Alrighty then.

What can I say? I am still loving Paris. Meeting some new people, connecting quickly with friends, sort of learning the language. Films, museums, bars, cafes. Wine. What else I can say is that sometimes, we need to trust our instincts much earlier. For quite a while now, I've recognized that I'm not in the most ideal living situation. At first it was, "the kids are just testing me." Then it was, "the parents just don't realize they're asking unreasonable things." And finally it's, "I will never consider you an equal because you work for me." Et c'est charrie--that's going too far (really bad translation).

I can't be both a member of a family and an employee when treated like a child and a subordinate. I can't work for someone who treats me as an inferior and expects me to be OK with that, let alone live with that person. My job is to care for the kids, who will never behave for me if they know their parent looks down on me. Conflict management suggests that we also can't begin to solve this problem until I can communicate with this person as an equal. At first I thought it was just me adjusting. Then I thought it was about communicating better. But the true problem is not my fault--the family is not ready for an Au pair.

So I'm trying to find a family that is welcoming and professional. And perhaps find myself somewhere that is not the only remaining household in France that supports Sarkozy? Just a thought. I've considered becoming a bum on the street, selling crocheted hats and giving English lessons for 20 Euro an hour. But alas, winter is coming. And I still have some faith that this "cultural exchange" can work. I know many girls who are happy with the families they found.

I'm looking this time around for a family in Paris; I could easily teach English lessons to regular clients, I wouldn't have to ride the train for an hour on the weekend, and I could even go to the movies on weekday nights. I'm also looking for a family that will put me up in my own studio; I am just too old to have a curfew or be told when to clean my room, I feel like I haven't been spending any time to myself (or time writing), and it'd be nice not to feel like a couch-surfer in order to stay overnight in the city. Having my own space would also create some necessary boundaries when it comes to the hours that I'm expected to work.

The search is slow-going, but I'm trying to be uber positive. So here are a couple pictures of some things that haven't totally sucked. A familiar face, beautiful sights, and new friends.


Sarah and Meghan trying not to get lost near the Notre-Dame.


The carousel from Amelie at Montmartre with the Sacre-Coeur in the background.


A view of the Eiffel Tower near sunset from the Montmartre.


Meeting new friends and hanging on the River Seine.



Rain and maps. Yeah. That's very Paris.


Some Halloweenish activity.


Heck yeah, water lilies.


"Dude... those are cymbals! They're real! Can we throw things at them?"


The Eiffel Tower lit in bleu for its anniversary.


Sure they're bad, but I still kinda like them sometimes.

deux semaines

i guess it's been two weeks since i last posted anything. i think the initial shock and awe of being in france, and even the part where paris is breath-taking, has worn off. i find myself frustrated beyond reason at the tourists, even though i haven't even covered all the touristy places yet. i'm finding myself enjoying the process of learning french and not feeling as overwhelmed as before. and the kids are slowly, slowly, very slowly accepting the circumstances--and dare i say, growing and learning. however, i'm starting to recognize that ten months is no time at all, and i've let a fifth of that time go by without thinking very smartly about the next 8 months or about the future beyond that.

i came into this knowing how i want to grow. it's not my work ethic, it's not my finances, it's not my heart that i want to expand. i want to learn the language, face my fears, and explore new experiences. i know how to impress employers and improve relationships and impersonate the status-quo. i can solve problems and read people and actively press the system. i'm good with kids and good at providing what other people need, especially emotionally, but now i need to keep remarking on revelations that will move me forward. i don't want the same thing in a different country. i don't want attachments. i want...

something... "similar à feux d'artifice s'épanouit à travers les étoiles." i don't want delicate negotiations. i want bold and mighty forces and fearless exploration. i want moments with others as serene as the view alone. i want wild things and dreams and romance that has little to do with love and love that has everything to do with romance. i want really fulfilling fluff for one year...

gauche main...

This is what I do for my French homework after a long day:

Regarde! C'est Barack Obama! Il est le President de l'États-Unis. Son père habita à Kenya et il s'appelle Barack Obama I. Obama deuxiem est le premier President Africain-Americain. Son gauche main est dominant comme Florance. Barack Obama; vous etes très beau!

It was a good day. Woke up, got the little one ready for English school and dropped him off with only one "Go away!" tantrum, and took the big one to a second-hand market and the library. This was good because I basically got to spend 20 Euros of her mother's money on her--serious bonding. She and I had lunch together, and I sent her off with her ride to English school. Then I read 'The Gruffalo' to the little one twice while he was cuddly, and after he actually invited me into his "house"! This is a big deal. It also meant climbing a tree (his house). Sweet.

I did some writing in "Sherwood Forest" after I walked the middle one and his friend home while they played over the friend's house. (I know that last sentence is hard to follow, but it's not important where whose friend was when. Haha.) Writing a bit of fiction again felt good. I raced the middle one to the car, drove him to his sports, got my ATM card at the bank, and picked up the big one at English school. Then I buried a dead bulb with the little one, who thought it was an onion until I taught him better. He was disappointed it didn't grow as soon as he dumped some water on it. Thennnnn I helped the big one write, design, print, and cut out some Birthday invitations.

Next, I convinced the little one to let me help him out of his bath and put on his pajamas and was quizzed at dinner on my French numbers. I read some more to the little one while the middle one read 'Robin Hood' with his mother and the big one practiced her conjugations and multiplication tables with her father. Finally, I brainstormed for my French homework, and here I am having completed it! Ten at night, and I might just go to bed now...

Parler

French Conjugation of the day: Parler (To speak; present tense)!

je parle (I speak)
tu parles (You speak)
il/elle parle (He/She speaks)
nous parlons (We speak)
vous parlez (You [all] speak)
ils/elles parlent (They speak)

Rambouillet

Last Sunday I had an educational trip with the family to Rambouillet. Here are the basics (more pictures on Facebook).

This is le chateau (castle) at the Rambouillet Estate from the side of the French jardin (neat and orderly garden). Louis XVI loved this estate for the good hunting, bought it in 1783, and had la laiterie and a sheep farm built before the Revolution. There are canals and a long green behind the castle, along with a lake and many statues--two form the 19th century are, Brotherly Charity by Julien Edouard Conny and Death of Procris by Jean Escoula. The tour (tower), where Francois I (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Francois_I) died in 1547, is the only remaining part of the original castle, built in 1345.

Besides Louis XVI, Napoleon I and Francois I lived at Rambouillet. This castle is important because the current Presidents of France are allowed to use it for personal and diplomatic purposes. In 1975 the first G7 summit was held here, in 1996 Nelson Mandela visited (I'm trying to figure out which century-style furniture he chose for the l'appartement of the visiting chefs d'Etat (heads of state)), and in 1999 the Kosovo peace conference was held here.

Le laiterie de la Reine, is a dairy built for Queen Marie Antoinette because she was bored with the Rambouillet estate--Eloge de la nature (In praise of nature). This is a view of the marble rotunda where the Queen sampled her dairy products (only once or twice before being beheaded!). In the back, you can see the cooling room, where bowls of milk were kept cool in a spring of water. The statue is Jupiter and Amathea's goat. Marie Antoinette (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marie_Antoinette) liked to pretend to be a farmer and controversially changed many fashions during the Enlightenment.

On the estate was also an English garden. The English garden was in the style of a more natural landscape, exotic trees strewn about and rivers crossed by bridges. The English-style garden separated the le chateau, its French jardin, the canals, and the green carpet from la laiteria, the ferme (farm), and the bergerie nationale (national sheep farm). We were told that vast channels of underground tunnels were dug all over the estate so that the servants could travel without being seen and the Queen could stay out of the rain. There were also hidden servant entrances to all the buildings on the estate.

In the English garden, there is a shell cottage, rustic on the outside and covered wall to wall (and ceiling!) in fancy sea and fresh water shells on the inside. It only took 6-8 months to complete--http://drupal02.nypl.org/files/62/shell_cottage.jpg--crazy! It was built in 1779 by Claude-Martin Goupy before Louis XVI bought the estate and is still in perfect condition. I really liked the farm and surrounding area. I couldn't imagine anyone disliking having to live there. Sarkozy has apparently not visited yet. I hope Obama is invited this year.

The pigeon house at the farm.

Dix Jours!

It's been ten days since my last post. Wowza. And not for lack of material. I think things have turned around here for the better. Instead of hugely annoying things happening every day to delay the process so often called "settling in", subtly better things have been happening every other day.

It all started last Wednesday when a man left his mail on the roof of his car and drove off. I was behind him, watching papers fly. The childrens and I decided that following him was smarter than stopping to pick up the papers. He wouldn't know where he lost them even if I collected them and handed them into a nearby business. The oldest one immediately concluded they were his passport papers. We literally had a bit of a car chase, caught him at a light two miles down the street, told him where he'd lost them, then circled around to make sure he found them. Ok, so not magical or anything, but it felt sorta like something that could only happen in France. And chasing him in the car was honestly thrilling.

Either that day or the next, I got my Swiss passport in the mail. I mean. Come on! Talk about exciting. And this thing is tricked o-u-t! I can't wait to use it, and I have a vacation coming up at the end of October. The sister, Sarah, and I are gonna figure out where to go. Switzerland maybe? Belgium? What's good in October?

Last Friday, I spent an hour or so in St Germain en Laye, and I checked out the chateau, the gardens, and the sweet view of Paris from the hillside. The sun did that thing where it rays from inside the clouds. The perfect fall day, spoiling my eyes with beauty. I also got my mobile that day. I also made a friend last week.

Saturday, I went to a techno parade through the streets of Paris. This is more or less how I described it to Daina earlier (I don't feel like typing these days):

"oh daina. i wish you could have been there... it was like.... the maddest people on earth. those you want to make fun of. those you want to hug. those you just know didn't come on purpose but dig it anyway... and the other day i realized something. techno is the new disco!
Daina: what is a techno parade exactly

me: k. think... dave yarus gets ten ice cream trucks the size of 18-wheelers....
and every person in the paris area between the ages of 15 and 25, and 20% of everyone else too ,on the perfect sunny day. and we all march, er rather, rave from a campus-y area of paris to the bastille, drinking in public, smoking in public, wearing absolutely anything, following these trucks that are blaring techno music, each sponsored by a different company or radio station... with people dancing on them and old important men in suits dancing on them, and people dressed as pimps dancing on them, and of course. DJ's

oh!
and then these idiots on the column at the bastille started throwing glass bottles into the crowd below! it was like some crazy horror movie until we figured out what was goin on and the gendarme or whatever came with their helmets and those shield thingies. imagine panic opening up on the other side of the column.... people running in drones away from that side in your direction, and it turns out to be because someone without a cause is drunk and throwing glass bottles

oh. and some woman during the parade was knocked down and started gushing blood from her head and i gave this dredded (dreds) boy my water to help her.
i have to admit to being nauseous."

also, i was hit on by a hippie backpacker, a Tunisian guy who spoke no English helped me skip an RER meter to get on the right train (I feel bad for not giving him my mobile number), and some guy let me on his meat truck , which was actually really gross (and not metaphorical at all). After a full day of mad people, dancing, and wine, my head was about to explode, but I met another really cool au pair who'd like to find an NGO in Africa to work with over the summer. Sounds like a plan. Techno Parades: great one-time experiences. Emphasis on ONE-TIME.

Gah. I just can't keep blogging. I'll try to do one about my educational Sunday trip to the President's castle and about this week... maybe tomorrow.

lundi, lundi, lundi

Today was a Monday if there ever was one. It was my first day of French class, and it felt like the first day of school all over again. OK, not really. Just slightly. I'm proud of myself for bringing a journal and a pen... and taking a shower. In Europe, you can wear clothes two days in a row, and blowing water every day on a shower just feels selfish. And the washing machines are small. Now, I know it's not bathing in salt water, suffering through cold showers, or washing from a bucket, but it feels nice to be in a place where the standards are different.

Class went well. There are two other au pairs in the group and six wives of ex-pats (though one was absent). No men. My teacher's name is Florence. It was a very easy first day, but there are a few other women who seem like they'll help push the pace along. Countries represented: Canada, USA, Holland, Finland, Scotland, Ireland, The UK, and Turkey ought to be there Thursday. I'm trying to remind myself that learning French is my most major goal for the year. I feel guilty whenever I use English.

I was going to have a picnic in the town center, but I sort of let all the air out of the bike tire and couldn't get the air pump to work. This was frustrating because I've used an air pump plenty of times before--I blame it on this little strange piece of metal that sticks out of the nob-hole on the tire. My bike at home does not have this.I couldn't find French music videos today, but Friends was on in French, so I watched some of that while I ate my "picnic". I didn't want to risk being late to get the kids, so I'll save the trip into town for a day when I don't spend an hour fussing around with the bike tire.

The kids were tres, tres mal today. Tres. The little one wanted his mother after school and screamed all the way home. The two others were good for about 30 minutes--then homework started. From 5:30 to 7:45, they did their homework, complaining all the way. Did they have 2 hours-worth of homework? Nuh uh. I started dinner late, burned it slightly, and barely had any of my own before heading out the door for my danse class, late. Danse class, you ask? OUI!

This, I fully enjoyed. I couldn't understand a word that was said, but I followed along well-enough. The music was good, the teacher was friendly and helpful, and the other girls were giggly and thankfully not super professional or anything. What I'll lack in technique since I haven't taken a class in a while, I'll make up for in style and attitude. Some girls had none. The steps loosened me up, weren't too difficult to catch, and were easy to funk up a little bit. Of course, I might feel differently tomorrow when I find out which muscles I've pulled.

But oh, how I missed structured dance classes! It will be worth being broke. Haha, get it? Broke. Monetarily or otherwise. Gee, that was a Monday-rated joke, eh? Those kids better be good tomorrow. Or I'll have to get my Tuesday on them. Mondays are somehow both fresh and lame, but Tuesdays are for the blues. I don't know. I'm making stuff up now. I need to read a French lullaby and go to bed. Bon-nuit!

Une Bon Jour

Today was a good day. I woke up and looked over at the clock on my nightstand. One o'clock? As I love sleeping til all hours of the afternoon, I figured this was very possible. Then I realized I had missed the boat on going to church with the family like I said I would. I forgot to set the alarm. Then a small child knocked on my door and asked me if I'd like to attend the English-speaking church with them. "Hmmm. What time are we going?" "I do-en't know." "Yeah, sure. I'll just get ready."

Turns out, it was ten in the morning--my clock was wrong. I attended church but didn't sing or take commune. I'm pretty sure that the people in attendance at this church had the best singing voices in all of France. I sat next to this cool old dude with an awesome low voice and a lady with a really nice high voice who actually knew how all the hymns went. The church was right near a castle that had sold its grounds for incredible houses to be built in their place. I think that's where the Real World house was. Probably not.

I won't get into how I feel about religion, but I'm proud that I'm at a place now where I'm comfortable going to a church service. I get some good thinking done, and of course the singing is just plain therapeutic. I share something with the family and meet a community of people. I'm pretty sure I also get some good karma points for going.

Then we had lunch, I did some reading on Vegetarianism, I played with children, and then I drove over to St. Nom for the annual um... yard sale. The main street in the center of town was completely blocked off from one end to the other with tables of people's old French stuff. St. Nom has a reputation of affluence (the town refuses to build low-income housing like they're supposed to), so people come from all over to buy and sell old stuff. There were traveling creperies and a merry-go-round. Books, shoes, purses, type-writers, records, cups, pens, furniture, trinkets, doo-dads, buttons, an old hand grenade, jewelery, hand-made journals, etc. etc. etc.

I don't think there could ever be any single better way to get an idea of the inside lives of French people than to walk around this fair for a few hours. I spent a euro total on five French books (was told by my French father that I "should have bargained!") from this young couple who likely just got out of university, wanting to get rid of the memory of Kant, and luckily spoke wonderful English. I now wish I had asked them to be my friends.

But anyway, I came back and had tea, did some more playing, worked on some French-learnin, had black olive, artichoke, tuna, and red pepper pizza for dinner, read the children their night-time stories, finally got in a much-needed conversation with Krista, and headed upstairs for bed. I think I'll read my tarot cards, try to read a story called "pour tous les soirs" (for every night), and go to bed. I am so excited--my French classes start tomorrow morning! Bon-nuit!!

A few pictures

2010 is going to be the best year ever

Last night I had another confusing dream. Not a bad one or a nightmare, but it was wild. I didn't like it. Tonight, I think I'll go to bed early--I've been up long enough.

This afternoon, someone hit the back corner of my car while it was parked on the side of the road. Now, I know that my horoscope for the year only included three "decent" months and no really good ones, but at this point I'm thinking that next year owes me big time. I can't seem to recall any major karmic disaster I've committed recently. I'm trying to enjoy this phenomenal place, ok? I think I'm being a good sport about it all, and I want this blog to be a positive thing--however, the inspiration and beauty can only flow from a muse, my words aren't as wonderful when they stem from woes.

I know I can't just sit here, waiting, waiting, waiting for the adjustment period to pass, for happy things to start settling in, for the delays in quiet fulfillment to subside. Everything that happens TO me won't always seem like an interruption of this blissful love affair I'm trying to have with the Île-de-France (or the Région Parisienne). Maybe the problem is I don't feel bad enough--that I should feel kicked to the curb instead of just irked and annoyed. Is that why I took that acting class? To start acting sad enough that people take pity on me? ew! Kerouac's journey is taking a mad zooming turn for the better in the book I'm working on--I think I'll just keep reading.

You know what. I've kept most of this week's upsets to myself; that is, I haven't told the family. I'm always so afraid of complaining too much that I don't think I share the right worries or confessions with the right people. That's how I'll be proactive--I will open myself a bit more to the people who've opened their house to me. Without acting. Without expectations. Keeping it in doesn't make me stronger around here. I feel good about this decision. Bonnuit.

worstmare

so my nightmare. there was a serial rapist/murderer loose in the babson area. and bodies were buried everywhere, so the grass panels had to be taken up in rows in order to see the skulls sticking up. it wasn't safe to sleep anywhere and it turned into mass chaos, people switching rooms daily to throw the rapist off the scent. i don't know why they didn't close the school. there were numerous deaths every night. this went on for most of the dream. the worst feeling of loss and terror. so it turned out that the girls in sigma kappa were helping to let the killer into dorms in the night. and those brats (no offense, i'm just jealous of this next part) had a ballroom-sized room for fabulous shoes! k. that was the worst part.

so i'm in bryant, and the killer is let in by the sorority girls, and it turns out to be these two guys from my acting class. one of whom played the part of a psychotic homicidal/suicidal maniac in his final scene for class. and because i don't think they were the bad guys, they convince me to run away from the "killer" with them through the maze-like dorm. and i hide in a closet and then they evilly turn on me. and i don't remember but probably i end up killing them because that's always what happens in my bad dreams. i kill people. and the moral of the story is that babson feels traumatized at the end of the dream and will never be the same... even though at one point, i'm pretty sure i was ducking under some lacy throw pillows while a parade was going on outside the white-wood, thin-framed, ceiling-high windows.

normally when i have a bad dream, it's not actually a nightmare. my nightmares (usually when chasing and knives are involved) are actually kinda humorous, or at least not convincing. but the tone of this one was daunting. they can happen at any time and i usually don't know where they come from. they're more curious than worrisome. and my bad dreams usually consist of me killing people and strange, strange oddities. these, i've recently been all too aware of their patterns of occurrence. i think this was the first time, in as long as i've defined nightmares this way, since i had a bad dream and a nightmare in one. i did not like it. i was actually scared. not cool.

la vie est étrange

i have the word sourire written on my hand right now. it means smile. i'm finding that i have to remind myself to be healthy, more so to think healthy. i feel great in france, alive, unafraid--it hasn't been two weeks and i feel i've championed the paris metro. and after five years of boston, i couldn't tell you where i am at any given time. everything i see is serenity screaming to be put on film--angels in angles and flower pots against the sky. reason enough to smile, right?

i had the world's easiest Dr's appointment today. cheap, too. i've always had good blood pressure--i am an accomplished meditator. i let passion take me on rants when i need to, and i'm able to hold my tongue if i haven't been into the wine. and when my mind's confused, i write. but first i get the round-table opinions from the court, my circle of friends. these days, that circle is geographically gigantic. on my mind at present is how closed that ring just might be.

i'm not in the mood for tough and dramatic means of letting people into my life. living in the green tower at babson was easy--boys are easy friends. coming back to bristol was easy--i knew exactly who i trust with my heart and everyone else, well i'd just be leaving. but here, i feel, is a constant audition that works both ways. little things mean so much more when you're not yet sure what the rules are. while big deals and big distances mean less and less worry with those you love.

this current circumference means getting slow feedback, so i'm either going to have to add some points on the curve closer to paris or start deciding for myself how i feel about things and how to act. considering my hesitation to force friendships here, maybe i'll go with my instincts to enjoy france within my lonesome self. i'm enough company for myself when i'm surrounded in familiarity--this shouldn't be so difficult.

this is why writing helps me--it allows me to hear how ridiculous it sounds to ponder and opine such indeterminable circumstances. all i can do is smile at myself and remember to capture lovely moments and memories on paper, on film, on the palm of my hand--my étrange heart.

Francais

Since I've last written, not too much has happened--I've spent a few days with two of the kids while the middle child was at his Grandparents'. We've done more driving so I know where things are around town, we've done lots of playing, we've done some crying (well not me... yet), we've been for a walk, we've made some button bracelets, and we've been getting ready for the beginning of the school year. I've been introduced to true Bollywood (Slumdog Millionaire is NOT appreciated by Bollywood standards), Lazy Town (a "very" British kids show, I'd say a mix between Sesame Street and Clone High with Jim Carey thrown in there), and Mr. Bean (which I have to admit is much funnier than the previews for the movies give it credit). Oh, and I played some Wii the other day with real French teenagers.

It took the two older kids a grand total of three days before they threw the L word at me, and it took the little one four days. He runs hot and cold but is super sweet and cuddly when he feels like being friendly. I'm pretty sure the oldest said it because she wants me 'on her side'--she seems to think I'm not here to look after/play with the others, just her. She has some wonderful qualities as well, of course. She's crafty, artistic, and smart; she patiently cares to explain things to me and to take care of her brothers. I think the tensions are higher with school just around the corner, but I think I'm going to be grateful that she's as old and mature as she is--I have someone to share interests with, to gossip about the boys in her class, and to teach the lessons of life. The middle child wears his heart on his sleeve and is utterly embarrassed by the fact. We click without having to say much. Mostly, I don't think he understands a word I say. I have to keep reminding myself not to laugh with him while he torments his siblings.

At the dinner table I was quizzed a bit on my French, and now that the little one is in the habit of speaking more English on his own, I think this will be a regular activity. I didn't do very well. At this rate, I'll be able to read French without being able to speak any of it! I can't wait for classes to start, but to be honest, I doubt any teacher will be better than the youngest in the family. I don't have to be afraid of sounding like an idiot around him, he makes me repeat myself until I get it right, he clearly exibits his frustrations with me, and he grabs my face and pulls my mouth in the right shape if I don't get it right after a while. But he never gets mad--he just thinks I'm funny. I also go over conjugations with the oldest and try to listen intently when people are conversing in French, which feels strangely intrusive.

Our schedule is coming together now, slowly. I won't have to wake up early except for on Thursdays and whenever my French classes are. Saturday we're going to check out what other activities are available--I think I want to take a weekly dance class. Fridays I think I'll have off. In my free time, I've been watching How I Met Your Mother, translating my book on Paris, and reading Kerouac. I have lots of coffee dates to set up with other au pairs. Did I mention how the center of town is the MOST ADORABLE neighborhood I have ever seen in my life?! I can't wait to have an afternoon's walk into town to take some pictures. I'll be going to the Swiss Embassy on Tuesday morning, so I think I'll probably just make one trip to Paris this weekend--Sunday, I think, to try to visit the Louvre for free. Still super excited to be here--just getting down to business a bit more now. And I might pick up a British accent...

Paris!

OK. I have no idea how I'm going to keep this short! I went into Paris today with my new friend, Yosune. She's from Madrid and is a friend of a friend of my family's. She's going to school for a semester in Paris so had some errands to run before classes start--ya know, it'd be good if she has a place to live. We drove to the train station and took one into the 8th, I think. Yosune headed up to the 17th, where her University is, and I found a Starbucks because it was early.

I walked down Malesherbes, then found the Parc Monceau to sit and drink my coffee and read some Kerouac. After a few chapters, I found a lovely toilet. Then I walked pretty haphazardly and found myself near the Arc de Triomphe. I sat in awe for a bit, ate a sndwich I had packed for lunch, walked under the Arc, decided not to wait in line for a ticket or get caught up figuring out what the ticket was good for, and came out on the other side on Champs Elysees. I bought a post card and walked past many fancy shopping stores to FDR near some palaces or whatever, which I need to go back and explore.

I met up with Yosune again, and we took the metro up to the 19th, I think, where her French classes will be. We got lost but eventually found her academy, and she made sure her registration was all settled while I read an article in French about Darfur. Next, we took the metro to the Latin district in the 5th, I think, where Yosune will most likely be living for the next four months. I really liked this area--I'm not sure why. There was something in the air.

Then we walked way too much more towards the Notre-Dame to meet Amay (a fellow au pair who knows my family) and her friend, Nicole, from Germany (another au pair). On the way, I saw the Mosque that I think was in Paris Je T'aime, and I saw the column at the Place de la Bastille peaking up across the Seine, which was in Les Chansons D'amour. When we caught up with Amay and Nicole, we tried to find the Jewish district but ended up at an enclosed garden. Yosune and I sat at a fountain while Nicole and Amay tried to watch a street fashion show that happened to be going on soon after we got there. Then, it was time to find Ashley.

We walked through the old Palace, where I could see into part of the Louvre, and I had a moment. When we walked out to the court where the pyramid is, the lighting was so ridiculous in the late evening that I took too many pictures. This is where everything in Paris lines up, and after spending a few minutes there in symmetrical sunsetting splendor, I was ready for the Tower! Another au pair (who used to work where Amay does now) named Ashley joined us, we found a market, bought some wine, and I was sung to by a rather toothless bum. He was cool.

A group of au pairs, and friends of friends and the like, met under the Eiffel Tower at 8. Well, some met at 5ish and started drinking, and we got there closer to 9. I met some crazy and interesting folks, who I'm sure I'll have to find on the facebook. I wasn't too excited about seeing the tower, but it was just so bizarre to be sitting under the Eiffel Tower! Right? It's pretty cool--the tower and I may grow to love each other even more. Overall, I was swept away by Paris. Part of the city felt like NYC but... happy. I have to work on putting this into words. All I can say is that I really, really loved it. Gosh, it was such a perfect day!

Yosune and I drank a nice bottle of red wine while chatting with the group and then stumbled somehow back to the train towards my family's house. I like the metro in Paris--maybe it was because I had Yosune to help out, but I found it easier to get around Paris than Boston. It's just bigger and greener with more statues and stuff. I used a weekend day pass, so I swiped it at each metro and at the train to the suburbs and would have on the bus if we took a bus. I can't believe I visited so many arrondissements in one day! I'm glad I did--I have a pretty good concept now of where things are and how to get around. I will definitely be spending plenty of weekend time in Paris!

Why am I still awake?! Bonnuit!

premier jour...

I slept in today until about 11, played with the kids, had corn and beets, eggs (everyone else had sausage) and chips, and cinnamon in yogurt for lunch. Then we put together a 3d puzzle of the globe before my driving excursions. Three things I almost forgot about driving standard: emergency brake up!, neutral when at a stop light, and give it lots of gas up a hill. I took mt french mother and the kids around town; we drove past their English classes and Doctor's office in the next town over, we stopped at the train station, and then we drove to the mall so my french mother could pick something up at the FNAC (like FYI). I'm too slow for the people around here because I'm afraid random roads out of nowhere have the right of way. The other rules of the road are basically the same. The car is a green Puegoet.

One weekend in September, there is free entrance to some places in Paris and around France that you normally can't get into. In two weeks, I'll use a week day to visit the Swiss Embassy and apply for a passport. I need to remember to buy a calendar and a cheap watch. I'm also in the market for a mobile and plan, just for emergencies and letting my french parents know if I go somewhere or need something.

So I was wrong about the pay. It's less than I though, but they put gas in my car, they pay for my French classes, and they are paying for my health care. They are buying me ten metro passes and ten train(?) passes for weekends each trimester--more or less depending on how many I use. International calls from the land-line are free and all other calls within France, except French cell phones. So my student loans, and if I get a mobile, are my only expenses.

The kids: The youngest boy is going through a "difficult" phase. He's trouble, but he's probably the goofiest kid I've ever met. When we get used to each other, he's going to have a hard time saying goodbye. He's already put on his grandmother's shoes, eyed the fashion mannequins in the mall, and pushed around a pink disney princess stroller. He needs to start speaking English at home or he won't be able to get into classes. The other boy is definitely the middle child. He's mostly independent but can also put on a show and push limits. He's a climbin', jumpin', gun-shootin', ball-playin' kind of a boy. He's funny and he knows it, and he walks with a swagger like the Incredible Hulk sometimes. He mostly get ignored. The girl likes glitter and butterflies and seashells and giving me presents. She likes jewelry, bossing around and scolding the 3-year-old, and controlling everything that's going on. She likes my purse. All the kids are really into Bollywood, so I'm gonna teach them some moves that my Babson friends taught me.

Heading into Paris tomorrow--I've already met another au pair and a girl who will be at University in Paris this year. Being introduced to a whole group of au pairs under the Eiffel Tower tomorrow evening. Not too worried about making friends.

Mon Arrivée

Don't want to say much right now because I am dead tired. I guess what they say about jet lag is true--also, airport seating is not ideal for sleeping on an overnight flight. Some highlights:

Taking off from JFK at night after the anticipation of the day (and past few months) was probably the most thrilling experience of my life since November 4th, 2008. Iced coffee, packing chaos, iced coffee, driving to Bridgeport, vanning to JFK, and waiting in three different lines 2 hours each (followed by my third iced coffee of the day)... actually may have had very little to do with the disarming glee I felt rising with the plane wings over the NYC grid lights. This made it real.

For the many hours of sleeping I didn't do, I was woken up a lot. Once when I was yet again shaken from slumber at arm's reach, I looked out the window-seat window and was in heaven. White puffy clouds. God hangin' out. Zeus. Whatever you'd like. That was the sky. The sun rising on my first day in Europe.

Dublin. It was green. No time for kitty stickers at the airport in Dublin, but damn was it gorgeous flying down into the world of present-day celtic bull battles on fields of green. Almost straight onto my next flight after immigration, I didn't get a window seat flying into Paris. Whatever. CDG is so far from anything, anyway. Leaves something to look forward to on my way back into Paris after my excursions throughout Europe. I slept another half hour, sitting up in my seat.

My family! I pretty much met them one by one, and it was strange at first. Kids think having an older sister would be fantastic... and then they realize some stranger will be living in their house. I put my belongings in their new homes, stuck out the jet lag, had tea and scones, met three grandparents, went for a walk, played an inventive ball game with the kids, shared dinner, cheeses and desert with the family, read to 2/3 the kids, and chatted with the rents for a bit. I'll blog next about the kids individually, but so far we are definitely getting along.

My room is on the third (last) floor. My bed is against a slanted wall, but I don't feel that I'll be hitting my head or anything. I have a skylight that opens up and looks out onto some distant fields and the most adorable neighborhood you've ever seen (Natick, eat your heart out), and I saw a train pass by a few streets away. I might live out on the roof. I have a standing shower in my bathroom, and since my bathroom might be larger than my bedroom I've dubbed it my walk-in closet.

Ah, ok. That's as much as I can write without feeling too guilty about being on here instead of sleeping. Speaking of guilt, I'm comparing my blog with Daina's and Billy's and Sarah's and trying not to feel inadequate. This year is for inspiration, expansion and responsibility. There are many years to come, and this year is a necessary step for me. Besides, you are so jealous of my skylight. I'll try to keep it wildly entertaining and seething with philosophical goodies, regardless of feeling wrapped in gilt. Opps, fell asleep there for a minute at the screen. Night!

Email I want to share...

Hiya!

Last night I walked right into a trap! I was planning on visiting the Babson-related folk for dinner--Dave, Nicole, Andre, Amanda. I was trying so hard to figure out why Amanda was being difficult; "Robin, you have to come meet me in Waltham first, then we'll go back to Babson."
"But Amanda, Babson is on my way! I should pick up Andre and Nicole there and then head that way. Wah, wah, wah!"


Amanda finally meets me at Babson (after an hour of trying to track down Andre somewhere between Woodland Hills and Hollister) and she's all, "Don't worry about Andre, let's go visit our freshman dorm! Oh hey, look! I guess there's something going on in the pub; let's go say hi to Dougie."
"Amanda, no. There's some event in there or something--I thought we were going to North."
Amanda walks into pub aaaaaaaand...


Barack Obama is standing there!!!!
He is a card-board cut-out, but just the same...
Dave, Nicole, Tiffany, Pat and his girlfriend Liz are there with blue, white, and red balloons! Deets and Hanno and Andre and some straggling summer resident students show up, too. We have cake. We dance. I almost cry.
It was pretty stellar.


Still, I couldn't sleep last night, thinking about all the things I have to do before I leave and what might happen when I get there. Insurance, cell phone, bank account; learn French, win over family, don't make eye contact in the train stations. I try to keep telling myself that it's just Europe; I'll be with a nice safe family; if all else fails, I'll just do a lot of reading and writing; I won't get turned away from the country. Clearly, I am leaving such wonderful loves! Somehow, that's even more of a reason to go.


Anxiety is temporary. Exploration is worthy. Le voyage est bon!
My life is blessed--Ma vie est beni.
I think this will become my new blog post...

Be well.
Do good.
Have love.

Robin

The Language

I’m finding it difficult to convince myself that I can learn French. I can mostly pick up on what I hear, but I think because I’m so used to being a “writer”, I’ve forgotten how to regurgitate or replicate exactly what I just heard. I’m gonna have to figure out how to make this work and be less picky about my diction. Haha. Believe it or not, it turns out I know more Spanish from high school than I realized—I try to speak more French in my everyday life and Spanish comes out! Maybe no one will notice if all I do is read and listen. Maybe I’ll just be a happy little quiet girl in France…

un rêve fou!

Breaking my one paragraph rule on this one and so not keeping the title like the others. I had a very strange dream, a crazy one as my title says. On my first day of work as an au pair, I let the baby injest toxins. Normally, this would be rather unsettling to wake up to, but there are so many reasons why I know nothing like this will happen in real life.

First of all, the family assured me that on my first day as an au pair, I’d be sleeping off jet lag. They also don’t have any infants—certainly none that can fit in the palm of my hand. The reason this happened in the dream was because I left the house to go to a winery… where I ran into my French parents! I left the kids with my Grammie (who will not be accompanying me to France) in the garden, by the lake with the really cool-ass frogs, without telling her the baby was in the greenhouse. No, this would not really happen. I don’t even think the family has cool lake frogs.

I came back, and the babe had googly eyes and had a bunch of blue stuff in his mouth. I gave him the heimlich. The dream doesn’t really tell me his fate, but instead of being fired, I napped on a really uncomfortable sofa pad with his mother. It was green. I guess I’m a little wigged still, yet I can’t help but think the dream has more to do with having recently watched Mermaids and The Bicycle Thief than anxiety over keeping childrens alive.

Je pars pour Paris... huit

I will have weekends off, so I plan on spending a good percentage of my Euros on travel—into the city and to a few places of interest. I need to smell the air in Switzerland. I think I’d like to try to visit the south of Spain around our Halloween time. I need to try real Belgian beer. My sister’s boyfriend is in Germany, so maybe there for “thanksgiving.” And my friend, CJ, is in Bulgaria, and I’m gonna make him host me. I have a layover in Dublin, but it barely counts compared to how much of Ireland I’d like to enjoy—so many people have contacts in Ireland, I feel like I’ll be there multiple times. A friend will be an au pair in Sweden, too. And there you have the short list. Anywhere I miss during the year, I’ll get to next summer…

Je pars pour Paris... sept

So! France. One of the smaller steps for this woman, kind. I will be an au pair for three children outside of Versailles, which is very close to Paris. The family is British/French, and we’ve spoken a few times on the phone. They have a girl and two boys, ages 3, 6, and 8. I will be with the family for 10 months and as of next summer, backpacking around the places in Europe I couldn’t get to throughout the school year…

Je pars pour Paris... six

I’m not a doctor or lawyer or financial expert. Not that anyone has the right to call his or her self a financial expert these days. Yesterday, a friend reminded me that it isn’t good to live above our means. Simply stated, we should make more than we take. But how do we insure that our lives are producing something of substance? So much of our daily routines—facebook and twitter and youtube—are about constant creation, but there’s a certain threshold where creation takes a backseat to narcissism or insecurity and constant reinforcement. Without sacrificing security for plans of future moral neutrality (and an eventually positive balance of Goodness), I need to start understanding that growing up means growing slowly, accruing knowledge and competencies and putting in the hard work that goes along with helping people. Yes, the goal is to learn about (and dare I say help) the places in this world that are worst-off, but I want to take the right steps, and I need to come to terms with my lack of experience…

Je pars pour Paris... cinq

France. I applied for a Fulbright Scholarship this past fall, and I probably could have been more realistic about the program that they’d accept. I’ll have a better shot if I apply again having learned French with a less ambitious destination than Rwanda. I have this personal policy about the right amount of action—act too fast, and you’re likely doing more harm than good. The turtle and the hair, I suppose—or as Goofy would say, “slow and steady, steady and slow”. I had little interest in France until I started watching French movies and started digging the idea of an entire culture almost… buying into the idea of happenstance. Why not? It makes things so much more beautiful, and less complicated to be honest. It’ll be a good experience to follow Babson—it will make for a good balance.

and a little bonus… http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XBW-UEbOfyQ&feature=quicklist

Je pars pour Paris... quatre

Europe. I applied to jobs by sending my profile to families in Spain, France, and Switzerland. I kept an eye out for other places, but it was easiest to focus on three, like the agency asked. Spain, because Daina insisted. The language would be easier to pick up since I studied it in school. France, because of my new-found curiosity in French culture. Learning French would also help me out with the list of countries I’d like to visit in the future. And Switzerland, because I still have family there. Europe, because I’ll appreciate it, I’ll learn independence without too much culture shock, and I’ll convince my parents slowly to let me go to other continents. Gardens. Museums. Mad liberals. Revolutions. The concept of ancient civilizations and building them up and down and around and new ones up again. And I’m so glad I’m not too young to understand it and not too old to feel the true depth of the grooove and what it means for the future…

Je pars pour Paris... trois

Ok, I’ve been to Canada, and not to downplay the country, I want to go somewhere further away, in distance and difference. I feel like if I don’t get out of this country now, I never will. Besides, California is broke right now. I decided to look for Au Pair jobs through an agency online; this is one of the first questions I get. There are a bunch of agencies like this on the internets. I made a profile, I have lots of childcare experience and references, and I sent my information to families after viewing their own profiles. Deciding on being an au pair accomplished a few things: I’d go to Europe, I’d stay out of the “business” world, I’d have minimal expenses and be paid regularly…

Je pars pour Paris... deux

I think about it as a step—the next place I’ll hang my hat—a move up, carrying with me all that I’ve achieved to date. A diploma from Babson, too many friends to count or name (<3), a unique home-life experience from where I draw my clarity and creativity. I’m not running away from anything—this is the first time in my life where I feel like the next choice is mine, all mine, and could be absolutely anything! I know I want to avoid business (for now), and I know I want to see the world (preferably as much of it as possible). I want to be a student who doesn’t have to get so attached, so political, so involved, spread so thin. I want to live learning! I want to do Good. And I want to write, write, write, write. But I’ve barely been outside the U.S…

Je pars pour Paris

So far, [my Tumblr] blog has been about… well, nothing, but as I have about 26 days before departure, I figure it’s time to start writing about what I got a blog to write about. Hehe. I haven’t made any official declaration about my move, not many details to speak of; instead, I’ve been doing my best to inform my friends one-on-one about the next step in my life. Now, I’ve run out of time to procrastinate, so here it is… Ladies and Gentlemen, I move to France at the end of August! In my series, entitled Je pars pour Paris, I’ll be giving you my thoughts in one paragraph or less. Easy, right? There will also be the occasional thought that's lengthier, but I'll try and keep a good pace of any posts.

I changed my mind

I think I'll post just about France on this blog. Tumblr has taken on a life of its own.

I'll keep the links to my Tumblr posts, but you can ignore those if you don't have the time.

First (and only) real post

Why, hello there!
What's up, spot of the blog?
I'm hoping to feed you with posts from elsewhere and never have to type to you again.
How does that sound?
Excellent.