quite well, suddenly realizes what he might be saying. "Ohhh! C'est un renard! Mais je ne sais pas comment dit-on en anglais."

Un renard? What the phoque is a renard? My brain is reeling, trying to dig this vocabulary word out of the depths of my memory. Not canard. That's a duck. Close in both English and French, but no cigar. Renault? That's a brand of cars, genius. No no no. This is a mess. Mom and Alexis try explaining to me what a renard is but I am drawing a blank, especially because I am so jarred by this child telling me about Mister Fuck.

"Maybe... Fucks?" Mom offers. FUCKS??? Are you kidding me? Yeah, I suppose sometimes there are fucks in the forest, but somehow I doubt they talking about my last camping trip.Why are these kids learning about Mister Fucks? What a terrible name for a character in a children's story! Mom plays with the word a little, hoping to land on something I'll recognize, but she just ends up sounding like a drunken sailor: "Fucks? Fuck? Facks? Fooks?"

And then, like a bolt of lightning, it dawns on me what we have been talking about for the last five minutes. "Peut-être Mister FOX?"

"Oui oui oui c'est ça!" Alexis shouts, thrilled to have conveyed his message to me. "Mister Fuck!"

"Attention, Alexis," his mother corrects. "Mister Fucks."

Watching Cat Videos on YouTube Doesn't Count as Research

Someone please tell me how it's already December. I don't understand how time can simultaneously crawl and fly but that's exactly what it feels like right now.  I have been here for a measly three weeks but November 8th feels like it was ages ago. Perhaps it's because each day here is chock-full of new excitement and adventure even when I do nothing but troll the internet. Yeah, I spent four hours looking at stuff online... FRENCH STUFF. You know, research.

The first major thing I need to find is an apartment that Jason and I can both live in. The Residence Hippocrate is fine for just me, but we tried to fit into one dorm room bed when I was at Temple for Institute and it just didn't work. I'm a grown ass woman! I should be sleeping in a grown as woman sized bed! The trouble with finding an apartment is tri-fold in our case:

1) We'd really prefer something furnished. Since we're only here for a year or two, it would be a lot of stuff to have to buy only to turn around and sell moments later. (There is an IKEA here but still. Furnishing a whole place all at once ain't cheap.)

2) We want to live somewhere near downtown but not spend a fortune on rent and also be close to work/school. This is physically impossible because his job and my school are both located in the west and downtown is all the way east. It takes at least 50 minutes to get from downtown to Pessac and that's if you're staying right on the tram line with no transfers. Holy commute, Batman.

3) We do not have a French guarantor to tell a future landlord that we're good for the rent every month. I think this is completely unnecessary if Jason can prove that he has a job and a contract for a given amount of time but this is not how it works in France. Ugh!

I have a few leads on some places, thanks to Jason's future colleague, Steve, so I guess I have some visits to make in January.

I have also spent a lot of time looking for ways to stay in the country once my classes are done. I like Esarc Evolution just fine but as Mylène said, it won't be enough for me if I am planning to stay here for a while. It's also way too expensive to try and take classes with them for two years. I have been investigating the University of Bordeaux 3, which holds the Department of French as a Foreign Language. Apparently, lots of people from Esarc transfer there once they get their language skills up and I am hoping to do the same. It's about 1/3 the cost of a private center like Esarc and they offer not just language courses, but literature and foreign language instruction pedagogy classes, too. That sounds right up my alley. Unfortunately the website is not exactly the easiest thing to understand and I think I need to just write an email to them and get some answers.

There is also this French teaching assistantship program offered by the French government that I think would be really cool. It's a paid position and is very much in the vein of my career aspirations, but I would have to spend half the summer back in the US getting a work visa. It's also not guaranteed that I would be placed in Bordeaux since it's a national program. Even if I did get placed in this area, I could be out somewhere in the sticks and without a car, that would be pretty tough to do.

Confession: I have been planning our wedding. But it's not pathetic anymore because I'm engaged for really real now! For the moment, it's all completely hypothetical since we have no idea where we'll be or what we'll be doing a year or two from now and it's really tough to try to plan an event in a place where neither of you will be living. Between theknot.com and Pinterest and weddingawker, I have a ton of ideas about things I think would  be really awesome and fun but I haven't really consulted my other half on any of it. When I did, he had no opinions, so I guess I'll keep living the fantasy for a while longer.

I suppose blogging takes up a bit of time, as does checking Facebook to see what's happening in the world back home. I found a site where I can stream movies with French dubbing for free and I watched Mulan the other night. Watching movies you've seen a million times is actually a really good way to learn new words. I have decided to better myself in other ways since I have the time now: I want to get more flexible so I am starting a stretching routine. Promises splits in 30 days! I don't know if that's possible but I'm going to try. I had a push-up routine I was doing a long time ago and I want to get back into because no matter how strong I look, I still can't do that many push-ups for some reason. And I am reading a lot. I wish a had a Kindle or a Nook so I could have endless books at my disposal without all the bulk and hassel of getting them here. You can't buy any new books overseas due to copyright laws but I could load up on 50 or so when I'm home and that would easily last until my next visit back to the States.

All this research might have to take a back seat, though, because I am starting work next week. I meet both of my families on Tuesday so hopefully that will go well and I'll be making some cash money. I am slightly concerned about my Wednesday commute since I am supposed to make a 45 minutes trip in half an hour but we'll see. Might need to wear some running shorts under my outfit...

What I need to be looking for is Christmas gifts. Why am I so terrible at gift giving??? Looks like I know what I'm doing tomorrow! There's certainly nothing else to do around here on a Sunday except play on the internet.