June 2007 Archives

so thomas completely surprised me.  the other day i was running around the airport like a madwoman desperately trying to gather students arriving in every terminal as far away as possible from the next.  i got to the last terminal for the last set of students and there he was.

i was utterly confused and surprised to say the least because i did not understand exactly who i was seeing.  he had told me all along that there was no possibility of him coming over here for 7 weeks.  so why would i be seeing him at the airport  with my students?  why would he be standing there?  surely it was some other german in thomas' clothes...

but no.  it was thomas who had decided that this would be a romantic and happy surprise to come and spend a week with me in paris.  and here he is.  sitting and drinking an espresso with me while he reads a book and i post this.  i must admit... i liked this surprise...

i love riding the metro.  even better is seeing a monk in full regalia (or not regalia as the case may be) get on the metro and then stand next to a student reading sade.

only in paris.  only in the metro.

these are the things that i am enjoying here in paris... things i know for a fact that "someone else" would enjoy so much more than me:

• petits écoliers
• haribo
• orangina
• all the new fruit juices the fiap has to offer...
• cherries
• VOLVIC CITRON (oh baby, you know you love it)

is there anything i am missing?

i really do think swiss german is the funniest sounding language ever.  it could be that it is in german and a funnier version of it.  it could be the accent.  it could be the 15 year old swiss german children drinking beer.  it could be the houka they smoke nightly...  it could be that swiss german is just a funny language.  i dunno.  but that is what i am thinking at the moment.

i think one of the reasons i love being in france and in paris has to do with the way people speak.  in general, i have a very foul mouth and will curse at the drop of a hat.  my favorite is always fuçk and one of its many forms.

this morning, while shopping with a friend, i waited patiently to go try on the dress i saw yesterday but didn't have in my size.  while waiting, all the clerks for the shop were strolling in and out and conversing the entire time.  every other word out of their mouth was "fuçk" this and "sh!t" and "whore".  granted, they used the french words.  as i stood there and listened i started to look around to see the reactions of others.  nada.  or rien if you prefer.

i smiled and started to nod because we speak the same language.

have you ever thought about how cities are defined?  i find it fascinating that when you get to know someone you can figure out what kind of city they would like and where they would feel most comfortable.  i have been told on numerous occasions that san francisco or seattle would suit me perfectly.

so i am sitting here (destination sitter) pondering how i can define paris.  i mentioned in the previous post that it is a city of layers which is very true if you think about it geographically (i hope this is the right term).  i could be cliché and refer to it as the city of lights but really, most cities are filled with light and block out the stars, so i really don't think that is fair.

but something paris is, is life.  it is truly a multi-sensory expedition to reminding you how alive you are.  this morning on the metro i not only had the smell of sweat creep into my nostrils but that all too familiar smell of eau de hangover the guy next to me was wearing.  then there is the familiar stench of homeless man vomit and the reek of dog/human piss in the streets.  take a deep breath and take it all in because what you are smelling, that undeniable odor, that putrid smell is one of life.

considering how nauseating paris can be at moments i was surprised that i came to the conclusion that these smells make me alive.  one, because i am smelling them.  but two, eau de hangover dude must have had one kick ass party last night and really enjoyed himself.  homeless guy and urine in the streets are only the signatures of a city living a full life, as stinky as it can be, even rank has its charm.

ahhh, paris.  how i love you in the summer.  right now, this is the paris i know and love in the summertime.  it is cool and rainyish.  it pours and gushes at any given moment and there is that subtle cool breeze that makes you think you are standing in a doorway to an air-conditioned building.

the paris i know and love always has me carry a scarf in my bag just in case i get cold.  this is the paris of layers, the paris of getting to sit around in a park and enjoy the sun and the shade.  to get to go and relax at a cafe and sit under the awnings because it could pour.  to watch all the people run and duck for cover in their local brasserie until a shower passes and while it passes they pass the time with a beer.

my paris is me sitting in various places at various times.  i walk a lot but only to get to my destination chair in another part of the city.  each little locale offers me something the other doesn't.  that one is great for watching people.  this one for reading a novel.  that one just for dozing and listening to people talk.  then there is the coffee.

my paris has millions of people carrying bags tucked with all sorts of things for different occasions.  a book just picked up that was recommended by a friend.  a new sweater to wear out.  the new pariscope with all the latest times and dates for movies this week.

my paris is my paris right now.

you know you are desperate to chat with your husband when you go to the macdo to get some free wifi.  oh yes.  i am that desperate.  but he is nowhere to be found.

so how does a jeorg spend her days in paris?  well, she spends it by realizing how much she sucks back home.  you see, i have seen all sorts of people since i have gotten here.  i have had coffee with tons of friends.  spent hours gossiping, talking, hanging out, chatting it up... and there is nothing wring with this... except, they all live in the same town i do... in the states... literally.

now, i know you are thinking, what's wrong with that?  and the answer is nothing save the small detail that i never seem to be able to get together with these people back home.  but oh, fly to paris and suddenly we all have the time to hang out.  so weird that i have to travel 3000 miles just to have coffee with a friend. 

so two days ago, it was ali, and yesterday it was some colleagues, and today it is a friend from graduate school, and later this week another colleague.  i think maybe either i am too busy back home or i truly suck as a friend...

i am finally in france.  woot.

interestingly enough, i just wrote an entire post and deleted it about why i am cranky.  it has to do with other people and what i am dealing with at the moment.  i feel better now that i got that out and did the wise thing and deleted it.

still cranké, though.

so you sometimes wonder when the travel karma will kick in.  i know for a fact that i must have clubbed a baby seal in my past life to deserve some of my travel woes.  i clubbed the hell out of that seal and then kicked it and then beat up its baby brother.

so.  i am in newark.  in a crappy hotel.  the toilet keeps running and there are weird noises.  and when i turned the corner to come down the hall to my room, i just knew those freaky-a$$ twins from the shining would be standing at the end of the hall asking me to come play with them.  i'm pretty sure they are outside the door mocking me now.

i waited for that hotel shuttle for 40 minutes.  by the way, the shuttle was soaking wet... on the inside.  yes, the seats were wet.  nice.  there is free wifi and i am in a nice king size bed.  but my flight isn't until later tomorrow and i am way to tired to do something fun and cool, like take a cab to the big city and shop.  oh my god.  traveling has clubbed my inner shopping seal.

i'm all packed.  i have everything i need to leave.  i have suitcases and passport and computer.  i have all my supplies and teaching material and books and camera and plenty of socks and panties to survive 7 weeks.  but i have this nagging feeling that i am forgetting something.

you know that feeling you get when you go over your checklist and over it, and over it, and over it.  and everything checks off.  you packed the toothbrush, you packed the socks and plenty of panties, wait, i already checked that off.

but i just know that something isn't quite right.  something isn't there.  something is being left behind.  oh.  it isn't something.  it is my someone.  my someone who doesn't get to go with me this year.  who doesn't get to stay with me for 7 weeks or any of it.  my someone is staying behind.  i will miss you, my someone.  i will continue to feel like i have left you behind, that somehow, i forgot to pack you, that you should be right there beside me.  i love you, my someone.

8am: zzzzz!

9am: zzzzz! huh?

10am: huh?

11am: harumph.

12pm: le sigh.  hot.  bright.  pretty.

1pm: mmm, food.

2pm: sjfiwen zzzzzzz!

3pm: zzzzzz!

4pm: zzzzz!

5pm: huh?  le sigh.  hungry.

6pm: grumble, grumble, hungry.

7pm: hungry.

8pm: mmmm, food!  yummy!

9pm: ooof!

10pm: yay!  tubtime!

11pm:  hehehe!

12pm: zzzzzz!

first of all, this is not news.  it is tabloid info and should only be covered as such.

but seriously, paris h. freed from jail because she was "sick" of being in jail?  really?  how many other people go to jail, not wanting to be there, crying, depressed, upset, giving up freedom, and THEY DON'T GET F*&^ING  RELEASED???

d@mn straight she should go back.  and i love the photo of her on cnn.com crying in the police car or check out trent's coverage of it.  that is what we call schadenfreude.

when the weather turns stormy, right when the thunder rumbles across the sky, and it gets dark and windy, that moment when you want to wrap up in a blanket with a good book and a cup of tea, that instant that your body says "good napping weather"... that is the moment i am drugging the dog so she will not ruin that moment for me.

we are a household of three cats, one dog and two humans.  i am sitting in the front part of the house where we will one day have the most beautiful library and reading room EVER.  i am reading my blogs, the news, etc, and the dog keeps looking up at me with utter contempt and disdain, then gets depressed and lays her head back down.

why is she doing this?  because thomas is not home.  and apparently, this is my fault.  she refuses to eat her dinner or leave the front door.  she gets up periodically and looks out the window.  looks at me, and basically says, "you are a useless human being.  where is daddy?"

at least the cats know how awesome i really am.

so yesterday, i went on the great jean hunt.  i needed new jeans and well, i am picky.  this is actually one of the reasons why i did not buy any books since i new that i was going to get a new pair of jeans and that i would be buying tons of books this summer in paris... yes, my life sucks.

me buying jeans is no small feat since i am one of the pickiest people ever born.  i will try on the same style jean 20 different times, i will go to the the same store, different branch just to see what they have.  and poor t was dragged along for the duration.  he is such a trooper.

after the millionth store, and the millionth pair of jeans, i became frustrated.  now, some women marry a fixer who would then proceed to point out how to fix the problem by suggesting other stores and places where there could be jeans.  i married an appeaser.

what does the appeaser do?  he immediately senses the frustration and distress in his wife and points out the table filled with panties and asks, "don't you need panties?"

please note, those words never come out of his mouth because he knows that the answer is "no".  i never technically need panties.  but dammit if it didn't cheer me up and make me happy.

t needed to purchase a book for school (he is going back!!! to work on being a principal!!! which is, like, the bestest job ever for him!!!).  this morning we got up early, had breakfast and went to the bookstore.  to the bookstore.  where i found a thousand books that i have always wanted to read and never have.

i have this internal dialogue in bookstores that goes like this:

me:  have you read that?

me:  no.  but i have always wanted to.

me:  didn't so-and-so read that and love it?

me: yes.  i've always wanted to read that.

that dialogue continues on like that for every book.  i want you to know, i walked out of the bookstore, without having purchased a single book.  not a one.  nada.  nothing.  i am that good sometimes...

needless to say, i have flown a lot.  and it does not worry me, frighten me, upset me, or cause me anxiety.  ironically, i don't get motion sick while flying either which can't be explained because i can totally turn green in any other form of transportation.

but you see, i never have the uneventful flight.  i have always gone through some sort of he!! to get to my destination.  be it being trapped on the plane for five hours, two hours to de-ice twice, faulty windshield wipers (apparently these are very necessary), the crazy molesting mother who is concerned about my well-being, that guy who talked to me the entire 8 HOURS, that lovely little girl who kicked my seat the entire 8 HOURS, etc.  name it, i have had that experience or one similar to it.  this.  is.  a.  competition.  i.  can.  win.

so.  if mr. tb gets to fly all over the place, who do i get to sit by on monday?

walking in today, i experienced what can only be called the ipod phenomenon.  i love my ipod, a lot.  i can't help but love that little silver magical box that brings music into my life on my 2 mile walk to the office.  it is like a magical pony to me.

but this is not the phenomenon because there have been walkmans and such for a while now.  no.  the phenomenon is the moment you forget the music is on, and it sounds like the music is in your head, emanating from your head and that all the world can hear the song you hear too.

it happened to me today.  i was passing someone on the street... i thought to myself, i wonder if he is enjoying this song as much as i am.  and then it occurred to me, he can't hear my song, there is no ipod cloud over my head... following me and sharing my music with the world.  sucks to be you, my ipod rocks.

watching the democratic debate, is it just me:

or is there no love lost between edwards and clinton?

or does everyone just love them some obama?

or is kucinich funny in a crazy way?

let me explain my title to you.  ali, you already understand my title, so :P.  in french, 8 days = 1 week.  i know what you are thinking, and let me address it quickly (no, the french did not add an extra day to the week, they'd go on strike).  in one week (american), there are seven days.  when i count out the days, i start with tomorrow, not today.  the french start with today and when you do that, you get 8.  ta-da.

but essentially, i only have that many days to get ready before i leave for the café lined streets of paris.  i am already dreaming of the sales, the shoes, the coffee, the lingerie, the coffee, and the coffee.  but it isn't the work that is concerning me.  i have some major socializing to do before i go, some family time that needs to be spent, some gifting, some bonding, and i need to engage in some major quality time with thomas.  8 days.