Reunited and It Feels So Good

I have woken up with the refrain from that song stuck in my head every single day because it's exactly how I feel. Jason has been here for just over a week and life has been awesome. We still have a bunch of work to do to get fully established here: the housing situation is still not resolved and we're still in this tiny dorm room. Jason still does not have a bank card or a cell phone. I still have no plan for the fall. But somehow it seems so much more manageable with him here. It's strange because now I have twice as much to do since I am taking on the administrative duties for the both of us, but it seems much less stressful because I enjoy helping him out.

When he got here last Tuesday, I took Jason on a walking tour of the city. He thought it was really beautiful and after seeing Centre Ville, he understood why I was in such a hurry to leave Mérignac. It's not that bad living out in the suburbs, but if you could be living downtown, in a way better apartment for not that much more money, it doesn't really make sense to stay out here.

We stopped at Auchan on the way back from our tour and picked up some stuff for a nice dinner. Jason made me magret du canard with duck fat fries and roasted brussel sprouts. I thought I was doing well in the kitchen and then I remember that Jason really knows what he's doing and I am happy to reclaim my place as sous-chef. Some day soon we'll have a real kitchen again and then it's gonna be on like donkey Kong.

We'll be all making toast... LIKE A BOSS

Wednesday was a nice chill day in the house, listening to music and watching movies on Netflix thanks to AirVPN. Another six hours of class toute seule on Thursday so poor Jason was home alone all day but we made up for it by going out for dinner at Parlement des Graves, right off of Ste Catherine. Jason's boss recommended it and it certainly did not disappoint. I explained that this was our first real French meal together, and our server really took the time to pair each course with a good wine and was super attentive. It was a very bordelais meal and I was very satisfied. We stopped next door for a beer and then wandered around before grabbing a night cap on our way home. It's pretty much how we'd spend a nice evening back home except this time with 100% more French!

We slept in on Friday and went to Jason's new lab in the afternoon. Amidst a sea of technical difficulties, it took us a while to find the right building. Technology is only cool when it works. But it was nice seeing the new place and it sounds like it's a pretty ideal situation for Jason. We met a bunch of his co-workers, including this guy Guillaume who has new best friend material written all over him. I was there with some ulterior motives and lamented about our housing situation to anyone who would listen, hoping someone would take pity on us and offer to be our "garant." They all agreed that it seems a bit excessive for this woman to ask for so many documents from us and from a "garant" and they advised that we look elsewhere. It's obnoxious because I keep getting so many conflicting messages about what is normal and expected and what's not, but I will leave the gory details for a post about finding housing once I get it all figured out.

We went to Ed's place in the country on Saturday to hang out and it was a stellar day. It was sunny and warm so we grilled out and it was really fun. His wife and kids are really sweet, too. Good company + good weather + good food = good times, if you ask me. We ended up staying until 11 or so, and I felt kind of bad because Ed had to drive us back to the city in the middle of the night. If they didn't live so far or we had a car of our own, we might hang out there more often.

We wanted to go to the Capucins market on Sunday but we got home so late that we ended up sleeping a little later than anticipated and it didn't happen. Laundry day it is. I was out of socks and underwear anyway. There was also talk of meeting up with Hunter for dinner but Jason wasn't feeling so great so it was probably for the best that he never called me back.

This week it's back to reality. Jason started work on Monday and I am back to working my regular hours. We're going on a field trip tomorrow morning and then I have a test in the afternoon. Ashley and Guillaume have invited us for dinner tomorrow, which should be nice. Friday will be an errands day, like always, but then it's the weekend and I am very much looking forward to spending it with my man.

It's pretty amazing what one really awesome person can do for your mood, isn't it? LOVE IS THE BEST.

Unpacking Biases

It's about to get real up in here.

This story requires you to know some more about me. My mother is black and my father is white. I grew up in a quiet suburban/rural area and attended a mostly white school district. I had no concept of my race until about middle school when a friend brought it to my attention that my hair was really different from everyone else's. And my nose and lips and skin, for that matter. She brought up an interesting point but I didn't give it much thought.

My family was very well "blended," if you will, and I was part of a racially diverse group of friends, despite the school demographic at large. Aside from having slightly different colored skin, everyone in my life was pretty much the same: well-educated, middle-class, average in every way. No one lived in the ghetto or a trailer park. No one lived in a mansion. We didn't talk about race because it just wasn't an issue.

I went to a private college in the north-east and the majority of students there were white. To me, this was no big deal because it was just like my high school. I hardly even noticed. But there was a distinct difference between the humble, small-town folks I grew up with and the majority of the students at Ithaca: Money. 

With money comes privilege and, as I was quickly learning, privilege meant not having to interact with brown people. Brown people might come to clean their houses or manicure their lawns. Brown people might repair their BMWs or bus their tables after their five-star restaurant dinner. But they were not friends with brown people. They didn't talk to brown people. They were maybe even a little afraid of brown people. So afraid they wouldn't even talk about it at full volume. Why did you just whisper black to describe the guy we were hanging out with yesterday?

This seemed odd to me because my understanding of black was almost exclusively isolated to my experience with my friends and my mom's family and this was not the same image I had of minorities. They weren't super rich but they were doing well for themselves. They were articulate and worldly. Progressive. How could it be that I had this notion of black people and theirs was so different?

And then I moved to Baltimore. 

Talk about the other end of the spectrum. I went from a predominantly white college, where the average student was paying $38K/year out of pocket because it was well within mommy and daddy's budget, to a city comprised mostly of black people, the majority of which live in poverty. And these were not the black people I knew and loved. They were aggressive, they were ignorant, they were angry. They were in gangs and carried weapons. They were scary. 

(The difference between the black people I knew and the black people in Baltimore? Money. But I'll save my rant on socioeconomic status for another day.)

Am I exaggerating? Perhaps a bit. Am I generalizing? Certainly. But keep in mind my frame of reference. My experience to this point had not prepared me to deal with what was happening in this city. Try as they might, the diversity seminars at the TFA institute did not really help me understand what I was getting into.

You're waiting for the happy ending. You're expecting me to say that I left that city culturally competent and realizing the stereotypes are all wrong. I wish I could say it, but it would be a lie. 

Until then, I thought being black was something to be proud of. It was strength and unity. It was beautiful and unique. It was a rich though tortured history that proved the resilience of the human spirit. It was making the impossible possible by working together.

In Baltimore, I learned that being black means that you trust no one. It means that you look for someone to blame for your problems. It means violence is the solution to every conflict and if you choose to turn the other cheek, you're a "faggie." It means hopelessness: you are going to be stuck in this cycle of misery forever and it's because you're black.

Were there people that didn't fit this mold? Yes, obviously. Were there times when I saw teamwork, compassion, ingenuity? Of course. But what leaves a bad taste in my mouth and a pit in my stomach is that my time in Baltimore made me less hopeful and more disappointed. Less proud and more frustrated. Less tolerant and more biased.

Case and point: On my way to band practice today, I saw two black guys with braids à la Coolio, dressed in black hoodies, dark jeans, and Timberland boots. They looked like every corner kid that dropped out of school because trappin' was a lot easier than trigonometry. They looked just like the guys that leered at me as I walked down McCulloh Ave, telling me my ass was looking too fine in dat skirt. They were the spitting image of the inked up weed-smoking, 40-drinking thugs that have five or six baby-mommas and just caught their fifth or sixth charge. I wish I had some pepper spray. What is he holding? Is that a gun???

I put on my "Don't fuck with me" face and tried not to make eye contact. I rang the doorbell to Hunter's place, hoping that he'd buzz me in quickly and I could get away from these sketchballs. Why are they lurking around here anyway. The one with the gun turned to me and asked, "Est-ce que tu es ici pour le jam? Le groupe de musique avec Louis?"

It wasn't a gun. It was a flute. 

And I was ashamed.

It's All Coming Together

I finally got in touch with the woman that's handling the apartment I found for us. When I spoke to her on Tuesday, she told me she'd call me back and then never did. I finally called her myself today and she told me she had been waiting for me to hall her. Maybe I misunderstood her earlier in the week but either way, if I were a real-estate agent and there was an eager young couple trying to move into my property, I would be calling them every day to make sure they were still interested, just in case. But I digress.

I have a meeting with her on Monday to submit our file. It's going to be a busy day: I have class in the morning and then a test in the afternoon because I won't be there on Tuesday to take it with the rest of my class. Luckily I don't have to work, but it's going to take some coordination to get all the way from school out to Chartrons by 5:00. I also don't have any checks (they were extra and who even uses checks in France anymore? No one.) but apparently I can't just do a transfer for the deposit. I think I'm going to try and do some kind of money order or something but I'll have to ask when I see her since it's already the weekend now. There's a post office down the street so if it's all good, I can run down before  it closes and get it. Fingers crossed.

Also awesome: Made some homemade mayonnaise today and it was DELICIOUS. I don't even like mayonnaise and this was the truth. Tuna and cucumber sandwich on French bread? Yes, I will.

Less awesome: I went down to the school system central office today to submit my file and try to figure out what I could do to start working here and couldn't figure out how to get in the place. There seemed to be some kind of a door but it was gated and involved intercoms so I was intimidated and just left. Sack up, Nicole! And I looked so cute, too...

Not really awesome, but necessary: Submitted my birth certificate to be translated today and that means I'll be able to apply for Social Security! I will have insurance and I'll actually have a presence here. France doesn't know you if you're not in the system. I guess that's a good thing if you're running from the law, but not a good thing if you plan to live here for a while.

Awesome again: Going to have some beers with friends! Peace out!

Plus/Delta

Plus:
-Have you ever made your own hot chocolate? I don't mean opening a packet of Swiss Miss and pouring it in a mug of hot water. I mean melting chocolate and heating up milk on the stove. If you haven't, I highly recommend it. I put in a spoonful of nutella and a spoonful of peanut butter to give it a nutty kick and it was probably the best thing in I have ever drunk. Seriously, it was delicious. Seriously delicious.

-I killed it on this assignment I had for class today. I know I'm a grown-ass woman but I still get such a thrill out of doing a really good job on my school work. Some days I am more inspired than others. Today was one of those days.

-As a fan of the English language, this made me laugh pretty hard. This, too.

-Friends! Made some popcorn and drank some wine at Jun's house last night and it was great. (Popcorn in France is sweet, which is an abomination, so we made our own, America-style.) This weekend, I have been invited over for dinner at Shuo and Tao's house, which I am super excited about! I have phone numbers. In my phone. For people. In France.

Random Chinese show thing that I went to with the Chinese kids last weekend. I know about six phrases in Chinese but my friends are so sweet and translated for me. Into French. That's how we do.

-Snow! It was fat, wet snow and it didn't stick, but it was still really pretty. I literally gasped when I woke up and saw it falling. I love that.


-I am definitely one of those people that likes to have a trapper keeper full of appointments. My iCal used to be jam-packed with a million events everyday and I was feeling a little sad about not having anything on my schedule anymore. My brilliant ginger friend Sarah suggested that I note all the stuff I have to do, even if I don't need to write it down to remember. Of course I already know when I have to watch Ema and Alexis because it's the same every week, but there was something strangely satisfying about putting it in the books. That girl might not have a soul, but she's pretty smart and knows just what I need in my Type-A life.

Delta:
-I'm starting to wonder if something about my presence gives small children an uncontrollable urge to take a dump. Alexis and I got locked in the back yard (8-foot fences that only lead to other fenced in back yards, no possible exit, mom wasn't coming home for another hour and a half) and all of a sudden he has to poop. I didn't have any tissues or anything in my pocket so we had to scrounge up some leaves, which was no easy feat in the dead of winter, and it still wasn't quite sufficient. I knew that dog poop was an issue here but human poop? Come on now.

-I'm gonna need people between Mériadeck and Ste Catherine to stop doing whatever it is that they're doing because it really messes up my travel plans when Tram A is blocked at Centre Ville. It seems like every other second there is a manif or an incident or a random children's parade that has the tram line all jacked up and it's really annoying.

You're awfully cute but please get out of the road.

-Did I accidentally set my email signature/voicemail message to say "Don't worry about getting back to me. I can read your thoughts and know just what you're going to say"? Because that's what it has felt like lately. I have questions, I am going through the appropriate channels to ask them, and no one seems to be interested in answering me. I want to move into your apartment. Don't you think you'd want to get in touch with me so I can give you my money? I want to stay in your country and pay taxes. Don't you think you'd streamline the process for that? I want to get my documents in order so I am legally allowed to be here. Don't you think that's a bit time-sensitive and warrants a response like... now? I am a good, compliant American. Tell me what to do and I'll do it but I'm not psychic!

-Got that icky feeling in my throat again. I just got over my cold so I'm supposed to be done being sick for the year! I think it's a combination of irregular sleep patterns and not eating enough fruits and veggies. I haven't gone grocery shopping in two weeks because I was trying to use up all my food before moving, but it looks like I'm going to be here a little longer and I'll need something to eat. I am down to rice, pasta, and butter. Plain spaghetti is not a meal, Nicole. This is not college.

-I must be getting old. Last week, I tossed the Frisbee around with some friends and went to a pole dance class and I was sore for four days. I know it's just because I haven't done any serious physical activity in a while but dang. A little jogging around and some basic spins shouldn't put me out of commission for  half the week.

2:00am already? How does this always happen to me??? Tuck me in, homie. Buenas noches.