Frog Blog

i've been trapped in my room for the better part of a week with bronchitis. today i am beginning to feel human again, just really friggin' tired. i've been so inactive that trying to be active again is a struggle, but i absolutely cannot stay in my tiny little apartment for one more minute. my room measures about 9x13, not including the adjoining room for my shower and sink (i share a toilet with a flatmate). small enough to give you a major case of cabin fever.

today it's not as cold out and i can just barely sense a tiny bit of spring in the air-- it's a fragile feeling, a delicateness. god, i can't wait.

going to the doctor was an interesting experience. my teacher called for me and got me into an appointment at 8:45 wednesday night. we arrived and there was no receptionist, no paperwork to fill out, nothing. just a small waiting room full of magazines. the doctor himself came to meet us and i followed him back to his office. i think his apartment is in the same building, which would maybe explain why his office hours were so late.

he was really, really nice, and proficient-- he took a good long listen to my lungs, asked about my sinuses and fever, etc., all the things a doctor should do, of course. he said, yep, it's bronchitis, and gave me a note excusing me from class for two days along with a prescription for some amoxicillan, that wonder drug! then he said, ok, 20 euros, please. no receipt, no submitting paperwork to insurance companies-- i didn't even have to give him my date of birth. just pay 20 euros and i'm done. he was actually surprised that i have a "carte vitale," a social security card that renders me, as a card carrying member, a temporary citizen of france, eligible for health care benefits, etc.

all of my medicine came to 8 euros.

back home, without insurance, an office visit like this would have cost 80 dollars-- and at that time of night it would have been at the emergency room, which would have doubled the cost. yikes! healthcare-- something everyone should be able to afford!

now my breathing is better (although i am not free of general snogginess) and my fever is gone and i went out to buy some bread today and it was still warm from the oven at the boulangerie. and the weather is 9 degrees warmer than it has been... so things are bound to be looking up, right?

so i get my ass out of bed this morning to get to class and no one shows up. (growl!) granted, there is a civil union strike today, which includes teachers, postal workers, the bus and trains, garbagemen, etc., but my teacher whose kids i was supposed to see today assured me that her student would be there as she was not going on strike herself.

it's not all that big of a deal-- more time to blog now, check email, wake up, etc., but i hate how i stress out at bedtime the night before and then show up for nothing. i'd rather stay in bed or have a nice, leisurely breakfast. but i'd also like a million dollars, so, i guess life is unfair.

last night the gang threw a little wine tasting party. it was mostly just an excuse to get together and throw a few back and enjoy some good french cheese, although surprisingly the hit of the party food-wise was caramel corn, of all things. i don't think any of us take the our own little wine tastings seriously because none of us have a ton of money to actually buy something good, nor can we resist spending a little as possible on so many wine options here that are insanely cheap. i think all of us tried to buy the cheapest wine in the nicest looking bottles. my contribution was a 2.49-euro cahors which tasted like absolute shit, but hey, it was cheap!

i didn't end up leaving until about 11:45, and after walking home it was 12:15-- too late for me if i have class the next day (grrr!) and since i've been sick. i'm feeling better but i still have this constant cough (which reminds me of constant comment tea-- ha ha) and i'm so bloody tired after doing the smallest things. vitamin c to the rescue.

i've been tutoring for a girl in a post-bac school program who is studying to get into air traffic control school like her dad. she's very sweet, only 17, having skipped a grade in middle school, smart as a whip, strawberry blonde hair, glasses and pale skin. i knew instantly we'd be friends. it's a joy to tutor her-- she's receptive and gets things quickly and is curious to learn as much as possible. she also keeps me on my toes about picky grammatical things-- the differences of "who," "whom," "whose" and "who's," etc. we meet once a week on thursday nights for about an hour and each time her family implores me to stay for dinner.

i didn't stay at first because i felt a little awkward eating their food after collecting my pay. it seemed a little... unprofessional. but then i realized how i'd most likely offend them if i didn't stay-- it's how things are here in france: "of course you should stay for dinner, it's dinner time and you've just worked for an hour with our daughter. sit down!"

so last night i stayed and experienced the famous french hospitality. after offering me an aperitif, the first course was cream of leek soup, of which i got two huge ladles; next was a baked ham and cheese pasta casserole with plenty of homemade bread and bordeaux wine, followed by a small cheese course and fruit or yogurt for dessert. it was all very simple food but it tasted so good-- someone else made it, making it involved an oven (something i do not have in my studio apartment), it was hot and tasty. i was tremendously grateful-- it was so good to eat wholesome yummy food after being sick for so long. i savoured it and ate slow but also realized that everyone else was finished before me because they gave me so much. so nice.

the family is definitely a matriarchal unit. dad is rather goofy-- with his poofy hair and little glasses, he eats fast and makes little jokes all the while. the three girls, ages 14-17, are so typical: the oldest one, who i tutor, is the only redhead in a sea of brunettes; she's literally the golden child of the family and is extra hard on herself. she kept remarking how crappy it was that she received a bad mark on her math test. middle sister is feisty and asked me a number of questions in english, such as, "do americans regard celebrities as gods?" and "does the CIA really spy on people?" she was a hoot. youngest sister is by far the most awkward-- a beauty in the making but still trying to grow into her face; she's shy but observant. and mother-- all business. did i have enough soup? would i like more pasta? is everyone taken care of here? she rarely smiled and was seemingly very serious, but everyone listened when she spoke, and it was apparent that she cares for everyone immensely and is the lifeblood of the family.

dad left after dinner to do some work, youngest sister showed me how she trained her dog to do crazy tricks, everyone asked me if i wanted anything more to eat.

it's a bit daunting to show up at someone's dinner table and integrate yourself into conversation and the nuances of another family. multiply this by 15 when it's in another language. god, never have i wanted my french to be better than last night. it's so hard for me to not be able to let my personality shine through the language barrier. since i've been here i've realized how much of my charm and confidence relies on sarcasm, wit and references to television, movies and culture that many americans can recognize but that many french do not. there is no way to convey "oh. my. god! i am SO understanding how you can just hate high school, girl!!" the rhythms of the french and english languages are so different, and many things simply cannot be translated. i find myself becoming passionate about the weather just to convey some emotion and show some personality.

but it's fascinating nonetheless. and i am most definitely staying for dinner next week.

ps, this is my 100th blog entry!

i've been inspired by scents lately. i just read an article in the new yorker about a perfume maker who concocted the latest perfume for hermes, "un jardin sur le nil." it was fascinating-- the perfume uses green mango, lotus and lily, i think, to capture what the perfumer and his team experienced in egypt while researching. apparently mangoes smell a certain way before they're picked; about five minutes after picking the fragrance fades away. and that fleeting scent is in the perfume! one of my professors scored a sample at sephora and wore it today, and while i normally do not care for overly floral perfumes, this one is leveled out with a woody base. thanks to sephora, i now know that i prefer oriental fragrances-- orange flower, some wood, spicy base notes, dark shades.

i'm fascinated by perfume. there are so many that give me a headache so when i find one i like it's heaven. i love the idea of perfume-- that people want to apply something to their body in order to smell good. i don't mind basic people smell, but to think of the history of perfume and how long people have worn it... and how much it helps when someone doesn't smell that good. plus, it's pretty-- little glass bottles with the promise of smelling good, leaving an impression of you on someone else when you enter a room or when you leave something behind. i would like to work in a perfume house and learn how to make it. a more realistic goal is to become a certified aromatherapist when i get back home-- i've heard it's not all that hard to do.

the perfumes i like now are: roberto cavalli, joy by jean patou, l'occitane's tilleul (linden) water, fiorucci.

i've been thinking a lot about smells i really like and those i don't like, and thanks to an inspiration by jennie b's comment on my stinky post a few weeks ago, here are my lists.

what i like:

marshmallow, wet pavement, warm baguette, gasoline, garages, mangoes, b's cooking, the room after you peel an orange, campfires, a baby's head, lavender, unbrewed marco polo tea, unbrewed coffee, sauteed onions, hot and buttery garlic bread, b's hair, benefit dandelion blush powder, the smell of maine (especially when i walk out of the airport), ocean, linden, old lipstick, salon-in-vogue (they use aveda products), my mother's cinnamon rolls, hay, a new book, hawaiian tropic aloe vera lipbalm, pinapples.

what i loathe:

licorice, cat pee, fried dough from the carnival, blood meal, mont d'or cheese on my fingertips, when someone eats lay's potato chips on the back of the bus on a really rainy day, mcdonald's on the plane (smuggled in from the airport), wet peanut butter (as in, when you're washing off the knife), poo that doesn't belong to you, spit, too strong cheap perfume, when someone has bad breath and they're in your bubble, gel toothpaste, second hand stores, teenage sweat (particularly after a class with the door closed and the heat on high), perms, nail salons.

call the pope, it's finally warm. i know that reading about the weather isn't really interesting, but the dreary cold weather has had a lot to do with my glum mood for the past two months. spring is my favorite season. listen, i love me the summer but when spring arrives i feel like i can breathe again. today i am wearing a t-shirt and a light sweater and i am too hot. it's about 72 degrees out with a light breeze. here are some songs which come to mind: "i can see clearly now" by johnny nash; "sunshine on my shoulder" by john denver; "here comes the sun" by the beatles. cheesy, i know, but i don't care because it's way nice out!!

i am currently wearing a sample of that new hermes perfume and i really love it. it simply smells like france. i reminds me of something, or someone, from my past-- i can't put my finger on it, but i have a little vial tester to try out before i decide to buy it. so maybe after a few days i'll figure out what it reminds me of.

tonight is english night at a local pub. i'm looking forward to walking there in this lovely weather more than actually sitting inside that smoky joint. ah, well. no complaints from me on such a lovely day.

even though it feels like my french language has reached a plateau, every day i do learn something new-- little things that i don't end up forgetting. today i learned that i've been saying "i have to do my laundromat" ("il faut que je fasse ma laverie") instead of "i have to do my laundry." my friend taught me how to say it correctly: "il faut que je fasse ma lessive," which is also the correct way to say, "i have to do my laundry soap." huh.

so today was laundry day. i've started going to a new laundromat that is closer to my apartment. i'd been going to this wicked ghetto joint a little farther away-- i didn't switch because i'd finally figured out how to use the machines and didn't feel like learning a new system. but the ghetto laundry was pretty crappy-- always crowded, machines out of order, full of skeesy types who smoke and drink beer, etc. the new laundromat is much nicer-- about a euro more expensive but never crowded, machines that function, etc. and it wasn't difficult to learn the new system, yippie! funny thing at the new laundromat-- one day a guy came in, said hello to me, cracked open a can of cheap beer and stood up while reading the newspaper someone had left behind. only in france.

the weather is holding up-- still nice out-- gentle spring. god, it's doing wonders for my mood.

tonight i may see "before sunset"-- released last summer in america, it has finally made it across the ocean.

last night was a typical night for me-- saw a movie, grabbed a take-out sandwich for dinner, met some friends in a crowded irish pub for st. patrick's day, left at about 10 pm, walked home, dubbed around in the wind down period i have before going to sleep, turned off the light about 11:15, fell asleep shortly thereafter.

i had this dream that i was at H&M, trying on t-shirts. every time a new t-shirt went on, i'd hear a dog bark. t-shirt, dog bark, t-shirt, dog bark, over and over. i woke up confused-- why would there be a dog barking? i've never heard a dog barking before, and madame G who lives above me has cats (10 CATS!!), but no dogs, right?

wrong. mme G did have a dog-- a puppy by the sound of it-- yapping in the room right next to mine. not barking-- this dog was emitting the kind of YIPE! YIPE! song that cartoon characters make; it's the high pitched puppy bark that sounds like someone is shoving needles up the dog's nose. the frantic yipes were then interspersed with the most melancholic howling hommage to the moon i'd ever heard.

now. nearly every night mme G's cats wake me up-- either they're having some sort of territory fight or their scratching around in a chase on the linoleum above my head. whatever. i've grown accustomed to it and chalked it up to the shittiness of living in close quarters with neighbors and no carpet. but a yapper dog in the middle of the night-- there's only so much i can handle.

i layed in bed and thought, ok, i'm giving this 10 minutes, then i'm going over there. i lasted about 7 mintues. i looked at my clock-- it was 12:47 am. so i got out of bed, put on my shoes, grabbed my keys, walked outside in my pajamas and knocked on her door. i could see the silhouette of the dog behind the frosted glass pane and saw mme G approaching with her key. she cracked open the door.

"oui?"
yes, i said, in my craptacular french, i'm sorry to bother you so late and all but i'm trying to sleep and the dog is really loud in my room and it's very late at night.
does she apologize? no. she says something to the effect of:
"i found this dog in the street and he has no home. he was abandonned and i had to take him in. what am i to do?"
and i'm thinking, i don't give a shit what you do as long as the dog shuts up but i say, yes, i understand the dog is young and scared but really, it's so late, and i have class very early in the morning and it's impossible for me to sleep.

she said something else that i didn't understand and shut the door. i sulked back off to my room. she clearly had no sympathy for me because i had no sympathy for the dog. i love dogs-- believe me-- but barking dogs at 1 in the morning really stretch my patience. i believe she took the dog upstairs to her apartment (god only knows what her cats thought of their new roommate) but i could still hear the random yelp, and by that time, i was wide awake. i was awake until about 4, all seething and irritated. 6:30 this morning, yapper dog was brought back downstairs.

i appeared in my 8:00 class today bleary-eyed with 2 hours of sleep and carrying a mug of tea. it's totally inappropriate to bring hot drinks to class in france (they don't have the whole take-away coffee phenom here yet) but i didn't care. my students were fascinated. they asked, how did you bring that here? uh, i carried it. without a lid? yup. do you live far away? nope-- about 100 paces. what will you do with that mug when you're finished? carry it home, of course.

after lunch i took a four-hour nap. i later found out that the dog was going to the vet to see if it had a microchip and if not, was going to the stray animal refuge.

for the first time ever, i'm on the side of mme G's cats.

my old flatmate, j, came back this weekend from luxembourg for a visit. i realized just how much i'd missed him, how comfortable i am around him and how well our personalities mesh. it's so different compared to the new flatmate who moved in at the beginning of january.

first of all, what i mean by flatmate is this: there are two identical studio apartments separated by a hallway and a shared toilet. my room is blue and the other room is seafoam upchuck green. luckily i had the first choice on rooms.

anyway, j was the german assistant until the end of december when he decided to accept a job translating documents (for which organization i'm not sure) in luxembourg city. he thought it would be a better opportunity and better on his resume, etc. the school was not going to hire anyone to replace him until he thought of his friend, p, also from germany, who needed a job.

it was sad to see j go. the other assistants really liked him, too-- we'd all been together from the beginning and were a pretty tight-knit group. for me, it was nice to come home after class and have someone to talk to-- in french-- about my day, about the world, about the differences in france, about our significant others, etc. he was simply a good friend.

p is a nice person, but our personalities just don't mesh. we're very different. he always seems nervous or timid or like he's trying too hard and when he tells a joke it always falls flat or i don't get the punchline. we speak in english, which is good and bad-- good because i can end our conversations very quickly, bad because i'm not practicing my french nearly as much as i was with j. p eats a lot of vegetables-- he's a vegetarian, no problem there-- but i think he eats too many vegetables. i say this because he takes at least three shits a day. too much ruffage!! disgusting, i know, but it's the truth, and it grosses me out. he clears his throat all the time, tries to huck up post-nasal drip, listens to zamphir the panflute guy quite loudly at night (i once had to tell him to turn it down at 11:30 pm) and always locks the main door behind him if i'm home (something we talked about-- we agreed to leave the door unlocked if the other person is still at home so we're not locked in). he once asked me and the other assistants to the movies-- we all said no for our various reasons-- and he asked us each three more times during that week.

i feel bad. i told j about how i felt during his visit this weekend. he thought it was a shame but understood where i was coming from. i know p is a good person without a mean bone in his body. he even hauled home 12 liters of water for me when i had bronchitis, and he's always offering to help me out with that kind of stuff. i wish him only the best. but he isn't anyone i'd choose to be friends with. i've resigned myself to being polite and courteous-- i'll chat with him briefly, but only when i have to. the other girls don't like him either.

i'd gotten used to all this until j came back. god, i realized how much i miss coming home and having a conversation with someone-- with an ease that i've never felt with p.

i've always had this dream-- a goal, really-- of living simply, with very few things, just the basics. how much does one person need? this is hard for me. i'm a consumer, i'll admit it. there is always something i want, something i have my eye on, something that looks interesting, some new product i've read about. perhaps this means i'm not clinically depressed-- so i got that going for me. i'm also a bit of an impulse shopper, usually to a good end. sometimes i see the most perfect whatever and have to have it and do end up using it. but mostly i just accumulate things-- the act of buying and having something new and shiny is such a nice feeling that i keep repeating and repeating it.

this constant consuming always comes to a head when i'm about to move. what's funny is that as much as i love accumulating, i also love hoeing shit out of my space, getting rid of stuff, when in doubt: throw it out, that sort of thing. not in a wasteful way-- i always donate used clothing to charity, only throw out stuff that is no longer useful or cannot be recycled or is rotting, and if it still is useful, i try to find someone who could use it. sometimes, though, i wonder if i enjoy hoeing things out so much because it just means making more space for new stuff-- thus the cycle begins all over again.

here in france i don't have much-- i didn't bring too much to begin with but i have accumulated a fair share of STUFF. most of it is useful, like sweaters and socks and gloves and hats-- things i realized soon after winter began that i needed. but what about the books? christ. yes, i needed them-- i felt starved for something in english to read during this long cold boring winter, but now what? i think i may donate some of them to the local library. but at the same time i am very attached to my books-- it's the one thing i allow myself to become attached to (well, also lipgloss and tea, but who's counting?).

i'm nearly mad at myself for my accumulation. it was all about comfort. surrounding myself with comfortable things, building up my comfort zone in a foreign land when i spend a lot of time alone-- i'm mad at myself... and not at the same time. we all have to have a certain amount of comfort-- it's just the amount that i'm trying to work on. and yikes! it's expensive to ship home.

i have loads of time on my hands here. i love it. i can indulge in reading and letter-writing and walking and window shopping and writing in my journal and just thinking about things. in the spirit of lists, here are the books i've read since coming to france:

"white teeth" by zadie smith. she's a year older than i am and wrote this fabulous, subtle book when she was 23 or something. good lord.

"the amazing adventures of kavalier and clay" by michael chabon. the first book i've read in quite some time that i actually didn't want to end. it fueled my budding interest in comic books, was effortless to read, heartbreaking, superb. enough that i toyed with reading it again. (the books i've reread: "flowers in the attic" by v.c. andrews (hey, i was in 7th grade. um, and i've read it three times.), "it" by stephen king (really fucking brilliant, really!) and "the body" by stephen king, which, upon reading the last page, i immediately turned right back to the first page and started again.)

"middlesex" by jeffrey eugenides. i love when someone takes a taboo subject and explains it carefully while treating it with respect. i flew through this book. it made me want to visit michigan. weird, huh?

"empire falls" by richard russo. were my expectations were a little too high? perhaps. it was a little slow and the whole school shooting thing felt a little tired, maybe because we've been so inundated with them recently. nonetheless, it was worth finishing.

"snow falling on cedars" by david guterson. the expectations thing again, except this time, they worked in my favor. i thought the movie was relatively boring but had heard good things about guterson, so i bought it in antibes. (i almost bought "the blind assassin" by margaret atwood, but the bookstore clerk told me wasn't very good.) i thought "snow falling" was so tender and sad, and i really loved allt he imagery of nature. plus, it takes place in the northwest, so i had that going for me.

"stupid white men" by michael moore. one of my professors lent it to me. depressing and compelling. at least moore throws in some humor to make the sad facts go down a little easier.

"the virgin suicides" by jeffrey eugenides. i was so impressed with "middlesex" and psyched to find this in the city library. i enjoyed it-- more detailed than the movie, with wry humor that didn't convey itself in the film. but hard not to picture kirsten dunst as lux.

"the cider house rules" by john irving. i brought this from home because of its small size. it's the first irving book i've read-- the dude can write. puts the movie to shame. ripped through it.

"fugitives and refugees" by chuck palahniuk. it's about my home!! i read it in december when the homesickness was starting to kick in and it was comforting to read about familiar places. it's snarky but not overly pretentious-- chuck p. may be a weird bird but he's no posing hipster. thank god. (that's one thing i don't miss about home!)

"the love of a good woman" by alice munro. jesus christ. i only wish i could write short stories like this woman. they're so alive. sometimes short stories make me weary-- i'd almost rather read a magazine or a good "new yorker" article-- but these are really superb. can't wait to get my hands on "runaway" when i get home.

"me: stories of my life" by katharine hepburn. i saw "the aviator" and my interest in hepburn was piqued. plus, it was at the library. it was entertaining and honest. she definitely writes like an insider, though, dropping names of people i do not know and have never heard of but somehow feel like i should. or not.

and the one i am currently reading: "jimmy corrigan: the smartest kid on earth" by chris ware. it's a comic book-- but not really-- er-- it has illustrations but they're so heartbreaking that it feels more like a movie on pages. god. go and get this book from the library. i first came to like chris ware after i read one of his comics in "the new yorker" a couple of years ago. some of the expressions on the faces of his characters are absolutely devastating. i've been brought to tears a few times. even though i am going to TRY to not buy so many books anymore, i may get this one because i know i'm going to want to read it again.

next up is "breakfast at tiffany's" by truman capote, which i found at the city library. my faith in libraries has been restored. i used to not like the idea that i had a time limit on books, but now, i'm realizing how much i hate having to haul my books around every time i move, or worse yet, ship some of them home from here (though i still hope to donate some to the local library). dad tells me that nowadays you can reserve books online and they will even send them to your home for a small fee in my hometown. cool. yeah, duh! libraries are cool, of course!

when g, my main professor here at school, visits america, he's always very surprised at the age of people still working-- in the grocery stores, retail, whatever. it makes him uncomfortable to have an elderly person offer to bring his groceries to the car-- he's more capable to do it himself and finds the whole situation disrespectful to the elderly. by contrast, what i find surprising is how many elderly people here still are still very much independent and active and doing everyday things-- riding bicycles, walking home with groceries, holding hands with their spouses on a walk through the outdoor market on sundays (it's nice to see people still in love after all that time-- in love enough to show it by holding hands, at least). i don't see much of this in the states-- why is that? when was the last time i saw an elderly person riding a bike? (without a helmet, no less.) are they afraid of breaking? do you become absolutely inactive past a certain age? or are their kids afraid for their frail parents?

sometimes i feel like i have this very limited time as an american in which i'm the shit-- socially accepted, listened to, empowered, respected, active, cute, fashionable, feisty, whatever. it's about between the ages of 18 to 40. youth rules and it seems like most americans view their elders as big pains in the ass who don't get it, are too slow, shouldn't be driving, are out of touch.

wha? this blows. who do you look to for advice if not someone older and wiser than you? my dad always tells me that the older he gets, the more what his old man told him makes sense. it's the same for me. when this current older generation goes, so goes with it a real fucking history of life before internet and moby, life during the depression and war, life before the suburbs. what a loss.

here's something i'll miss: most everything moves at a slower pace here. today at the grocery store, i was first in line at the cashier. the cashiers do not bag your groceries for you at this particular store-- you do. she waited until i had unloaded all my stuff before starging to ring it through, but i still struggled to keep up with her while bagging my stuff. i'm not used to bagging so i'm a little slow. i was hurrying because there was a line building up behind me but then i wondered, why am i rushing? what's the hurry? it's perfectly acceptable to go slow in the grocery store-- it's the norm. the cashier waited until i had bagged the last of my purchases before telling me my total. she wasn't hurrying me nor was she annoyed or rolling her eyes that i was going slow. it was nice! goddamnit, i like the pace here! i'm tired of rushing! except, of course, at the post office.