Work It

Finding a job is complicated for any young person but I don't think I fully appreciated the difficulty that I was about to experience here in Bordeaux. In the beginning, I was perhaps a bit too confident. I figured I would just buy myself some time (and entry into the country) by taking classes for a couple months, and then start doing some full-time work as soon as I was completely fluent in French. Because it had been so easy with Babylangues, I foolishly assumed I would be able to snatch up any job right away because I am smart, experienced, trilingual and, by God, I am special. Everyone has told me so since I was born!

There's only so much talent and experience can get you, though, and it's even less when you're an immigrant with no connections. I took it for granted that I was always part of systems up until now. I never really had to look for a job because I always knew someone who would just hire me. Baltimore City Public Schools? Teach For America got me that job! I am completely on my own here. No one knows me, I don't know anyone. On top of that, no one is in any hurry to sponsor me for a visa when they could snatch up an English-speaking EU member for way less trouble. I had been here for 10 months and all I had to show for it was a stack of letters  that all started with the word "Unfortunately." Maybe I'm not so special after all...

Then came some good news. The HR guy at Jason's lab was able to get me a conjoint de scientifique visa that would allow me to stay in the country as long as Jason is here and I would be allowed to work full-time! I will be much more marketable with a document that says I'm not leaving at the end of the semester and I am allowed to hold a normal job.

After the summer break, I got my new residency card and went back to looking for work. Progress was non-existent (or I didn't have any way to measure it) and without the distractions of babysitting or classes or trips to far off places, I was feeling a bit despondent. Beyond that, I felt guilty that I wasn't contributing financially to our household. I couldn't get a beer at the bar without feeling shitty about it because I had done nothing to earn it. Jason tried to be encouraging: "You keep our house from falling into ruin and disrepair! You take care of everything that involves talking to people in French!" But as someone coming from a decent-paying career, and paying my own bills and having my own income, it's hard not to feel a little bit worthless.

One night, we were at Guillaume's house for a gathering and I was talking to some folks about my issues finding work. Not to complain; I was hoping someone would know someone who knows someone who was looking to hire a language teacher. No luck in making any professional connections but I did get a kick in the ass from a new friend, Catherine. "You need to just go to these places and say 'I am capable, I am motivated and I am ready to work.' Don't worry about being annoying. If you're annoying, then they will know your name. You have nothing to lose."

It was exactly what I needed to hear. I can't say that I have ever tried guerrilla job hunting but I was ready to try anything to get myself out of my self-pity funk. I put on a nice outfit, got some copies of my CV and cover letter and hit the streets. I had some places I had applied to before and got no answer that I wanted to swing by and a new one I had just discovered in an ad online. The Wall Street Institute was not currently hiring but they would keep my CV for a year. Another "no" for the pile. This other place was right down the street, though, so they were next on my list. The ad for the Centre d'Études de Langues (CEL) said they were hiring "language teachers" so it seemed pretty promising. That's what I do! I teach languages!

I almost couldn't find the office because it's in the biggest building in town, but luckily they were doing work on the elevator and the door was open so I could see the sign for the center.

"Place de La Bourse" is not an address!

I grabbed the first person I saw, who happened to be in charge of the English department and new staff for the CEL. What are the chances??? "Oh yes," said Joanne, in her delightful British accent. "We are definitely looking for teachers. It's really wonderful that you came in, actually because we have some spots that need to get filled right away. Let me introduce you to Georgina, the head of the program."

I sat with Georgina for a few minutes while she read my resumé and asked me questions about my availability and then she said, "Your classes will start next week. Is that okay?"

Wait... WHAT??!?

Months of sending applications to everyone and their mother, countless forms and files painstakingly completed, diplomas dug out of storage bins in the US and shipped overseas and I'm just going to walk up in here with a smile on my face and you're going to give me a job?!?

I'm okay with it.

Here's some deets!

• Even though the CEL hired me, I currently only have classes with their partner, the Kedge Business School. Kedge was very recently known as the Bordeaux École de Management but there was a merger/takeover, a bunch of teachers weren't happy with the way things went down, and most of them left. I feel a bit like a scab for running in after all these people jumped ship but hey. I needed a job!
• In the scramble to replace all the people that left, everyone is teaching a lot of things all at once. I have 7 different courses. Luckily, I have a whole team of other English teachers to work with and we all share the responsibilities of planning and preparing the lessons. Teamwork is awesome. Having a department of people that teach what I teach is awesome. Not having to come up with all my own lessons and materials and assessments is awesome. Awesome.
• I can also work at the CEL, which operates more on a company need basis. Let's say you're Danny Wegman and you want 15 of your store managers to learn Spanish. You call the CEL and they provide you with a Spanish teacher for however/whenever you want. Classes are typically smaller with the CEL but they are also at random times because the people you're working with have day jobs. With my Kedge schedule, I'm pretty booked up for the moment but things may change for next semester. We shall see!

So that's all I have for now. More updates will come when I actually start classes later this week. Watch out, Bordeaux. You just got yourself a sassy new English teacher.

So Long Sweet Summer

After a wild summer of trekking across the US, Jason and I needed a vacation from our vacationing and decided to head down to Southern France for our last days of freedom. We chose Nice as our base of operations because of its relatively central location and tons of great places to eat/drink/explore.

In lieu of a long-winded explanation of every single detail, I have a few notes and I'll let the pictures speak for themselves. Full photo album here.

Friday: Flight from Bordeaux to Nice in the morning. Chilling on the beach in the afternoon. We stayed at the Lou Souleou Bed and Breakfast, which was lovely, except for the fact that we had to share a bathroom with the other people on the floor. I don't know how we missed that in the description of the hotel... Breakfast was simple yet delicious and it was in a great location.

Saturday: Beach. Exploring Nice. Snorkeling. The rocks aren't the most comfortable for lounging on but you get over it real quick when you realize you don't have sand in your butt crack for the next six weeks. The pizza I had for dinner was delicious but I think it didn't agree with my stomach and I was very glad to have somehow managed to not shit on myself that night.

Sunday: Rented a car and drove up into the Alps. It's surprisingly easy to rent a car with an American driver's license. We recommend rentalcars.com if you want to reserve one ahead of time. Get the mid-range insurance for a couple extra bucks per day. The peace of mind is worth it. We stopped in some cute little towns along the way including Sospel and Saorge. I thought we were going to die in a head-on collision on the winding roads but Jason was a champion and did a good job of not killing us.

Stopped in Ventimiglia, Italy on the way back to Nice because we got lost on couldn't figure out how to get to the national park just north of Saorge. Not so bad for a second choice.

Back in Nice, we were eating delicious food on the outdoor patio of this restaurant and Jason recognized some guy he went to high school with, just passing through town. We got drinks together at some bar with great live music. Serendipitous, indeed.

Monday: Day trip to Èze, Roquebrune Cap Martin, and Monaco. We got back kind of late so I don't recall if the food was delicious but it probably was.

Tuesday: Drove up to St-Paul-de-Vence in the morning, dropped off the car, and flew back to Bordeaux. Provence-Alpes-Côte d'Azure, you were awesome. Thank you for a great way to bid our summer fun farewell.

So, so long sweet summer 
I stumbled upon you and gratefully basked in your rays 
So long sweet summer 
I fell into you 
Now you're gracefully falling away

Babies...EVERYWHERE

After a post about marriage, you had to know this was not far behind. No, I am not pregnant. But everyone else is.

I suppose this is just part of what happens to people in their late 20s but seriously, when did everyone start having babies? My newsfeed is jam-packed with pictures of other people's children. Some of them are going off to school, some of them are learning to walk, some of them are rolling over for the first time and, my personal favorite, some of them are covered in bodily fluids, moments after being snatched from their mother's vagina. With the six-hour time difference, all those kids that are born in the evening on the east coast are the first things to pop up as I scroll through Facebook while eating my breakfast. Your vernix-frosted baby is making it hard for me to swallow my chocolate-frosted pastry so I need you to slow it down.

And it's not just on Facebook. There were babies everywhere this summer. Men and women alike were strapped up with those baby bandoliers that criss-cross all over your torso so your hands are free to post more pictures of your baby on social media outlets. You couldn't walk down the street without bumping into someone's baby bump. I like kids just fine, and tiny clothes for newborns are totally squeal-worthy, but I'm still light years away from being ready for children.

It got serious when my friend Becky told us all that she was pregnant. Until now, it's just been a couple kids from high school, older cousins, former co-workers/teammates, or friends of friends that I didn't really talk to that much anyway. Becky made it real. People just like me are working nine-to-fives, getting married, and cranking out small versions of themselves. Meanwhile, I am working whatever random jobs I can get, staying out drinking until 4am, and running off to the French Riviera for weeks at a time. You're posting pictures of your child? I'm posting pictures are cats that aren't even mine.

Maybe someday, my uterus will start glowing in the presence of small children instead of feeling an overwhelming urge to run away. Maybe I'll be delighted instead of disgusted when you ask if I want to feel the baby kicking. (I have seen Alien one too many times to trust things moving around inside you.) Maybe Jason and I will be done being selfish and bust out some grandchildren for our parents to spoil rotten.

In the meantime, I'll have another glass of wine and continue to sleep until noon on weekends. That's what adulthood means to me.

I Think I Wanna Marry You

In France, August means vacation. The trams and buses run less frequently and it's nearly impossible to get any type of administrative task accomplished. Independent stores and restaurants, which account for most of the businesses in France, are only open at random hours or, as is often the case, not at all. Even though it's the tourist season, business owners feel so strongly about taking their vacations that they sacrifice potentially huge profits for a month of doing nothing at the beach. August is a time to relax.

That is unless you're planning or performing a wedding.

Planning
Remember that time when Jason and I got engaged? Typically, that means that sometime in the relatively near future there will be some sort of wedding that needs to take place. We had toyed with doing an informal "paperwork" ceremony with just our parents but there were some differences in opinion and logistical issues that made us reconsider. But then again, as your average American girl, I do want the big white dress and a fancy party where everyone tells me how pretty I am all day so I guess that's what we're doing!

Shockingly, (When will they invent a sarcasm font???) Jason doesn't really care about having a wedding and has left the lion's share of the planning up to me. I am 100% okay with this. I know he doesn't care about the color of the linens or the font on the stationery so why would I even include him in those decisions? He has, however, waived all complaining and "I told you so" rights in the event that he is displeased with a decision I have made. I might have to get that in writing...

Seeing as I live in France, I have left the lion's share of my lion's share of the planning up to my mother. She has graciously offered to put on this event for us and is in a much better position to make it happen. I am doing the best I can from France, but I also understand that I am only going to be in the United States three more times before our proposed date of September 19th, 2015. A lot of the ground work will fall on her shoulders and the team of aunts/cousins/friends I know she has already assembled.

Lucky for us, we have plenty of time to work with and I already have some ideas about what this day will look like. I did some research online about venues in Rochester (there are a few too many confederate flags still flying in Waynesboro for me to feel comfortable putting on a multiracial wedding there) and narrowed it down to five places I thought might fit for us. This was how I spent my week in Rochester.

What I learned from our venue shopping experience is that I need to get into the wedding business because I would be filthy rich. $1000 to stand on your patio for 20 minutes? I just can't. $350 cake cutting fee? I will cut it my damn self. $5000 just to use the space, not even including tables, chairs or something to eat? That is unreal. We saw a lot of really nice places but when it was all said and done, there were only two that fit our budget and seemed like places I would actually like to spend a few hours with 130 or so of my closest friends and family members: ARTISANworks and the Rochester Museum and Science Center. They both have their pros and cons (including BYOB at Artisan Works and our ceremony complete with star show in the planetarium at the RMSC) so I am going to bring Jason to them both in December when we're back in town and get his opinion. Once that's out of the way, the real fun begins! And by fun I mean stress and annoying details that even I don't care about. Take it away, Mom.

Not all of my time at home was consumed by wedding stuff. I spent an evening hanging out with my old high school pals, Shelley and Erin, which was really delightful. I also caught up with my long-time friend, Lisa, who is pretty much my hero and, despite being eight months her senior, I want to be her when I grow up. She is also an amazing photographer and has already agreed to shoot our wedding. Bam! Check that off the list.

I also got to see some other members of my family while I was in town. We went out to breakfast with my niece, Zoe, before going to see my younger brother, Josh, who recently bought a house with his girlfriend, Stefanie. It's freaking beautiful and I am so proud (jealous?) of them. I also dropped in to see my older brother, Patrick, at his place in Buffalo. I was amazed by his French skills, especially since he hasn't spoken it since high school, which was 15 years ago for him. I am more and more convinced that his brain operates on a completely different level than the rest of our's. Take that as you will.

As I was packing up for part two of my "vacation," I felt a little overwhelmed by the whole process of wedding planning, but at least I was heading in the right direction. We're going to make it work!

Performing

A few weeks before Jason and I got engaged, our very dear friends, Paul and Ama beat us to the punch. These two are pretty much the reason we're even together so we owe them a huge debt of gratitude so when they picked Jason to be the best man and later asked if I would officiate their ceremony, we certainly couldn't say no. All the cool kids are getting ordained these days so I Googled it and 15 minutes later, I was a minister!

I flew from Rochester to Detroit, where my former co-worker, Sarah, came to scoop me up at the airport. I cried when I saw her. When you love someone as much as I love this girl, it's hard to not cry when you haven't seen them in a year. We hugged it out for at least 20 minutes while waiting for my bag and then we got Jason from the international terminal. We checked out downtown Detroit (which was surprisingly nice and I would like to publicly apologize for talking so much shit about it) got dinner at a BBQ place, and went for fancy cocktails across the street. I wish we could have stayed longer but duty calls and the next day, Paul and Ama came to pick us up and take us to Grand Rapids so we could start getting ready for their wedding.

As the best man and the officiant, Jason and I had our work cut out for us. We stuffed gift bags, assembled favors, ran errands, schmoozed with family members, and, most importantly, practiced our speeches for the big day. Have you ever tried to write a wedding ceremony? It seems like it would be pretty easy at first glance but then you realize this is the one time of the day when everyone is completely sober and paying attention to YOU. No pressure. Paul, Ama and I spent many hours coming up with just the right words and in the end, I think we pulled off a really lovely ceremony. Paul's parents are pretty religious and even they were happy with it, despite not being held in a church with a real religious figure. Gold star for me!

The day was certainly not without its hiccups. Ama's sister/maid of honor was throwing a violent tantrum just as Ama was putting on her wedding dress, which made for a really shitty way to start the day, but I guess they worked it out because they were hugging it out and taking a million pictures together a few hours later. We were running behind schedule for pictures because hair and make-up took longer than expected and when it was time for family shots, there were some grandmother-of-the-bride corsages that somehow didn't make it to the reception site. Once the booze started flowing, however, everyone calmed down and enjoyed the evening. It was a beautiful wedding and I can't begin to explain how honored I felt to play a role in their future together.

I might need to take my act on the road. I am still job searching in Bordeaux and it seems like I could make a sack of money performing wedding ceremonies, especially for Americans having destination weddings here. Not sure about the legal aspects but I am so ready to get a slice of that wedding business pie! In all seriousness, though, I can't think of a better gift to give a friend than a really meaningful, personal wedding ceremony. It was awesome.

After the wedding, we went up to Lake Michigan for a couple nights of camping with the newlyweds and their families, which was really nice. Camping with a big group is considerably less relaxing than camping with a small one but we still had a wonderful time. It's hard not to when you're surrounded by high-quality people.

I don't know how it happened so fast but suddenly it was time to go back to Bordeaux. I certainly wouldn't call my time back home a vacation but it was SO GOOD to see pretty much all of the people I miss the most. Obviously, I wish I could have spent some time in Baltimore with the crew there or even see Jason's family in Waynesboro, but it will have to wait. We'll be back home in December for the holidays, again next August, once more in December 2014 and then... We're getting married!

'Murica

Aside from a couple quick jaunts to Canada that don't really count, my interest in the world abroad really started when I took some summer classes at the University of Salamanca in Spain when I was 16. A teacher at my school told me I would probably be pretty good at it so I went and I have been itching to travel ever since.

When I got back after my first trip to Spain, I had a hard time readjusting to my life in the States. I had obnoxiously started referring to my country as "The States," for one. Even though I was only there for five weeks, I felt like I had grown so much in this place that was so unlike my home and no one could relate. My family is a bunch of homebodies. None of my friends had ever been abroad. No one seemed to get me. Of course a lot of this has a lot to do with the fact that I was an angsty 16 year old girl who was having identity issues anyway, but my first homecoming was not a pleasant one. Neither was my return from Seville four years later after my semester abroad. I went from being a globe-trotting college kid, in a new European city every other weekend, to dead-broke, jobless bum on my parents' couch in rural Western New York. Not exactly a happy time in my life.

You can understand, then, why I was nervous to go home at the beginning of August. It had been eight months since the last time I was in the US, the longest amount of time I had ever been away from home. Obviously, I was excited to see my family but I was also I was terrified I was going to have another one of my reverse-culture shock moments and just be that horrible In-France-things-are-so-much-better snob that I could easily see myself becoming.

My trajectory was a bit jacked up from the get go and I knew I was in for some stress first thing in the morning. My original ticket was the second half of the Baltimore to Paris round-trip flight my mom got me for Christmas. (We all remember the difficulties I had on the outbound trip). I had already changed the return date (for $250) and purchased a flight from Bordeaux to Paris (for 50€) and from Baltimore to Rochester (for $100). Why I thought I could get off a plane at Orly at 9:00, gather my checked luggage, take a bus across town, and be on a flight at Charles de Gaulle by 11:15, I will never know. I was shitting myself with anxiety, waiting for this bus that was supposed to be an hour-long trip. I was sure I was going to miss my flight. Lucky for me, though, the bus was only 25 minutes and even after I got off at the wrong terminal, I still had plenty of time.

Like, four extra hours.

By the time I made it to the counter to check in, my service agent looked as though he had had a rough morning. Any time a major international flight is delayed like that, people are going to lose it. In my nicest French, I asked if he thought it was possible to make my connection in Philly. He gave me the classic French shrug and said they would help me figure it out once I landed in the US. I'm not going to be the millionth person to get in this man's face at 11am so I just shrugged right back and went to use my meal voucher.

Once we got to Philly, I had missed my connection by a measly 15 minutes. I fly pretty often and this was the first time I had ever had an issue this major so I figured I was due for it. I went to the counter to figure out some options and they had a lot of nothing for me. I could get on the 9:20pm flight to Baltimore but there wasn't another flight from Baltimore to Rochester until 9:00 the next morning and the difference in fare was $120. Nope. I could buy a ticket from Philly to Rochester for 9:50pm but that was going to be $430. Nope again. I was already exhausted from traveling and didn't have the energy to think. I called my mom in distress, who then got on the phone with the airline and fussed at enough people to get me on that flight to Rochester for free. My mom gets it DONE.

My initial thoughts upon arriving back in the US were, in this order:

1) Everything is HUGE. Big buildings, big roads, big cars, and sadly, big people. Seriously. Obesity is a problem in America. I know we all keep saying that but when you're used to living in a place like France where most people are pretty slim, it's really jarring. Yeah yeah yeah, every body is a beautiful body but when your body is bad for your health, on either end of the spectrum, maybe you should think about changing your habits.

2) Everything is LOUD. Why is everyone yelling? French people don't talk that loud. My ears were bleeding the second I stepped off the plane and the airport staff were shouting at each other across the hall. Walk over there and talk to her in a normal tone of voice. Goodness.

3) Everything is so FAST. You gotta get there and get it done like right now! NOW! People walk quickly, they talk quickly, they eat quickly and then turn around and wonder why they're tired all the time. We had lunch at a restaurant. We ordered, ate, they gave us our check and we were in and out in less than an hour. Any meal out is a two hour minimum ordeal in France.

4) This food is DELICIOUS but makes me SICK. I was nervous that I would become a huge food snob because we're so spoiled living in Bordeaux but I was not disappointed at all with the food I ate back home. The only problem is that after every single meal, I felt uncomfortably full and a pretty urgent desire to poop. Do all the preservatives and hormones and pesticides serve as laxatives as well? Yikes. I think the fullness factor also has to do with the ridiculously large portions (see #1) and how quickly you're expected to eat it (see #3). Your stomach doesn't have time to let your brain know that you're full so you just keep eating everything that's in front of you until they take it away and then you realize you just inhaled your body weight in breadsticks for no reason at all.

5) People are so FRIENDLY. The moment I entered Philadelphia International Airport, there were about a million chatty US citizens trying to get chummy with me in the passport control line. "Bummer about that delay, huh?" My French shrug doesn't quite carry the same weight here. "So where are you coming from?" Why is it so hard to say Bordeaux without sounding pretentious? "I hear it's really nice there but French people are so rude!"And I'm not sure how to respond to this because while I haven't experienced a ton of blatant douchebaggery from the French, they certainly are not the type to strike up a random conversation with a stranger while waiting to clear customs.

Perhaps it's the fact that they have to scrounge for tips just to make something close to minimum wage, but people in the food service industry were particularly aggressive in their friendliness. It was hard not to be cynical about it ("You don't really care how my day is going") after eight months of the if-you-need-something-you-can-come-find-me service in France, but I do appreciate the sense of camaraderie that is palpable in the US. Whether you like it or not, you're going to feel a little bit closer to the people around you when you have to actually interact with them.

6) COMFORT takes precedence of everything else. There's AC in almost every building and it's set at Arctic. You don't have to walk anywhere because you have a giant car to drive on a giant road and there will be ample parking at your destination. You would never think of buying a washing machine without an accompanying dryer because how else would your clothes get dry? Forget about the energy crisis or global climate change. Service workers break their necks to make sure you have everything you need at every moment because it would kill you to wait an extra minute for your decaf non-fat soy latte. (See also #3.) We buy instant meals made from processed "foods" because having to prepare a dish on your own takes away much needed time from watching TV or dicking around on the Internet. All of these things are signs of wealth and prosperity, which should be a good thing, but instead I feel like it has made a lot of people impatient and spoiled.

7) Everyone works so MUCH. When I explained to my family that Jason has 6 weeks mandatory paid vacation on top of the normal government holidays, they thought I was kidding. "I don't know what I would even do with all that time!"I don't know... Go on vacation and see your friends/family you have been promising to see for years. Read a book. Get in shape. Work on that project you started and never finished. Take a break from your hectic job and enjoy your life! Just because you work 50 hours a week for 50 weeks of the year doesn't mean you're more productive. In fact, it's usually the opposite. But we feel guilty for taking time off because everyone around us is working so much and if I'm not working, I must be a slacker. Am I suggesting that we take off from work for the entire month of August like France? No, but I do think we need to take more time for ourselves. You are not just your job.

8) Everyone is so PROUD. American's are known for loving our country and while I was once a bit embarrassed by our over-zealous patriotism, after spending some time in France, I actually kind of appreciate it. On Bastille Day, France's national holiday, I didn't hear the Marseillaise even one time. NOT ONCE. There were a few extra flags here and there, but mostly on government buildings, and I am certain no one rocked a bleu blanc rouge tie to work. The fireworks display was decent but there wasn't even any music with it. This may have been due to technical problems, but had it been in the US, the whole crowd would have stood up and burst into an a cappella version of God Bless America, complete with three part harmony. Followed immediately, of course, by a tearful rendition of the Star-Spangled Banner and at least one accidental gunshot wound. A small price to pay for any true patriot.

So, I didn't have a mental breakdown, I don't think I offended anyone with my stories of my time in France, and best of all, I think I might even love America a little bit more. Sometimes I feel a bit like this guy, but at the end of the day, I'm still proud to be an American and I am happy to have the opportunity to represent my country abroad. You're crazy, 'Murica, but I love you anyway.