Getting Settled

Last night we were back at Max's and there was champagne, so no surprise when we spent this morning sleeping in. We had planned to go see A Serious Man- a movie my friend Jon keeps recommending me- it's the new Coen Brother's flick. However after popping to the grocery store and boulangerie I came home we had breakfast and it was a quiet Sunday at home that appealed to me more than anything else and Sylvain agreed.

We made calls home to our parents and then I went from reading Eating Animals- which gets better day by day to finding a bit of an expat community for me. I found a Yoga center that is very reasonably priced and has Vinyasa classes and a bilingual website. Tomorrow I need to go to Darty and get a new hair dryer, go to the apple store and get a French power adaptor for my MacBook and I found a few interesting "American Groups" online. The Association of American Wives of Europeans is one of them. I'm not a wife, and I have a feeling all the ladies are my grandmothers age, but I found a good website for American women where there are book clubs, events and art exhibits.

The point of me being here wasn't to speak English all the time but I do want to find a community of my own. Mostly I'd just like a yoga class and a few book or art events to be involved in. As nice as all Sylvain's friends are, and they are incredibly warm, none of them are particularly involved in the arts or in education.

Sylvain has this program that we speak French in the morning and English in the afternoon, however, between the two of us we almost always speak English. Occasionally we have 5 minute conversations in French throughout the day but nonetheless I'm finding that unlike watching French TV while we were in Chile, I understand a lot more of what is being said when we have the TV on, and when we hang out with his friend's its all French except when I need translations. He'd like me to register at Alliance Francaise for classes but they're so expensive, and until I find a job, we just can't afford anything like that.

First Impressions

Sylvain took me to meet his friend Maxim last night. Maxim lives with Bertrand and Bertrand's girlfriend Amandine joined the party as well. Neuilly was a little nicer than our arrondissement, Sarkozy used to be the Mayor of Neuilly. Their apartment had two big bedrooms and a living room- the layout made no sense similar to most of the flats I've seen in London - it seemed like their kitchen was sort of part of the hallway. We listened to Brit pop and drank wine while we nibbled on cheese. Could we have had more of a "french" evening? I think not.

This week I had one job interview, it went well but I ultimately came in #2 (according to dad who interviewed me). Kids don't have school on Wed in France and so this family was looking for someone to look after their two boys in English. They lived in New York for 10 years but the youngest only spent a short time there before moving back to Paris and the father wanted both sons to attend Ecole Bilingue, only the older one had been accepted. In no way was this my dream job- I love being a teacher, but I've never taken to being a babysitter. I could be wrong but the father's tone changed in the interview after money was discussed- he asked how much I'd like to get paid- I said between 20 and 30euro but he had thought 13 euro was appropriate. I didn't mind at all, but the post was listed as an English tutor and until we discussed the position I hadn't realized it would be more than a few hours after school so I was going by the standard rate for English tutoring. I had no idea what babysitters made and so I just stuck with the tutoring rate. I told him 13 would be fine, but I think he thought I was crazy to suggest that kind of money and soured on me.

Some initial blatant generalizations from my first week in Paris:
1. 99% of the women are skinny chicken legged sticks
2. 95% of the men are skinny and chicken legged as well
3. Everything is crazy expensive even as the dollar closes in on the euro: see $10 laundry
4. Paris reminds me distinctly of London except that wine is significantly cheaper
5. The produce markets are just as I imagined they would be
6. Both French Men and Women are far more likely to be attractive than anywhere else I've ever been
7. It's far less stigmatized (blatantly or concealed) to have mixed race friendships or romantic relationships - the sort of "guess whose coming to dinner" awkwardness just wouldn't happen

This photo of Jules Joffrin Metro entrance is one of our two metro stops in the 18th.

Salinger and Zinn

A few months ago Patrick Swazye died. As a girl I thought Dirty Dancing was about the best movie I'd ever seen, I loved the dancing, I was totally oblivious to the whole abortion thing, but the scene where they practice in the lake- wow. It was sad to hear about Patrick Swazye's death but yesterday two people died who, at least for me, changed me in more significant ways. Last week Sylvain helped me translate my CV into French and under "interests" he had written "reading" and he asked me to include an author that was important to me- I told him Salinger. I dont remember when I first read Salinger but it was sometime in high school, a book I wished had been on our Language Arts reading list because I felt like as much as I loved reading Catcher in the Rye, there were probably things I was missing, depth and nuance that needed more voices to suss the meaning out. Later when I moved to New York I was working as a reading and writing tutor in a class that was reading Catcher. I had reread the book several times in the interim, but I sat back and soaked it all up reconsidering so many details of the story. His short stories were probably my favorite but surely Holden Caufield was my favorite literary character.

Howard Zinn's A People's History I read the summer of 2000 when I did my internship in New York. I remember reading it across the street from my apartment in Union Square in the evening when I could hear rats scuttling back and forth behind me. A People's History was a brick, but it reoriented my ideas about the history I was born out of. At the time I felt like all history textbooks should be burned and replaced by a personal copy of this book. It felt like a bible for me- this was far more important then any Adam and Eve fairytale, this book had real significance in giving me perspective on how we live today and what matters. Zinn was teaching at UW Madison and I felt jealous of all my friends that were there. I lent that book to my friend Ben and he never gave it back hinting that I might want to buy another copy, I wanted to, but it was 20 dollars in paperback and at the time, that seemed like a ton of money to re-spend on a book I'd already read. Naomi Klein has probably usurped Zinn on my bookshelf, but I don't think I ever could have gotten to Naomi if it hadn't been for Zinn.

I recommend the NYT's article about Zinn and of course go out and get a copy of the People's History.

I hate mean people

Today we went to the laundry- prices at the laundry are simply unbelievable, to do one regular size load of laundry cost us 10 dollars. In New York it's about 3 dollars- sometimes 4. We don't live in a posh neighborhood, and although it's not slummy it seems like one of those places that represent a space in between.

We put our laundry in and Sylvain went to go get a new key made for me, since the first one we had made did not function as a key should, by unlocking the door. While he was away I took out my new Kindle (thanks mom!) and commenced reading Jonathan Safran Foer's new book Eating Animals- already I was ticking off people I needed to pitch this book to- Schuyler, Loretta put it on your reading list...

Then three middle school age kids came in. In the past I have lived and worked in some of the most unsavory neighborhoods in the Bronx, the Lower East Side and Brooklyn, as a teacher I have seen young people do cruel and mean things to their peers. It's not that I thought kids were angels- on the contrary. I've seen plenty behaving badly. However, usually in some way real or perceived these kids had been "provoked" to behave badly by their friends, enemies or whomever. So it came as some surprise to me when these jeune francais took the garbage can and shut (chair back lodged under door knob style) the nice owner man who had gone in the back to get some tools as he was fixing a dryer. Two seconds later when he tried to push his way out the boys ran off in hysterical fits of laughter and Sylvain went to help the man out. He had already broken the door off but was still stuck. Call me sensitive but these sort of things break my heart and get me down. I hate mean people young or old. The boys found their trick hilarious, but I didn't. I have almost never been afraid of anyone I've ever run into in New York or for that matter, anywhere else I've lived but from the moment they came in, I was uneasy. First of all, they had no reason to be there, they were simply loitering, plus they were hanging out by our washing and playing with our laundry detergent. As a teacher I have advocated against the criminalization of youth, but instead of kids being kids, this was a situation that struck me deplorable. You see, they had not been provoked in any way by the owner and yet they decided to be cruel to him nonetheless, so, perhaps if Sylvain hadn't been with me, they would have played a trick on me sitting there innocently reading my Kindle. This is ultimately what worries me- the random act of violence. For more information see Happy Slapping...

Jet Lag

I woke up today at noon. Ask anyone, that's out of character for me, I'm generally up and about around 8. Our first night on our IKEA bed, it was an improvement, but it wasn't bliss. We've always had a queen or king bed and I think the full mattress will take a little getting used to- I noticed I woke up in the exact same position I went to sleep in- I don't think I moved all night long- according to my neck- I didn't. Nevertheless sore or not, I was looking forward to the baguette, creamy cheese and apricot jam I was planning to eat for mon petit dejeuner.

We had a list of things to do today, get Sylvain an adaptor for his laptop (endless problems with Sylvain's Acer Laptop), try and get another convertor for my electronic things, we had keys made for me, but one of them ended up not working so we need to remedy that, and another baguette.

We were going to be walking 2 miles to the store for Sylvain's laptop, I love cities like New York, London, Chicago etc because you can get decent exercise just by running your errands. Still I wish he would have mentioned our itinerary before we left the apartment so I would have worn tennis shoes instead of cowboy boots. On the way we found a chinese grocery which was perfect because he wanted General Tso's which uses a lot of soy sauce and you can buy it in large bottles here. We also picked up some noodles and will probably end up being regulars, we both love asian food and it tends to be cheap to make once you get the basic vinegars and sauce bases.

Whenever I think of Paris I think of the Paris that I've seen as a tourist. As a tourist in New York most people venture very little outside of times square and chinatown with the addition of central park. But Paris is far more sprawling like London. Thus outside of our walk through Montemartre, we've seen very little that strikes your eye as utterly picturesque or beautiful. It's true the architecture here is ornate and pretty, but from having been inside about 5 Parisian apartments, one would start to wonder whether only the rich can afford a Parisian apartment with any room or charm.

Something that strikes me as unexpected here is the graffiti. In Valparaiso there was beautiful street art anywhere there was an empty wall, but it wasn't simple tagging it was generally figurative and done by an artist. In Paris the tag is dominant, and thus far less engaging and there are endless bits of what for me is more along the lines of vandalism oftentimes somewhat vulgar. Paris is well known for it's street artists, but it's also well known for it's angsty outspoken youth (often for good reason, especially along racial lines) so it would appear to me, that unlike New York, London, and Chile, France has some issues it needs to deal with. Obviously New York, London etc have their own issues regarding youth, immigration and a million other things. Paris is meant to be what you measure all other city beauty by, but at least for me, this is a crown that the French have let slip away.

First Stop IKEA

Last night was rough... Not the worst night of sleep, but I think if I was stuck sleeping on a box spring or the flip and f*&# I would probably last no more than a month here. I've spent a good part of my first 24 hours considering the human comforts I've given up to be here. Before I left I was aware of the luxuries I wouldn't have in Paris, but then you arrive and you are faced with walking up four flights of stairs and not having an oven and instead of the idea you are hit with the reality.

Leave it to IKEA to sort you out... Waking up this morning remedying the sleeping situation seemed like the first critical piece to move forward. Sylvain went out and got baguette and pain au chocolat for breakfast- maybe that was actually the first critical move forward, After our petit dejeuner it was time to head to IKEA. To get there was rather involved two metro trains, a real train and a bus, I was exhausted and cold throughout the trip- jet lag had taken up residence dans mon corps.

We had done some online shopping last night so we made a beeline to our future bed/couch, we lay on the mattress and deemed it suitable. While horizontal I noticed across the room there were some simple tables for 5e and I knew we'd need one of those too. We also needed a garbage can and a bigger pot for my plans to make soup however on the way out I saw about 6 other things I would have bought if Sylvain hadn't reigned me in. As much as I wanted to furnish our lives with a few more IKEA accessories, Sylvain was right, our apartment is not big, and anything else we added to our purchases would take up precious space we didn't have.

We had planned on getting our bed delivered but while standing in line to arrange delivery a taxi man came and offered us a cheaper price to drive us and our loot home in his moving van. Sylvain took 2 minutes to think about it, and accepted. This ended up making life a lot easier, we got a ride, we got our things home with us and Sylvain was able to put the bed together right away while I screwed in the legs of my new bedside table.

The little space we do have went from looking like a disaster to making sense, good riddance box spring mattress, welcome home IKEA couch bed. To cap our day off the hot water returned and so after a warm bath everything finally feels sorted. Home sweet home...

Je suis arrivee

Sunday was spent wasting hours away cleaning, packing and watching endless episodes of Park and Recreation. I headed to the airport early as I was instructed considering the cat. Air France employees were immediately taken with the petit chat and although I had all my papers out ready to share with them having spent hundreds of dollars and hours obtaining all the proper vaccinations, signatures, and stamps necessary, but no one was interested in reviewing them. I seriously underestimated my cat, he was a champ throughout the whole experience. Once we took off we experienced a lot of turbulence- I have never had problems flying, but I was uncharacteristically worried that the turbulence would stress him out, nonetheless he didn't cry at all.

Having had plenty of opportunity to queue up for hours in customs lines in Chile, the States, Ethiopia etc, I was prepared for a long wait, imagine my surprise when I passing the duane took all of 3 minutes. Sylvain was waiting on the other side and we packed the taxi with my bags and headed home on a gray Paris day. I couldn't help but think London.

Our apartment is...small, especially when we have 3 large suitcases inside. The kitchen is closet size, which for someone who loves cooking is... a bummer, the bathroom is practical and the main room has enough room to have our kitchen table and for now, a box spring twin mattress and what is commonly called a "flip and F@#*. I don't know the original name of those cheap modular chairs that we had in fourth grade silent reading, and sometimes in college dorm rooms flipping it into a makeshift beds when friends came to visit.

Yesterday we walked through Montmartre and had a glass of wine and then walked back to our neighborhood to find a place to eat. We found a place just at the end of our block, I was losing the plot pretty quickly as I'd only managed 3 or 4 hours of sleep and so I soon found myself in dreamland with box springs poking into my sides. Bummer #2. Today is wholeheartedly dedicated to IKEA and finding a better option...

This picture shows Sylvain outside our apartment building...

Far out Queens

Yesterday I got on a succession of trains, and then a bus to get my Feline Forms stamped allowing me to take Manny to France. Unfortunately 2 hours into the journey to Queens still on the bus, I called their offices to say I would be late for my appointment but should only be about 20 minutes late. Whomever took the appointment overlooked the fact that it being Martin Luther King day, the offices would be closed. So I headed back to Manhattan having wasted four hours of my life in transit to disappointment.

Today I woke up confident that having gone through a dry run the day before, I'd have all the wrinkles of transfers and bus stops worked out. The bus dropped me off in a trucking cargo area, I followed the directions I'd emailed to myself from Hopstop.com hopefully headed towards Rockaway Pkwy, where I should take a left. The parkway had a pedestrian pathway that could not have been used in recent months or maybe years by any human person except perhaps to throw their trash or dump bodies. I could not see anything resembling a future intersection, but by this point I was determined to stay the course.

I reached another cargo trucking area center but this time the large lot had a few office buildings, the USDA was the first one, it took me literally one minute for the nice man who took my original appointment to stamp my papers and collect $35 precious dollars.

An hour later I arrived at the end of the subway line to return to my beloved Manhattan. At the end of the line there are two subway lines the J and the E. I had taken the E to far out Queens but I was thinking of having lunch at a dominican place I liked when working in the Lower East Side and the J would bring me there through Brooklyn, whereas the E would take me straight back to midtown Manhattan. The J train was waiting there and I got on the first empty train car with another couple, I planned to walk through a few cars to get to a more populated train car and I wanted to be in the middle of the train when I exited anyway. On the way towards the internal doors which lead to the next subway car rather than the platform the man that was part of a couple dropped a knife- his girlfriend looked at me an apologized with a smirk, and I carried on until I got to a car with a few more faces. Two minutes later the couple arrived and sat across from me, smiling.

Turns out I will be in the Lower East Side to meet my friend for Chris for a drink on Thursday- I could have dinner at the dominican place on Thursday- mission aborted. I left the train and headed upstairs in time to grab a populated E train car back to Manhattan.

Commitments

A couple weeks ago I arrived way too early to the movie I was planning on seeing so I decided to go read something across the street at the Lincoln Center Barnes and Nobles. It was Liz Gilbert's Commitment. I read the first two chapters and felt a similar love hate to her earlier book Eat Love Pray. I loved Eat Love Pray, but there was an underlying narcissism that irked me. So then Commitment came out and I was curious but let's face it, I knew I was going to get page after page of sickly sweet Felipe and I are terribly flawed people with a terribly perfect love story, complete with huge romantic hurdles to overcome.

But she and I shared one thing- we both fell for foreigners, and I knew there might be a few things I could learn from her experience. Even if I refuse to pay money for her lessons they arrive at a time when I've found myself particularly introspective about such commitments. For one as a girl it's hard not to think about: as my friends planned their weddings I internally considered how I would do things differently even though when it came down to it, I had one huge strike against officially sealing the deal- it felt innately wrong for me to enjoy the privileges hetero couples have access to that gay couples don't- especially when such vitriolic hate was being spewed against lovely people who just wanted to share their life with someone they love- how is that evil? If this didn't affect someone very close to my heart, then maybe it wouldn't be so important to me, but it does. Either way turns out there's a lot of practical stuff Liz shares- for one to get married and stay in the states the FBI is required to investigate me, which could take months. This is to crack down on mail-order bride/enslavement or forced prostitution type marriages. So plan ahead to have your life combed through, and make no plans until the FBI gives you the green light.

My name means maiden (unmarried) and for most of my life I've had a nagging feeling that I might just end up one. It's not that I've lived a loveless life, but I've rarely met people that impressed me enough to carry on a serious relationship with. So when Sylvain came along, I find myself humbled by the love that grew. Like Liz and Felipe we will have to get married if we insist on pursuing a shared future together. It is my experience that this kind of commitment- marriage- is largely consumed by the act of a wedding and the accoutrements that surround a wedding, rings, dresses, bridesmaids, menu choices etc.

Sylvain and I both see the big white event as antiquated, garish and ostentatious. I have several friends who have had lovely and terribly fun wedding parties, but it feels too important to symbolize with diamonds, bloated guest lists and overpriced venues. After all, as Liz recounts in Commitment marriages based on love have an overwhelming rate of failure. With matters of the heart, vows or not, sometimes hearts change. So isn't there something shameful about throwing a huge party, gloating over a huge rock and then having it all fail? Wouldn't it be better to plan a wedding that acknowledges a wedding is merely one day in a lifetime, hopefully a happy day, but nonetheless a rather easy one considering what surely lies ahead when two people commit to cohabitating for life.

Im not suggesting some sort of amish restraint, but instead that perhaps the cost of wedding ought not to exceed a down payment on a house, and that really we acknowledge that the size of ones diamond engagement ring is not always in proportion to the strength of love or length of marriage.

Still, I think Liz may have something here- while we may all not be as lucky as Liz in Felipe in having found nauseating perfect love- I do believe she proposes an important chapter propped against the tragedy of The Bachelor style romances that I am sometimes afraid have begun to mis-define love in America. She insists that at 25 she was too young and dumb to have thought about any of this her first up to bat and left it's success all up to chance- and so it failed- so she asks her readers to take the time to consider with her, just what some of the right reasons might be and at some points out why bother? It's just due diligence people.

It turns out I like reading Liz's book, it's probably because we share a lot of the same ideas about the framework of a marriage, and of course having your opinions validated by another is rarely an unhappy thing.

Cats flying to France

This afternoon I brought Manny to the vet for the first time. Manny doesn't like to leave the house and so I knew that both moving to Paris with him, and bringing him to the vet might be traumatic experiences as he has a high shriek that can be alarming in public spaces. I left the house planning on taking the subway due to my limited funds, but as I left the building I realized that a taxi might be a better option, and since there was one right there, we hopped in and rode to 72nd st and Broadway. We arrived and waited an hour to be seen, but he calmed down as soon as I stuck my hand in his carrier and we were no longer mobile. The offices had an old resident golden retriever named Toby and I asked the receptionist the most common animal names they hear, the list included: Coco, Shadow, Buddy, Cookie etc. When we finally saw the Vet, a young woman my age whose last name had "cloud" in it Manny seemed both curious and as well behaved as he's ever been- she must have been a sort of cat whisperer. He had to get two vaccinations and a micro-chip ID. I had to cover my eyes and grimace during his shots but they did not seem to faze Manny in the least as he neither moved or made a peep. The micro-chip had a huge needle and I can't believe it didn't hurt. The vet was as nice as they come and filled out all the paperwork occasionally fudging dates for me where needed. The bill was $242 which hurt, but I think having Manny with me in France will be worth it. Manny had a loud heart murmur which the vet told me I could go see a cardio-specialist about, but frankly my cat is still just a cat, and I am not in any position to spend money on a feline heart specialist or any ensuing bills, procedures or pills that go along with his heart murmur.

In the past I've mentioned my desire to get a dog, but after a visit to a friend with a 1 year old golden and spending an hour with a 6 or 7 dogs at the vet, I may be reconsidering this idea. The vet appointments alone will be a serious burden on my paycheck and although I had my golden as a child, they seemed to have gotten bigger and sturdier- and I hate dogs any smaller than beagles. There were a lot of people at the vet's office who I filed in the 'crazy' folder because every time their dog moved they did the sort of Kathy Lee Gifford 'isn't my kid so cute thing'. I like animals, but I also live in reality and have a life, I guess I feel like having more than one pet at a time might be over-doing it.

NY baggage

Last night I went to the new Pedro Almodovar movie Broken Embraces. I've seen all Almodovar's movies and Penelope Cruz is his go to leading lady, and he tells a good story. Lincoln square has a Loews or AMC movie theater and an independent one. The independent pulls in an older upper west side crowd and last night was no different. Sitting behind me were 50 something couples and the two women were having a conversation about a recent bus ride.

Lady #1: So this guy was on his cell phone and the bus driver stopped the bus got on the mic and told him to shut off his phone, but there were two people having a conversation and they were even louder than the man on his phone.

Lady #2 Huh, that sounds annoying.

Lady #1 Yeah, I think the bus driver should have told the two women to stop their conversation.

Lady #2 Really?

Lady #1 I think buses should be no talking.

Lady #2 Well I don't.

You know you're old when you advocate for no talking on public transportation.

Today I went to New Jersey and bought a new suitcase. It was buy one get one free- great deal, but a little tricky when taking the Path train to New Jersey and then transferring to the subway in Manhattan. I had taken the Path train before but only with a friend who lived in New Jersey. I didn't really understand how the map worked because it ended up back tracking after visiting Hoboken, and I had to ask someone after I found myself confused with the unexpected stop. After buying my luggage I headed back home and got help from two nice men who helped me lug the bulky baggage up the various flights of stairs. When I got to the subway I was standing next to a older gentleman who had just gone to whole foods and was peeling himself a mandarin. After watching him for a few seconds the smell wafted over to me and I began to realize I was hungry and that a mandarin was just what I wanted. Then I imagined him reaching in his bag and offering me one. When he reached in his bag and said "traveling dehydrates you, here", I accepted the mandarin marveling over how pleasant New Yorkers are.

Sex Ed

All week long I've been subbing for a teacher whose had some stomach problems and teaching her Non-Fiction classes. Today was no different, but there was one extra class I had to teach. That class was health, and todays subject was sex ed.

I was hoping it would make for a good story. My boss told me I could hold a study hall if I was uncomfortable taking on this matter, but teaching and talking about this subject does not embarrass me in the least. I was looking forward to it.

My good friend Pierre was amused that I would be teaching this and sat in on the class. In New York, teachers are required to give out a Do Now- it is supposed to get the students working right away when they enter the classroom in an effort not to lose precious teaching time. The Do Now for Health class had a diagram of three women and three men passing through the changes puberty brings, filling out in various ways as men and women are bound to do. The students had to describe the changes each gender goes through. The kids didn't know how to spell Vagina or Penis and so I had to spell them on the board- but what was more disturbing was what they wrote. Many of them had frightening descriptions.

For class the health teacher had prepared a Powerpoint and we read first about the changes boys bodies go through, covering erections, testosterone and wet dreams. I was confident going in that this would be an easy class because 12 year olds are riveted by this topic. This is a wealth of information that they are dying to know... Which isn't surprising because from their comments their parents and grandparents are providing with them a host of information often referred to as old wives tales. We got to girls and we talked about menstruation and menopause and saw various diagrams of the reproductive organs.

Last night one of our 9th grade students gave birth to a baby boy that she will keep, but that was made in an act of rape. So I hope that this information is just the beginning. I know that this course will go into sexually transmitted diseases and cover the gauntlet of information regarding sex and issues around sex.

Sure, as teachers we laugh at the silly things kids have heard and repeat and we relish in debunking these myths, but regarding sex education there are still people that opt their kids out. Kids need to gain confidence around their bodies in order to respect them, and without a strong knowledge base around this subject they won't.

Back at Work

Today was a great day: I got a call to sub.

I told my old job I was available to sub since I was back in NYC, the staff and the kids welcomed me back with open arms and while I was teaching Morenike came in and we jumped into each other arms like two silly girls and didn't let go forever- the kids thought we were crazy. Seeing Betsy and Pierre and everyone else who wanted to hear about my trip, it felt like coming home. I let the kids ask me 3 questions about Chile before we got started on their work - they wanted to know- did you meet any cute boys, were the Chilean's cute, did you live in a shack or a hut, was the food really good, did you make good art. How can you not love being a teacher!

Hyde is building a High School and after looking at the plans I can't help but be excited- we are housed in such a poor building, where the elementary and middle school would stay, but the new high school looks to the future, it finishes strong...

The kids were hoping I was coming back to teach them art- this always makes me laugh because anytime you replace a teacher the kids always want the old one back, but when I was there, they were happy to complain I gave them too much work.

Travel Styles

Julia Child and I seem to have more in common than I originally imagined. She writes "Once upon a time I was a contented single woman, but now I couldn't stand it"... With Sylvain in France, I'm missing my built in buddy. But what especially rings true is her relationship with her father and her trip through France and Italy with him. "But this wasn't real travel, as I saw it... in fact, I didn't like traveling first class at all...none of it seemed foreign enough to me."

Of her father she says, "The poor man couldn't wait to return to California, "I'm so happy at home, where I've got my nice house, my friends, and I can talk the language." When we returned to Paris, I fell into Paul's arms and squeezed him tight. It struck me how utterly divorced I had become from old Pop and his type- moneyed, materialistic, not at all introspective- and how profoundly and abysmally stupefyingly apathetic his world view had rendered me."

I haven't done a lot of traveling with my parent's but I've done enough to know we are a very different style traveler; growing up we spent our vacations at the cottage- which was perfection- so it wasn't until I graduated from high school that I really went on a trip with my parents. We went to Seattle and drove to Vancouver, it was a NADA trip and we ate fancy dinners on boats and took a small 6 seater plane to a nearby island for a memorable meal. But at 18 they cramped my style, we both tried to please each other but I don't think it was a hit for either party- they insisted on going up the space needle, I had no interest and tried to sit it out, they insisted so I acquiesced and they tooled around art museums they had no interest in seeing. Two years ago I went to Africa with my dad, going to Africa was a dream of mine for a while and I was lucky to have the first class experience we had on safari, but I was disappointed we didn't get to go to Cape Town and Jo'burg, there was so much cultural history and exploring to do I felt having traveled so far it was a mistake not to take it all in. My parents aren't materialistic but they do like to travel in the style of a tour group.

I'm not sure if my world travels have rubbed off on them but upon returning to the states after hiking Mt Kilimanjaro my dad expressed an interest in going to India. I almost fell off my chair. Years earlier my parents visited me in London- I had never seen more awkward travelers- during their visit we took the Eurostar to Paris for the day- the tickets were outrageous since they hadn't been booked in advance, but my dad reasoned this would be the only time my mother would ever have the chance to go to France. It's not that they wouldn't have the money, or ability, I just don't think my dad felt like there would be any reason to bother.

I want to go on trip with my mom someday. I don't imagine it will be the trip of a lifetime- after all, I've summitted Kili- but my mom travels yearly with her mom, sometimes her excuse is that it will be the last opportunity to travel since my grandma is getting older and isn't as mobile as she used to be... although I wouldn't tell her that.

I'm sure it's my grandmother's lifetime of traveling that inspired me. She went to africa and asia constantly when I was growing up. My mom has not always been so supportive of some of the travels I've taken, "You can't do everything" she'll say; but the thing is, I watched my grandmother go everywhere, so I knew you could- the difference being, my grandmother and I wanted to and so we did/do, I think for the most part, my parents like their house, mom would worry if she couldn't speak the language, and they both worry about catching flights and all the logistic stuff. Today's modern travel is worry free, you just go on Kayak.com and find a cheap deal- then click purchase. Let the adventure begin... love it or hate it, the stories will bubble to the surface, the fleas, the diarrhea, the nights spent freezing in a Madrid subway, the near muggings, new friends and major accomplishments.

I suggested we take a cooking class in Provence... food is always the best way to make a memory.

Taking it all in...

Being back in New York brings me way back, back to when I first moved here. I'd spent a lot of time in New York before ever having lived here having been a summer gallery intern and NYU summer school and while I was a whiz at getting around and knew a few places to take friends it wasn't the same as paying rent and shlomping through the streets with the rest of the New Yorkers on your way to work or the first day of good weather when hoards of New Yorkers strip down to the essentials and bask in the sun in whatever park is closest.

I was 25 and I'd already lived in London for a few years, I'd just gone through a big break-up and hiked through Inca territory in Peru. Looking back now, well, it seems like a lifetime ago. All the boys I dated, all the parties, the roommates, the apartments... Most people look back at college as the best years of their lives, having gone to a woman's college I can't claim the same, but I look back at New York and I know it's the essential chapter.

I'm about to move to Paris and I don't know if Paris will be the next big chapter in my book or if it will amount to little more than a blip on the radar. I'm thrilled to be going, but not knowing if it will feel like home the way New York does, it's easy to imagine returning to the big apple and going back to a job I love, my yoga classes, and chinese take-out.

Last night was the weirdest New Year's Eve of my lifetime. It involved a conservative Polish man that having asked me if I was a feminist told me I belonged in a concentration camp and hung. He was a colorful character and openly shared his views on things. Normally anyone who might condemn me to death within the first five minutes of meeting them would mark a night of misery, but unlike the views many of my family members share with Andre- Andre's delivery was so outrageous it was often difficult to get to anger through the shock. Andre wasn't all politics, he shared his delight for strippers and dirty innuendoes as well.

As for now, I'm catching up on what I've been missing out on and may not find available in the coming months: spending my days listening to my favorite WNYC programming while sewing and catching up on endless Daily Shows with Jon Stewart I couldn't get in Chile. As pricey as they are, I'm treating myself to a Yoga class here and there, I've never been so careful about every penny I spend, but I love my yoga studio here.