The regular flights and evenings of Dr. Suess followed by late-night Parisian adventures have come to an end, and the big weekend family breakfasts and small-town church services filled with weekly hugs from the congregation recommence. The travels have come to a pause, and the suitcases are now empty. The children have gotten bigger and louder, the cars and houses have been upgraded or modified, and the trees have grown taller than last summer. However, the people have mostly stayed the same -- except for me.
I now speak with a lighter accent and find myself with a greater abundance of patience than before. I see little boys with trucks and cars on their t-shirts and have to smile. I listen to the geeky guys who tell me stories and can actually appreciate them. The rare intellectuals and travelers who I come across find me fascinating and "so accomplished for such a young American." I can even keep up with them in conversations about the world economy and participate in their debates over the controversy between Isreal and Palestine. Sitting in a cafe a few towns over with Angela, before she left, I was approached by their local French Club president and asked to join.
The life I lived in New Hampshire prior to my trip to France was full of hard work and complicated social situations, accompanied by the boredom of living in the middle of nowhere. The world I entered when the front door of the Bouyoux home opened for me was, indeed, an entirely different world. The work was far from the farm, and the people around me knew the difference between two different types of cheese or red wine without so much as a glance at the label. I doubt they know how to weed a garden or bleach a mildew stain, but then again, why would they need to know when they have "people" for that?
I was not one of them, but one of such "people" who worked for them and handled the situations that were simply too inconvenient for a bourgois to take care of on their own. Still, I lived in their house, and saw first-hand what it would be like to drive home in a new Mercedes and announce to everyone that the vacation home in Corsica has officially been bought. "We've decided to go to Rome," was an amusing sentence to casually hear tossed into the evening.
Here and now, back in this world, I spent a night with old friends driving around back roads on a four-wheeler and eight hours of my day on a farm occupying myself with produce plants, turning myself green on the skin of my hands. I put gas in my dad's car when I used it, and finally bought a new wallet before heading out to the movies. It's all mundane in the eyes of any ordinary stranger, and many would even deem it as a mediocre way of life. For me, however, the stress-free aspect of caring for a plant that cannot talk back or get angry is refreshing, and the people of small-town living know how to enjoy their lives better than most of the wealthy people whom I have encountered.
Still, the memories of my year in travels and moments of bliss replay in my mind, allowing me to miss them in my nostalgia as they burn their way into my brain for ever. I can remember how it felt to have Etienne reach out for my hand and smile at me the first time, and when we spent an entire afternoon making paper airplanes and putting stickers on my face. He was so cute when he showed me how he had put his shoes on all by himself, but they were on the wrong feet! Minutes quickly transformed into hours of make-believe and great white sharks swimming in between the furniture...
Then there was Marie, always there to be tough or gentle and pass a great conversation with over so many cups of coffee. Angela always looked so cute and had something to say to me. The au pairs from my school were there to meet up at a bar or hang out at Trocadero and even go to Amsterdam and discover the combination of sins and beauties of the city with me. I bought jewelry made of camel bones and pet a cheetah in a wine estate during my visit to South Africa with Ali in her dorm room. Amel quickly became the girl I could talk to for hours and share stories and create adventures together, like discovering Rome, standing in fountains, and singing sober on the sidewalks.
Then, there's the boy who I can't get out of my mind, who held my hand when I taught him how to ice skate and cried with me at the airport for my flight home. He shared with me many afternoons of art and culture, and always helped me find a good place to stop for ice cream. He's an intellectual who enjoyed explaining world history and international affairs to me, but who could also make me laugh and give great hugs, the ones that hold on tight so that I never wanted to let go.
Marko traveled with his dad and thought to bring me back souvenirs in the form of glass shoes. When I dropped them and shattered one of the liquor-filled Cinderella slippers, he told me he loved me, and it was real. I remember the repeating thought of desire to kiss him after we spent the whole day looking at art, after we had booked our flight to Barcelona together when I had been hours late without any power in my cell phone and he never lost patience with me, and after his school's concert in the Sorbonne when we hugged and started to say good-night several times until we finally realized we both wanted it. We spent hours together on the Champs Elysses just looking at each other and kissing under, on, and around the Arc de Triomphe. I hadn't enjoyed kissing like that since I was fourteen.
When the time came to pack our bags and fly to Spain together, he was calm and collected through the whole process, leading me around subways and the airport, always incredibly prepared. I think he must run a checklist in his head of items to prepare and check regularly. His patience never ran out, and he never complained about waiting for me or having to stop for me to get something I forgot or needed. Not once. He's the only person who woke me up successfully without making me bitter in the process. He let me spend too much time in the bathroom and gave me medicine and the afternoon to rest when I got sick. I don't know how many men there are in the world who are as considerate as he is, but I know I'm lucky to have him in my life. No matter what there is to come, I already know I can never forget him. I slowly fell in love with him every time we saw one another, and now I've lost track of how deeply I've fallen.
As gloomy as it is to accept the past year as a memory in place of a living reality, I still know that I can always return, and that regardless of what happens, "we'll always have Paris..."
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
People and Places
"Dream as if you'll live forever, live as if you'll die today..."
-James Dean
Life is a precious and valuable gift that I never want to take for granted. The one which I am fortunate enough to be living is one to cherish. After a year full of insanity and new experiences, I shared my final evening with the Bouyoux family, and found myself in tears once they were all in their rooms, ready for bed.
Since September, I've rediscovered the dreams I used to have and managed to figure out what kind of person I want to become. There have been an abundance of times when I was completely lost and confused, and many nights of homesickness and frustration. What got me through the unpleasant and emotional times was a combination of knowing that I am in the city I'd dreamt of for so long, and knowing that there are people who love me and think of me with each passing moment.
Now, after having come so far from our first successful bath-time together, Etienne has found a permanent place in my memory and my heart. I was there when he started speaking French with his family, when he sang the alphabet song by himself and wrote his first word, and when he started washing himself in the tub and buttoning and unbuttoning his own clothes without any help. These memories will stay with me, along with all the dozens of cookies and batches of pancakes, the bedtime stories and stuffed animal friends, and the ongoing adventures of Captain Etienne and his pirate crew.
Of all the people and places I've seen during the past ten months, his family and Paris remain my favorites. I don't want to leave them, and it is certain that I will return over the years to come.
This is not the end of an amazing adventure, it's only the first of many chapters in my life. College, Disney, the Peace Corps, world travels, and maybe even realizing my childhood dream of being the first ballerina to dance on the moon are all ahead, among the unlimited options of the world before me...
-James Dean
Life is a precious and valuable gift that I never want to take for granted. The one which I am fortunate enough to be living is one to cherish. After a year full of insanity and new experiences, I shared my final evening with the Bouyoux family, and found myself in tears once they were all in their rooms, ready for bed.
Since September, I've rediscovered the dreams I used to have and managed to figure out what kind of person I want to become. There have been an abundance of times when I was completely lost and confused, and many nights of homesickness and frustration. What got me through the unpleasant and emotional times was a combination of knowing that I am in the city I'd dreamt of for so long, and knowing that there are people who love me and think of me with each passing moment.
Now, after having come so far from our first successful bath-time together, Etienne has found a permanent place in my memory and my heart. I was there when he started speaking French with his family, when he sang the alphabet song by himself and wrote his first word, and when he started washing himself in the tub and buttoning and unbuttoning his own clothes without any help. These memories will stay with me, along with all the dozens of cookies and batches of pancakes, the bedtime stories and stuffed animal friends, and the ongoing adventures of Captain Etienne and his pirate crew.
Of all the people and places I've seen during the past ten months, his family and Paris remain my favorites. I don't want to leave them, and it is certain that I will return over the years to come.
This is not the end of an amazing adventure, it's only the first of many chapters in my life. College, Disney, the Peace Corps, world travels, and maybe even realizing my childhood dream of being the first ballerina to dance on the moon are all ahead, among the unlimited options of the world before me...
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Life and Choices
"You are the sum of your experiences."
Mister Betournay recited this to the CATA community during a half-day workshop in my junior year. I can't recall whether or not he told us if they were his words, or a famous quotations from a prominent cultural figure, but I remember the words. I remember the tool-belt he wore that day, proclaiming each item from his own previous experience represented what he has learned, and how he takes them with him through the paths he follows.
I know that my first community theatre tours taught me a lot about the realities of drama, and also how much my decision to attend a new art school sophomore year has impacted my life as a whole. I am also certain that the risk of moving in with strangers in France has led to a series of events that have forced me to realize and accept who I am on my own, when I only have myself and a few material belongings which remain the same. It also forced me to take responsibility for my actions, and a young child, while thoroughly evaluating my options for the future.
"What would you do if you knew you could not fail?"
This was the question that my eyes fell upon late at night a few months ago, when I was searching for artistic inspiration on the world wide web. Afterwards, I signed off and pondered with my diary. My knee-jerk reaction was "Broadway and Hollywood," but I tossed it aside. Then, in the reflections that followed, memories of that six year old blond girl being blinded from the audience by stage lighting and the excitement she felt at the house applause at the end came flooding back. My first lead role, my first big audience, my debut at the opera house scrolled through the insides of my eyelids and I suddenly recalled the words to Broadway songs that inspired me at age thirteen.
Even now, as a nanny, my favorite part of play-time is when we make believe, and I hear myself pointing at a sculpture on the shelf and shouting out, "I see another cowboy coming!" Drawing cartoons to follow the stories I invent for Etienne, making silly faces, and using accents and different voices for the storybooks we read are all forms of expression. In these expressions outside of myself, whatever may be concerning me at the time is insignificant. I now believe that I belong in the world of performance, and am registered as a theatre performance major at Elmira College for the class of 2013.
All the reasons I have to stay in Paris, travel, teach English in China, major in communications, or do volunteer work in Northern Africa are not enough to make me decide to do them, because they are not the one thing that I truly desire. My wish is to return to dance lessons, practice scales and site reading, and tell stories that captivate an audience before me. Going to college and auditioning for Disney next year is the only option that I want to consider for my nineteenth year of life, and I am extremely excited for this.
And so, my experiences are still mounting, undeniably, and thus I am constantly learning and changing. I'm okay with that. There are an abundance of things in existence that I know nothing about, and I have accepted that and decided to ask questions, do my research, and realize that I will never know or understand everything. French grammar is difficult, people matter, and dreams do come true. These are among the things I have learned over the past eight months. What I choose to do for the next two is to keep on learning and listening, and never take "please" and "thank you" for granted. This is where I am in life, and with it, I am content.
Mister Betournay recited this to the CATA community during a half-day workshop in my junior year. I can't recall whether or not he told us if they were his words, or a famous quotations from a prominent cultural figure, but I remember the words. I remember the tool-belt he wore that day, proclaiming each item from his own previous experience represented what he has learned, and how he takes them with him through the paths he follows.
I know that my first community theatre tours taught me a lot about the realities of drama, and also how much my decision to attend a new art school sophomore year has impacted my life as a whole. I am also certain that the risk of moving in with strangers in France has led to a series of events that have forced me to realize and accept who I am on my own, when I only have myself and a few material belongings which remain the same. It also forced me to take responsibility for my actions, and a young child, while thoroughly evaluating my options for the future.
"What would you do if you knew you could not fail?"
This was the question that my eyes fell upon late at night a few months ago, when I was searching for artistic inspiration on the world wide web. Afterwards, I signed off and pondered with my diary. My knee-jerk reaction was "Broadway and Hollywood," but I tossed it aside. Then, in the reflections that followed, memories of that six year old blond girl being blinded from the audience by stage lighting and the excitement she felt at the house applause at the end came flooding back. My first lead role, my first big audience, my debut at the opera house scrolled through the insides of my eyelids and I suddenly recalled the words to Broadway songs that inspired me at age thirteen.
Even now, as a nanny, my favorite part of play-time is when we make believe, and I hear myself pointing at a sculpture on the shelf and shouting out, "I see another cowboy coming!" Drawing cartoons to follow the stories I invent for Etienne, making silly faces, and using accents and different voices for the storybooks we read are all forms of expression. In these expressions outside of myself, whatever may be concerning me at the time is insignificant. I now believe that I belong in the world of performance, and am registered as a theatre performance major at Elmira College for the class of 2013.
All the reasons I have to stay in Paris, travel, teach English in China, major in communications, or do volunteer work in Northern Africa are not enough to make me decide to do them, because they are not the one thing that I truly desire. My wish is to return to dance lessons, practice scales and site reading, and tell stories that captivate an audience before me. Going to college and auditioning for Disney next year is the only option that I want to consider for my nineteenth year of life, and I am extremely excited for this.
And so, my experiences are still mounting, undeniably, and thus I am constantly learning and changing. I'm okay with that. There are an abundance of things in existence that I know nothing about, and I have accepted that and decided to ask questions, do my research, and realize that I will never know or understand everything. French grammar is difficult, people matter, and dreams do come true. These are among the things I have learned over the past eight months. What I choose to do for the next two is to keep on learning and listening, and never take "please" and "thank you" for granted. This is where I am in life, and with it, I am content.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Dreams and Adventures
Life is an adventure -- this is one thing, of which, I am certain.
Over the past month, I have experienced what can only be described as a whirlwind of insanity. I went from wearing Santa Claus-inspired bubble bath beards to sparkling heels and a feather boa in a matter of days, touring through the city's sights with some exceptionally interesting humans, and doing the can-can in front of the Moulin Rouge before the show with Amel. I got next to no sleep with some new friends who I shared chocolate and secrets with in my apartment until nine in the morning, and tried not to get caught picking up the ancient bones of the Parisian catacombs while Marko tried to ignore me after my refusal to accept his advice on respect for the deceased.
Two pink suitcases of luggage for my South African adventure and a few fashion magazines later, plus a little sleep, I exited the international terminal in Cape Town and saw Ali making her way towards the pick-up area with Marko on her cell. After a taxi cab and some overdue updating on each other's lives, we ventured out to "Momma Africa" and ate some crocodile kabobs, ostrich steak, and an antelope jerky that they refer to as "biltong," (excuse my spelling if it's incorrect.)
After all the running around I'd been doing over that week before my arrival, I was absolutely and completely exhausted, and slept deeply and almost eternally on a mattress in Ali's dorm residence until the next morning had completely passed without me. Upon being well-rested, some shopping at the waterfront was in order, followed by a weekend of wine, dancing, and market-scoping. I took a day to truly vacate myself and relax with a classic read, "Catcher and the Rye," and made a plan-of-attack to conquer my tourism needs. I had a great tour of the peninsula, with a small group, and spent hours wandering the botanical gardens of Kirtsenbosch before my two-day safari on a private reserve outside of Cape Town. It was all too wonderful to even describe, and my stay ended far too soon, but we made the best of it an hung out in the castle before we made our hectic way to the airport to say our farewells...
Marko kindly met me at the airport, in spite of his father's presence at his apartment and a very early morning of intense exams at Louis le Grand the next day. Since, it's felt really great to be back in my second home and take in the floral winds and bright skies of springtime in Paris. Getting to hug Etienne again and attack him as the "soap monster" at bath-time also felt amazing. I had begun to miss the noise of a male-dominated household, and even the tickle attacks and inappropriate inquiries of teenage boys. The French coffee is up there on the list of things to miss about being here, as well!
And now, I simply must part for a holiday in Corsica with the Bouyoux family...
Have I mentioned how lucky I am to have gotten this job, with these people, in this absolutely magnificent setting?
La vie est belle.
Over the past month, I have experienced what can only be described as a whirlwind of insanity. I went from wearing Santa Claus-inspired bubble bath beards to sparkling heels and a feather boa in a matter of days, touring through the city's sights with some exceptionally interesting humans, and doing the can-can in front of the Moulin Rouge before the show with Amel. I got next to no sleep with some new friends who I shared chocolate and secrets with in my apartment until nine in the morning, and tried not to get caught picking up the ancient bones of the Parisian catacombs while Marko tried to ignore me after my refusal to accept his advice on respect for the deceased.
Two pink suitcases of luggage for my South African adventure and a few fashion magazines later, plus a little sleep, I exited the international terminal in Cape Town and saw Ali making her way towards the pick-up area with Marko on her cell. After a taxi cab and some overdue updating on each other's lives, we ventured out to "Momma Africa" and ate some crocodile kabobs, ostrich steak, and an antelope jerky that they refer to as "biltong," (excuse my spelling if it's incorrect.)
After all the running around I'd been doing over that week before my arrival, I was absolutely and completely exhausted, and slept deeply and almost eternally on a mattress in Ali's dorm residence until the next morning had completely passed without me. Upon being well-rested, some shopping at the waterfront was in order, followed by a weekend of wine, dancing, and market-scoping. I took a day to truly vacate myself and relax with a classic read, "Catcher and the Rye," and made a plan-of-attack to conquer my tourism needs. I had a great tour of the peninsula, with a small group, and spent hours wandering the botanical gardens of Kirtsenbosch before my two-day safari on a private reserve outside of Cape Town. It was all too wonderful to even describe, and my stay ended far too soon, but we made the best of it an hung out in the castle before we made our hectic way to the airport to say our farewells...
Marko kindly met me at the airport, in spite of his father's presence at his apartment and a very early morning of intense exams at Louis le Grand the next day. Since, it's felt really great to be back in my second home and take in the floral winds and bright skies of springtime in Paris. Getting to hug Etienne again and attack him as the "soap monster" at bath-time also felt amazing. I had begun to miss the noise of a male-dominated household, and even the tickle attacks and inappropriate inquiries of teenage boys. The French coffee is up there on the list of things to miss about being here, as well!
And now, I simply must part for a holiday in Corsica with the Bouyoux family...
Have I mentioned how lucky I am to have gotten this job, with these people, in this absolutely magnificent setting?
La vie est belle.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
A Little Clarification...
I am well aware that I have had more luck than I had expected or asked for in my life in Paris, and although I still consider myself one of the lucky ones, I need to make the point that I have been working since January of my senior year to get here. Luck played a part, but hard work and determination have had and continue to have much larger roles in the creation and maintenance of my new lifestyle.
The initial work consisted of online research, long talks with various persons who had spent time abroad through different studies and/or jobs, a gap-year/city-year programs fair, and working my small-town job as a hostess in a restaurant while working towards my high school graduation. After choosing the program I would follow, the au pair program, I then looked into various organizations as well as private sites and independent profiles before ultimately selecting an organization, which I applied for. The paperwork was entirely in French, and involved several weeks of acquiring recommendations, certificates, legal documents, and a personal profiling and work preference file. After all of the papers were received and the contract with Fee Revee was signed, the woman who was going to set me up with a host family and get me into a language school gave me a phone interview before sending out my profile. After that, I still had to go to my doctor for her to run some tests and fill out my medical forms and vaccine history, as well as hire an under-oath professional translation service for my diploma, have my school re-create an official certificate of my French language level in French, and revise and translate my resume to be submitted.
For a few weeks, I read the profiles of families that were interested in me based on my file, and when I found one that stuck out as potentially too good to be true, I replied with great interest and started exchanging emails with the woman who's now taken on the role of my second mother. She and her family had actually been living in New York City for the past two years and were looking for a nanny who could maintain their toddler's English abilities. Before they left NYC, she wanted to meet me and be certain that it felt like a good match, so I drove out there with my mom to meet them and we signed our official work contract before the afternoon was over. It was then sent to Fee Revee's office outside of Paris and I was left to wait for it to be approved by the French labor department, and also to get my official pre-inscription certificate from France Langue, my school.
There were problems with the post system and, during an extended period of waiting impatiently, my documents never left France. I had planned to visit Germany for two weeks before the commencement of my new life and job in the city of lights, and then take a train from Bremen to Paris once I got there. Unfortunately, work requires a visa, and my visa was dependent on the contents of that envelope. And so, I took my vacation with Nina's family while waiting to find out when my future landed in New Hampshire, and had my flight's return date changed to the end of August and went to the consulate in Boston after I came back. A week later, when I got my passport back in the mail, I was able to book my new flight to Paris, and my mom graciously put it on her credit card.
My visa was not the long-term eleven-month visa which I had applied for, but instead expired in December, with a note to get a residency permit upon arrival at the prefecture, which is essentially a complicated police department that also performs a lot of the functions which a town hall performs in America. I have been there a total of five times, with my constantly growing file of paperwork, and have$ been sent to the wrong office and told that I was in need of more documents on multiple occasions. In November, they made me an appointment with a doctor's office in Paris to check me over and put me into their medical system before they finally gave me my permit. Which, again, expired within three months. They never told me I needed to have finished payments for all three trimesters of school in order for them to approve my student status needed to remain in the country.
Since, I have been back to the prefecture and attempted to renew my student status, and am currently set up with an appointment to do just that.
All of this is only the official/professional piece of the equation. Factor in travel planning, moving adjustments, culture shock, homesickness, school, the job itself, setting up phone and bank accounts, etc. and it becomes exceptionally clear that being here and being happy here is not and never was a simple gift or an act of magic.
That said, and hopefully understood, my experience in Paris has been and continues to be absolutely fabulous. I just hope I've made it clear that there has been an abundance of direct effort, hard work, and determination that has gotten me to this point. Our lives are what we make of them, and we are responsible for creating our own experiences -- this is no exception.
The initial work consisted of online research, long talks with various persons who had spent time abroad through different studies and/or jobs, a gap-year/city-year programs fair, and working my small-town job as a hostess in a restaurant while working towards my high school graduation. After choosing the program I would follow, the au pair program, I then looked into various organizations as well as private sites and independent profiles before ultimately selecting an organization, which I applied for. The paperwork was entirely in French, and involved several weeks of acquiring recommendations, certificates, legal documents, and a personal profiling and work preference file. After all of the papers were received and the contract with Fee Revee was signed, the woman who was going to set me up with a host family and get me into a language school gave me a phone interview before sending out my profile. After that, I still had to go to my doctor for her to run some tests and fill out my medical forms and vaccine history, as well as hire an under-oath professional translation service for my diploma, have my school re-create an official certificate of my French language level in French, and revise and translate my resume to be submitted.
For a few weeks, I read the profiles of families that were interested in me based on my file, and when I found one that stuck out as potentially too good to be true, I replied with great interest and started exchanging emails with the woman who's now taken on the role of my second mother. She and her family had actually been living in New York City for the past two years and were looking for a nanny who could maintain their toddler's English abilities. Before they left NYC, she wanted to meet me and be certain that it felt like a good match, so I drove out there with my mom to meet them and we signed our official work contract before the afternoon was over. It was then sent to Fee Revee's office outside of Paris and I was left to wait for it to be approved by the French labor department, and also to get my official pre-inscription certificate from France Langue, my school.
There were problems with the post system and, during an extended period of waiting impatiently, my documents never left France. I had planned to visit Germany for two weeks before the commencement of my new life and job in the city of lights, and then take a train from Bremen to Paris once I got there. Unfortunately, work requires a visa, and my visa was dependent on the contents of that envelope. And so, I took my vacation with Nina's family while waiting to find out when my future landed in New Hampshire, and had my flight's return date changed to the end of August and went to the consulate in Boston after I came back. A week later, when I got my passport back in the mail, I was able to book my new flight to Paris, and my mom graciously put it on her credit card.
My visa was not the long-term eleven-month visa which I had applied for, but instead expired in December, with a note to get a residency permit upon arrival at the prefecture, which is essentially a complicated police department that also performs a lot of the functions which a town hall performs in America. I have been there a total of five times, with my constantly growing file of paperwork, and have$ been sent to the wrong office and told that I was in need of more documents on multiple occasions. In November, they made me an appointment with a doctor's office in Paris to check me over and put me into their medical system before they finally gave me my permit. Which, again, expired within three months. They never told me I needed to have finished payments for all three trimesters of school in order for them to approve my student status needed to remain in the country.
Since, I have been back to the prefecture and attempted to renew my student status, and am currently set up with an appointment to do just that.
All of this is only the official/professional piece of the equation. Factor in travel planning, moving adjustments, culture shock, homesickness, school, the job itself, setting up phone and bank accounts, etc. and it becomes exceptionally clear that being here and being happy here is not and never was a simple gift or an act of magic.
That said, and hopefully understood, my experience in Paris has been and continues to be absolutely fabulous. I just hope I've made it clear that there has been an abundance of direct effort, hard work, and determination that has gotten me to this point. Our lives are what we make of them, and we are responsible for creating our own experiences -- this is no exception.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Paris, mon amour...
I am absolutely consumed by the love I have for Paris.
I made pancakes for the boys in the morning, took pleasure and sweet time in getting myself all dolled up and feeling fabulous, and spent the afternoon and evening with two exceptional humans. We watched La Vague, a German drama with French subtitles, and it really made me think after we left. It was very well done, and I highly recommend it. (The translation of the title is "The Wave," if anyone reading this decides to take interest in it and look it up.)
Afterwards, we went to the Hard Rock Cafe of Paris and ate American food with fruity cocktails and talked too loud and laughed too much. We walked through the Champs Elysses and decided to return when it's warmer to jump into the fountains at Concorde, and eventually went into Hagen Daas for dolce de leche with whipped cream and sat on a bench under the lights until midnight. It was a great night, and I realized as I was walking down the famous avenue, that all the work I did to get here is incredibly worth the results I'm living right now. Even when I feel lonely, I can walk through the streets and see the gardens and smile at the sight of my heart's desire.
I made pancakes for the boys in the morning, took pleasure and sweet time in getting myself all dolled up and feeling fabulous, and spent the afternoon and evening with two exceptional humans. We watched La Vague, a German drama with French subtitles, and it really made me think after we left. It was very well done, and I highly recommend it. (The translation of the title is "The Wave," if anyone reading this decides to take interest in it and look it up.)
Afterwards, we went to the Hard Rock Cafe of Paris and ate American food with fruity cocktails and talked too loud and laughed too much. We walked through the Champs Elysses and decided to return when it's warmer to jump into the fountains at Concorde, and eventually went into Hagen Daas for dolce de leche with whipped cream and sat on a bench under the lights until midnight. It was a great night, and I realized as I was walking down the famous avenue, that all the work I did to get here is incredibly worth the results I'm living right now. Even when I feel lonely, I can walk through the streets and see the gardens and smile at the sight of my heart's desire.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Why I Love This Job
When the sky is grey and a drizzle tumbles down from the sky and dampens my trenchcoat as I walk by the bookstore, taking in the sweet smells coming from the flower shop around the corner, I know that I live in Paris. The vespas, smartcars, and ancient romantic architecture overflowing with small garden spaces set the perfect backdrop for these afternoon promenades through the city of my dreams. Late-night taxi rides back to my home in the sixteenth arrondisment showcase the illuminated city through my backseat window, and it captivates me. In the magical times that seem to generate themselves here, I forget about how much my feet hurt after dancing for hours in stilettos, and even how much I miss all the little comforts of my small-town New Hampshire life.
A midday cup of Carte Noir coffee and pleasant chats with Marie and Angela have provided me a new form of comfort, along with the bedtime kisses I receive from Etienne at the end of each workday. The thousands of reasons I could come up with to explain what it is that makes me able to truly enjoy the life I have here could never fully captivate the immense pleasure I get out of the rare and precious moments when the four year old I adore comes through and surprises me with small, yet at the same time grand, breakthroughs in his young life. Sometimes, it's just a smile that he gives me when the day seems long, and other times, it's the first ABC song or word or counting that he shows me he can do all by himself. Occasionally, it's a day of polite requests and unlimited laughter, or, my personal favorite, an hour or two of make-believe that enraptures the two of us so deeply that I forget that I'm at work.
To top off having the most incredible job I could have asked for in the most magnificent place I could ever imagine, my host family is a true second family who makes me feel worthwhile when I want to fall apart, and they do it without trying or even realizing it.
We went to Verbier, Switzerland, in the Alps, and the mountains were glass sculptures hand-blown by the universe for humans to admire for all time. Slow mornings in my own big, comfy bed, led to long breakfasts with Etienne and hours of snowman-building, slipping and sliding in slush, and sledding down the bottom of the mountain. Nearly every night was spent with Disney movies and room service before bed, and I wouldn't change it for the best restaurant in all of Europe. The landscape and long drive made me reminiscent of the White Mountain trips with Daddy every winter, and I wrote him a long letter telling him how much I wished he could be there.
Marie saw my manly old ski gear and insisted on giving me money to go shopping and buy a hot pink replacement, knowing I couldn't afford it on my own. She is the most generous woman I've ever had the pleasure of knowing, and I get to live daily in her presence. This is just one of the unlimited and ever-growing reasons that I admire her.
Upon our return to the city of lights, I enjoyed a day of relaxation, painting, self-pampering, and meeting up with a good friend for the evening. When work started again on Monday, it felt like a coming-home of sorts. In getting back into the swing of things and catching up on emails and re-writing my to-do list, I heard from my friend Ali from South Africa and decided to check up on the possibility of making a trip down to visit her, just to see if it's at all possible. As it turns out, it's not only possible, it's going to happen!
My payment for the Swiss vacation was much larger than I had expected, based on Marie's significant re-evaluation of my work during those couple of weeks. I was shocked and blushing when she informed me of the figure, and in all honesty, I'm still a bit mind-boggled at the concept of being paid to take one of the best vacations I've ever had. Nevertheless, it's this new-found financial surplus which is allowing me to make my African adventure next month a reality.
I'm more than aware that I've stated it over and over ever since my arrival, but it's something that cannot be proclaimed enough: I am one of the lucky ones.
A midday cup of Carte Noir coffee and pleasant chats with Marie and Angela have provided me a new form of comfort, along with the bedtime kisses I receive from Etienne at the end of each workday. The thousands of reasons I could come up with to explain what it is that makes me able to truly enjoy the life I have here could never fully captivate the immense pleasure I get out of the rare and precious moments when the four year old I adore comes through and surprises me with small, yet at the same time grand, breakthroughs in his young life. Sometimes, it's just a smile that he gives me when the day seems long, and other times, it's the first ABC song or word or counting that he shows me he can do all by himself. Occasionally, it's a day of polite requests and unlimited laughter, or, my personal favorite, an hour or two of make-believe that enraptures the two of us so deeply that I forget that I'm at work.
To top off having the most incredible job I could have asked for in the most magnificent place I could ever imagine, my host family is a true second family who makes me feel worthwhile when I want to fall apart, and they do it without trying or even realizing it.
We went to Verbier, Switzerland, in the Alps, and the mountains were glass sculptures hand-blown by the universe for humans to admire for all time. Slow mornings in my own big, comfy bed, led to long breakfasts with Etienne and hours of snowman-building, slipping and sliding in slush, and sledding down the bottom of the mountain. Nearly every night was spent with Disney movies and room service before bed, and I wouldn't change it for the best restaurant in all of Europe. The landscape and long drive made me reminiscent of the White Mountain trips with Daddy every winter, and I wrote him a long letter telling him how much I wished he could be there.
Marie saw my manly old ski gear and insisted on giving me money to go shopping and buy a hot pink replacement, knowing I couldn't afford it on my own. She is the most generous woman I've ever had the pleasure of knowing, and I get to live daily in her presence. This is just one of the unlimited and ever-growing reasons that I admire her.
Upon our return to the city of lights, I enjoyed a day of relaxation, painting, self-pampering, and meeting up with a good friend for the evening. When work started again on Monday, it felt like a coming-home of sorts. In getting back into the swing of things and catching up on emails and re-writing my to-do list, I heard from my friend Ali from South Africa and decided to check up on the possibility of making a trip down to visit her, just to see if it's at all possible. As it turns out, it's not only possible, it's going to happen!
My payment for the Swiss vacation was much larger than I had expected, based on Marie's significant re-evaluation of my work during those couple of weeks. I was shocked and blushing when she informed me of the figure, and in all honesty, I'm still a bit mind-boggled at the concept of being paid to take one of the best vacations I've ever had. Nevertheless, it's this new-found financial surplus which is allowing me to make my African adventure next month a reality.
I'm more than aware that I've stated it over and over ever since my arrival, but it's something that cannot be proclaimed enough: I am one of the lucky ones.
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