July 2006 Archives

<-- thomas is making this a photo free blog...

today i had the pleasure of getting a massage to relax all the tensions away.  you know the ones, grading, police reports, students, heat. 

i love that in france, spas and pharmacies are like starbucks and mcdonalds in the us; they are everywhere and on every corner.  i am exaggerating about the spas being on every corner, but the pharmacies sure are.  and the spas can be found on every other street corner.

i am not about to make generalizations about the french and what they like, but they sure do know what i like.  these people get me.  they know i like homeopathic drugs and i like it when people rub my back.  i love massages more than i love chocolate.  actually, that isn't true, but i would be hard pressed to decide between the two.  there has to be a way to have them both at the same time....

but today was a real turning point in my massage experiences.  it involves my feet.  you see, i need a pedicure but have this issue where i don't want anyone to come near my feet... touching them really wigs me out.  but i was too lazy to explain this to the masseuse today, and consequently, i let her touch my feet.

i won't say that i enjoyed that part tremendously, especially when she was touching my toes, but i didn't flail my body off the table and start screaming obscenities in any language i could think of either.  i think this is a step in the right direction.  namely a much needed pedicure.

maybe, in order to get over this foot quirk that i have, i need to go into massage therapy.  once a week, get a massage to help me deal with this... i think i should give that a shot...

<-- this is becoming a habit...

where i stay in the summers, here in paris, gets invaded regularly by the english and their large groups of offspring.  now, i know that the children do not belong to the five or six supervisors since there are about 30 kids, but for the trip, they belong to the supervisors. 

i am about to offend all british people.  so if you are one, please pull out a pen and paper to take notes.

the children and the adults, and it is not just the children, but the adults as well.... fully grown british people.  i would also like to point out that this is not just one group.  this is about ten different groups i have witnessed... this summer.  i could do some math and add in the ones from the prior two summers as well, but that would be obscene.

back to the point: none of them know how an elevator (so that the brits will understand, the lift) works or functions.  they do not understand that the up button calls for an elevator to go, well, up.  or that the down button calls for an elevator to go... that's right, down.

there is a light that lights up and it is an arrow.  it points in the direction the elevator is going.  up for up.  down for down.  now.  all of this seems like common sense but apparently for the british, once they step in front of the lifts, they break out into a cold sweat and immediately start to panic.  and what do they do?  they push both the up and the down button.

now i know that they can't go to both places at once.  but this is what they do.  and when an elevator comes... they get on.  they don't check to see if it is going in their direction, no.  they just get on.  and then they push the button for the exact opposite direction.  the funniest part of the whole thing is, they seem frustrated that the elevator doesn't go in the direction they wanted.  "i told it to go to the basement, why is it going to the 8th floor?"

in all of this mass confusion, ultimately everyone pays the price.  the elevators stop working or are tied up with the british riding them up and down, not really sure when to get on or off.  thus causing mass amounts of frustration for the rest of the hotel population, including the spanish, the swiss, the germans, the americans, the italians, the argentenians and the french; all of which know how to use an elevator.

if anyone ever wants to bring the british empire down, if anyone ever wants to destroy great britain, if anyone ever wants to invade the islands, just install elevators in every building.

<-- my hubby has some photos to post.  phewie.

so how does jeorg spend another hot day in paris?  well, let me tell you.  she drags her students to some of the finer chocolate establishments in paris and makes them buy chocolates, and then eat, i am sorry, eat does not adequately express this... hmmm, shall i say gobble... yes,  and then gobble them up in the tuileries.

let me just say a few things about eating fine chocolates.  damn.  damn.  damn.  yes.  i cursed.  the smell in the stores was divine.  the sound.  divine.  the sights.  divine.  all of it was basically a moment in which we transcended the heavens and talked to god through chocolate.  chocolate, i have decided is the only mediator between us mere humans and god.

we each died a little today while eating those chocolates.  but i think it was worth it.

<--  thine photo-eth go-eth here-eth.

even in paris.  yes.  even in paris i am probably the most boring person you will meet.  as exciting as this is, i am no ms.glaze living out my kitchen fantasies.  no, no, no.  i lead a rather mundane life while abroad, or a broad since both are true.  although, i have never been a man even though the name is jeorg.

i have a routine here.  it involves grading and drinking lots of coffee.  thinking of those shoes that thomas visited with me twice over in les halles that are just so adorable and they had my size and i loves them ever so much.  i digress.  i spend my time going to the market, or walking, or reading.  really, i do exactly what i would do if i were at home in ky, but instead, in paris.

i even avoid grading journals in the exact same way.  i choose to play a game or read and in this case, post about my banal life in paris.

today, i broke from tradition and went to the movies by myself.  something i loathe doing.  i love watching movies at home, even by myself, but the cinema is meant to be shared with someone.  i gots nobody here to love me since my man (say it with a high pitch) went away.  it sounds like a blues song, don't it.

but i saw the squid and the whale and really appreciated the messed up qualities portrayed by all the people in the movie.  it was gritty, it was real, it was quirky, it was dark, it was funny in a dirty way, and it made me feel as though it said something meaningful.  it will make you want to talk about it with others and definitely lends itself to being discussed.  please, go see this film or rent it if it is out on dvd.

i do not recommend this film if you don't like going to the movies alone.  even in paris.

<-- ein foto, bitte.

my title ends with a period because that's the end of it.  i have nothing further to say about the weather and complaining about it is not a solution.

today, in paris, i got taken to a seedy part of town... oh my.  to a fabulous restaurant for lunch that served breton food, which i love.  i got to drink cider imported from a farm which was quite divine and tasted oh so good.  i loves me some cider.  and for those of you who don't know what it is, think of beer made from apples instead of wheat.

my meal started off with a lovely mixed green salad with a cold zucchini, eggplant and some fish brick.  it was light and delicious.  followed by a lovely tuna with more eggplant.  for dessert, i had the house specialty which was a pastry filled with a mousse.  it was light and delicious.

the best part of the meal was that i was invited.  i hadn't realized that it was the french "invite" not the american "invite."  namely the difference being, in french, invite means "i want you to come and i will pay."  whereas in english, invite means frequently "i want you to come along with me."

it was lovely to get to have a delicious meal with adults and made me wish for thomas to be there.  but next year, he and i can go to the restaurant together and get tipsy on the cider.  letting the bubbles go through our nose and enjoy that refreshingly intoxicating apple flavor trickle down. 

i do love to eat.

<-- my darling husband shall post photo here.

in the oppressing heat of paris, 36 celsius which equals hotter than he!! on the fourth of july fahrenheit, i am sitting here.  literally.  moving is stifling.

the heat has gotten to the point that i am now on my third liter of water, when i probably only drink .75 on any given day.  the air is not moving and is sitting there, waiting patiently as it smothers everyone.

i tried my old tricks of taking a nap.  but i couldn't sleep.  my pillow wet from sweat dripping from my neck and scalp.  i spread out trying to cool down and put the fan on me.  the fan only blows hot air that smells and feels like an oven.

i have finally broken.

i am a hot weather lover.  i am a spring and summer flower with nothing but respect for the heat.  but even after some time, it can get to me too.  and there is nothing i can do to fix it.  complaining doesn't make me feel better.  it doesn't change the fact that i loathe my clothes, not because i hate the way the look, but because i don't want anything to touch me.

i have fantasies of being suspended in the air, free floating and motionless with a cool breeze over me.  instead.  i am sitting here, typing this trying to accurately describe the heat. 

at least i can feel my toes.

when one is "alone" (by alone, you should read: with 14 students) in paris (yes, i know i should not complain) and left to her own devices or vices, one often thinks and reflects on oneself.

so essentially, i can go hours without speaking to people.  this is weird for me because i am generally a social person.  a quiet person, but social.  at home, it is not unusual for me to be reflective or quiet but when people are around, i am usually social.  thomas may disagree.  but without thomas, and the students off doing who knows what, i am frequently by myself which leaves me thinking about myself.

yes.  i am that vain and self centered that i would sit around and ponder myself than go to notre dame.  been there.  done that.  i can give the tour.  in two languages.

so... thomas left me for the states today.  i have never felt so betrayed by a country that my own husband would choose it than to be with me... all on the premise to go back to work tomorrow.  but we all know that he is going back for the air conditioning and watermelons the size of the vatican.

so while he is away, i become the jeorg of the days before thomas.  this is what i would be like if he were not in the picture.  my old habits emerge and are difficult to shake.  for example, the eating of 5 things.  yes.  if i were alone for all eternity, i would eat five things.  if i were on a deserted island, and could only eat coconuts and grass, i would be ok with this.  i have no problem eating the same thing all the time.

and considering how much i love food, this is a paradox for even the brightest of minds.

if someone had listened to thomas and me at dinner this evening, they would have heard the following statements:

you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him dance in it.

have you noticed that nuts dry out your mouth?

have you ever felt drunk on food?

we should be in commercials.

why must i work?  i am asking this, not as a rhetorical question, but as a serious question.this summer i have worked very hard.  now granted, i get to be in france while i do it and there is coffee and there is food and there are sales that the gods themselves worship, but work?  it interferes with my life.  it interferes with what i want to do.

i know i have it cushy and that i shouldn't complain.  but man, sometimes, the work is a bit much.  part of it is that i am having to deal with a french system, that i understand and get.  i can totally see the humor in the bureaucracy- it isn't like it doesn't exist in the states. 

but there are moments where i would just love to get to the sncf (train place) and not have to wait in line for 2 hours to buy my group tickets which can't be purchased online.  or not have to fill out a police report over the course of three hours (this i shouldn't complain about because i have actually waited five in the states before). 

work is now consoling students, letting them know that they can argue back, that it is not okay to be pushed around, to see beyond the stereotypes, to stop applying the american perspective onto the french, to show them that that church over there, well, it is more than just a photo opportunity.  all of these things add up to no small feat and i ask myself, why again am i not independently wealthy and why can't i just travel over here and do what i want? 

ah yes.  i am not paris hilton.