Sunday, August 31, 2008

Thinkin´ Incan

W.O.W. This weekend was stuffed full of culture, history, fun, more fun, a little pleasure, a healthy dose of entertainment, many amusing antedotes, and a smattering of bonding.

Friday, I taught my first mini-lesson. I was slightly nervous, due to the fact that, 1. I had never met my students before, 2. I had no idea how much english they knew, and 3. I had never taught an english lesson before. Despite my fears that the students would fiercely mock me as my lesson capsized, it actually went realtively smoothly.

Friday night, we all met up in front of the huge church in Plaza de Armas. Although chilly, nights in Cusco are absolutely gorgeous. The churches are illuminated, and the town is buzzing with activity, street vendors, and tourists. We even met children, all alone, selling little finger puppets and handwoven hats with a nearly commanding attitude.

We started off at a small bar in San Blas, where we tried the local drink, the pisco sour. I thought they were alright; the egg white and sugar were a little too much for me. Others drank the local beer, Cusqueña, which is made frome the water of the mountain springs. After listening to a local jazz band with an exceptional saxophone player, we headed to the uber popular Mama Africa, dance club of the touristas cusqueñas . On our way, we were literally bombarded by a group of young men, trying to get us to to to this bar or that club, and stuffing numerous free drink coupons in our hands as incentives. Pulled choaticly in different directions, we managed to grab hold of eachother, and, in desperation, I cried,¨just go wherever they take us first!¨ Against all odds, we ended up at Mama Africa, and thusly twarted the sometimes excessive friendliness of the Cusqueños.

Saturday, Kaitlin, Meghann, and I took a city tour. We started off tour the huge cathedrals, which were stunning in their ornate gold decoration. One church, called the Koricancha, was once an incan temple, dedicated to the sun god. The spanish destroyed most of it, and built a catholic chruch over it; during the last big earthquake in 1950, the spanish temple collapsed, but the incan walls still stand. The incans built earthquake proof buildings, using heavy stones from a nearby quarry, concave and convex shapes in the rocks, and an inclination in the walls. It´s unbeleivable how advanced this ancient culture was.

Next, we went to the famous Sacsayhuaman , pronounced ¨Sexy Woman,¨ and saw the view of Cusco from the top. This was dedicated to the ligntning god, the god of fertility. The biggest stone, a corner in the zigzag shape (again, lightning) of the temple, wieghs over 150 tons! We sw llamas there, too! After that, we made our way to Q'enko, which is the quarry were the incans got most of the stones to build. Here, in a underground room, the incans made thier more important sacrafices to the puma god, god of the earth. There were two types of sacrafices. For everyday sacrificing, the incans slaughtered alpacas, llamas, or other animals. The drained their blood and mixed it with Chicha, the sacred drink of the incas. It´s made of corn and some alcohol. For the more desperate occasions, they celebrated human sacrifices. The sacrifice would get drunk on chicha, and they would cut open her (yes, they were normally women, though only men were allowed to witness the sacrificing rites) chest and pull out the beating hear. My tour guides words, not mine.

Next on the list was Puca Pucara, an old fort much higher than Cusco. The incans would use conches or fire to communicate with Tambomachay, which was our next stop. This was a temple dedicated to the water god, who was very important, because she fertilized Pachamama, the incan mother earth. For what I´ve heard, Pachamama was one of the most important gods. Tambomachay has 3 levels of water fountains, forming a very small pool at the bottom. What is so fascinating about this sight is that, to this day, no one really knows where the water comes from. It hasn´t stopped in over 6 hundred years. According to incan custom, if you drink the water, you live the rest of your life in drunken happiness. Needless to say, each of us took a long draught of the cool, pure, mountain spring water.

Feeling dissappointed at the lack of effect of the magic incan water, we visited an Alapaca factory. The goods were a lot more expensive here, but certified real alpaca wool, unlike the goods that you can find all over the little shops in Cusco. I looked for a sweater for my mom, but was unsucessful.

Grabbing coffee, we met with a large group in Plaza de Armas, and went to an amazing theater production about incan myths, traditional cusqueñan dress, and history. It was captivating and unbelievably beautiful! Afterwards, we went to a traditional restaurant, where I ordered Alpaca meat for the first time in my life. Honestly, it tasted like dry pork. I am looking foward to trying guniea pig, another peruvian specialty. I´m saving that for when my dad comes to visit next weekend... that way he can´t say no. Muahahaha.

Today, I got up and went walking. I felt like I just didn´t know the layout of the city, and that didn´t sit well with me. I ended up walking for about 4 hours though central Cusco, taking in the busy markets, mass at one of the famed cathedrals, the insistant street vendors, and so much more. I really do enjoy this city.

Well, I should get going. I´m meeting a group at El Molino, the huge market in my neighborhood. They have EVERYTHING for really cheap, especially if your haggling skills are up to par. DVDs for 4 sols, CDs for 5, clocks, sunglasses, clothes, electronics, video games, toiletries, anything you can dream up. It´s a lot of fun! After, we are going out to eat. We´re thinking something like pizza... a little taste of home after a long, culture-intensive weekend.

Thursday, August 28, 2008

Llama Yo´ Mama, and Other Plans

Yesterday night was a blast. For someone who loves trivia, as well as going out, it was the perfect combination. Through 6 rounds of sangria and themed trivia (like science, geography, and entertainment) Kaitlin, Gloria, and I bonded with everyone in the tiny, british pub. Although we came in second to last (the trivia was SO obscure!), we had a great time. Our team name was ¨Llama Yo´Mama¨which the bartender giggled at each time she shouted it out to find our scores. Ist place for most creative name EVER.

Today, class was so long. It´s the first day in a while that I´ve had to sit through lectures, and, in combination with the lack of sleep (jet lag induced... still waking up at 3 am, blaaaaah), it was quite tough to keep my eyes open. We talked about EFL techniques, how to question students correctly, and lots of other stuff. Very interesting day, especially while simultaneously battling with my increasingly heavy eyelids.

I have my first mini-lesson tomorrow, which I am a little worried about. I´ll be teaching to a group of 6 students, and the topic is so generic that it´s going to be so hard to plan. I know that teachers think that ¨generic¨is key word for ¨going easy,¨but no, sire, ´tis not. 100 x more thinking time involved, darn it. I was hoping to watch a movie with all of the volunteers in my house.

This weekend, the girls and I (5 young and fun travelers in my TEFL class) are going to hike up to see some ruins. Saturday, we are going to see one that is pronounced ¨Sexy Woman¨and then to see a play at night, depicting the ancient gods, dress, and culture of Peru. Sunday, perhaps some museums, and church at Plaza de Armas. Of course, some bars and dancing stuck in there somewhere. Garunteed great weekend, if you ask me.

I got a picture infront of the remaining ancient incan wall in Cusco (with all 12 angled stones in remarkably good condition), with a fully costumed incan chief. It is AWESOME. I wish my internet worked here... I won´t be able to put up any of the quickly accumulating pictures until after I return home. Oh well, the sacrafices of living South America are nothing against it´s perks.

Across the World in 3 Days

Since my last entry, things have dramatically changed for me. Like, WORLDS differerent.

First, I finally escaped France alive. Mom was curiously kind to me as I left, as if she had no idea how horrible she had made these past few months. Chatting with me like we were best friends, and encouraging me to write the kids, she sent me out the door that early Saturday morning. After an extremely akward, yet pleasant, ride with Dad (during which I pictured my sister giggling uncontrollably at the akwardness) I arrived at the airport. After purchasing some expensive wine and chocolate for my parents, I boarded the plane with an exuberant energy pulsing through my viens. I was FREE.

The flight was so long, but my anxiety was lessened by Enriquo, the 60 something italian sitting next to me. He bought me wine bottle after wine bottle, and within the hour we were drunk. He was absolutely hilarious, baring that italian extrovertedness that can make anyone laugh. I slept for maybe an hour, a small amount given I hadn´t slept the night before (¨Am I REALLY getting out of here?¨).

After two hours of immigration, baggage claim, and customs, I finally fell into my parents arms. It was so wonderful to see them again, yet surreal.

I spent a sleepless night in Miami, attributed to the still lingering energy in my body, and then repacked everything and headed again to the airport. I flew to Panama City, then to Lima, then to Cusco. Overall travel time: 17 hours. Ask me if I´m jet lagged. I dare you.

Throughout my stay in France, I was so preocuppied with, well, hating it, that I completely forgot to be excited about Cusco. When I left the airport, I was stunned at how gorgeous everything was. Completely enclosed by the Andes, it seems isolated from all western influence. I was taken to Maximo Nivel, the school I´ll be taking the TEFL course at. Everyone was so friendly! After getting a quick tour, I was taken to The Family House, one of many bed and breakfasts through out the city. I have my own room and bathroom, and all meals prepared for me everyday. It is so wonderful, and such a change from France. There are about 15 people living here with me, all of which are volunteers in the city. Many interesting people.

My first day here, after not sleeping in 3 days, consisted of a crash. I slept for every 18 hours, and then 15 the next night, with the odd nap thrown it. I did get a chance to walk around a bit, and found an awesome touristy indoor mall. There are so many alpaca goods that I want to buy, and so cheap! All of the shop owners were so friendly, inviting me to ¨Pasa, senoritaI was nearly forced to buy an alpaca blanket from an extremely smooth and overbearing salesman, who happened to be 11 years old.

Today was my first day of class. We have 9 of us, and each person brings their own experiences and personality. It is a really fun group! I can tell that we will be really close after this month. The class seems semi-intense, but, having just graduated with a degree in education, I dont´think it will be too bad. We have class 9-12, and then from 1-3. Today, in place of the 1-3 session, we took a practical tour of Cusco.

The Plaza de Armas is stunning. The Plaza de San Blas has a ton of really cute restaurants. We went to the red market, El Molino, where you can buy anything knockoff that you can dream of. I bought the Office, Season 4, and 2 other movies for 20 sols, or about 8 dollars. I will definatley be going back there! YAY for awesome exchange rates!

For a cab fare of 2.50 sols, I can get anywhere within the city. I can get a 3 course menu during lunch for less than 8 sols. Priceless: The wonderful feeling that you are not going to go broke.

Everywhere I look, the gorgeous mountain scenery astounds me. I won´t be able to get pictures up until after I leave (my computer has rejected the wireless here at school), which is a bummer. This small city is unbelievable! Which is why I am getting off the computer, and going to soak it in.

Thursday, August 21, 2008

Of Loss and Muttering

Day 3 has come and gone, and Day 2 is half over. This week is flying by, thank GOODNESS. The anticipation of leaving this prison of a home is depriving me of my sleep and causing me to constantly mutter 'Day 2, Day 2, Day 2' under my breath when something goes wrong. Arthur, 5, even asked me what 'Day 2' meant in English. 'Pourquoi tu dis ça?' he asks. I told him he was saying it wrong ("I was saying 'I LOVE you,' not 'Day 2,' cheré") and that I say it because I am so sad about leaving. Double lie; what has this place done to my moral standards?

Today, Phillippine is with the tutor while the others are at the center, so for the two hours after, in which we are alone, I am taking her to Val D' Europe. I love shopping, she loves shopping, so, by golly, we are going shopping! I need to find a new pair of sunglasses; mine mysteriously disappeared at the campagne this weekend. After a whole year together (a record time for me), I feel naked without them. They were a part of me, a core accessory to my everyday outfit. I received compliment after compliment on my signature shades. They proportioned perfectly to my face, with just the right tint to make the world appear lovelier, happier, more beautiful place (no, they were not rose-colored). Seriously, major depressing loss on my part.

I also lost my favorite jeans here. What's up with that?! Who loses pants?

Argh!

Day 2, Day 2, Day 2....

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Your Daily Dose of Prose

Day Four, Day Four, it’s finally come!
It’s almost over, this horrible run
The parents SUCK but the kids are quite fun
Day Four, Day Four, just get’r dun.

I feel good, I feel gay*
Mom can scream all she wants today
Her kids can tell she's a bit cray-zay
Puton**… peut pas parler.

I rolled the kids out of bed ‘round eight
I hugged them, dressed them, then we ate
Took one to the tutor, and then we wait
They watch TV, I wash and scrape.***

Après we had our midday meal
Pasta and cookies made them squeal
They said they love me, it made me feel
So happy, because I know it’s real.

Then they left for the afternoon
Margaret and I talked ourselves blue
Through the phone, my mom talked too
I even ate the forbidden food!****

How quickly this hour has already come
Get the kids, cook and clean, then some
Mom will freak if I leave a crumb
Day Four, Day Four, just get’r dun.




*Not THAT kind of gay…

**A French swear word, one of many that I have learned here. Given that the children swear like sailors, I would say that my education is rather complete.

***I am normally left with the dinner mess and parents’ breakfast dishes each morning, but today the kitchen was an exceptional, rather impressive, disaster. Four huge, dirty pots and numerous cutlery cluttered the stove and filled sink; papers and random items were scattered aimlessly over every surface; dirty dishes laid beside the open and dirty dishwasher; the breakfast dishes, cereal, and milk from the parent’s meal remained on the table. It took about an hour of intense cleaning to finish a job I am definitely not being paid to do.

****The parents have a shelf in the refrigerator, with the unspoken rule that the food there is forbidden to anyone but themselves. However, I am sick of eating the unhealthy crap-food that is left to the general public. They have no other meat in the house, so I took one of many packets of ham from their shelf and ate it. They have no fruit of veggies in the “common” area of the fridge, so I ate half a melon from the ”VIP” section. I even had a bowl of the only healthy cereal, which Mom had hidden, but, due to my cunning detective skills, I found in an adjacent cabinet. So, yeah, I'm pretty bad.

Monday, August 18, 2008

Roller Coaster Week

Buckle up for a long, bumpy ride; this past week has been quite an eventful and emotional one, to say the least!

The weekend before last, which happened to be my last free weekend, Margaret once again took me under her wing and made sure I had some memories of France that didn’t bring a sick feeling to the pit of my stomach.

Saturday morning, Mom, in her never ending attempts to put me in my place, slept in as I got up early to take Philippine to tutoring. I dropped her off, and went for a run, accidentally discovering a shortcut to the gym via a road I have always seen and wondered, flabbergasted, where the heck it came from and how the heck I could take it. Returning to the car and taking my newfound way, I worked out at the gym, and then headed to the mall; the rest of my allowance was burning a hole in my pocket. Desperately uninspired, I failed to spend a remaining 80 euros, which will now go toward Chinese visa purchases. So, not a total waste of a day.

I then headed to Margaret’s house. I met one of her daughters, an extremely friendly Parisian. She was about 30, and had a great sense of humor. I realized halfway through a long conversation that I had reached that point in my French: fluency. I understood everything she said (very rapidly spoken) and responded back with a good vocabulary, accent, and grammar. I couldn’t believe it! I speak French! Et Voila!

After an easy croc monsieur meal, we piled into the car and drove to downtown Paris. We saw the city at night, which was more romantic, beautiful, and crowded that I ever imagined. The Tour Eiffel is stunning with its lightshow, the Place de San Michael glorious with its enormous fountain illuminating the grand statue of the Saint. The Champs Elysees is alive and crawling with visitors, all of the stores staying open until midnight. Unfortunately, circling the Place des Etoiles (the huge traffic circle wrapping the Arc de Triomphe) the car began to smoke. We pulled over to the side and exited.

Now, Margaret always drives. Her husband, Pierre is a little quirky, likes to drink, and has bad vision (but neglects to wear glasses). He seemed completely clueless on what to do as Margaret began to telephone the insurance. I noted that we should probably open the hood. He shook his head in disagreement. A friendly motorist advised from his car that we should probably open the hood, and Pierre vigorously agreed. He approached the car, and began to promptly yank on the opposite side of the hood, the side bordering the windshield. Completely bewildered, I informed him that, in fact, the hood opens from this direction. After fumbling for a few seconds with the front grill, I took matters into my own hands and opened the hood. He watched, amazed, as I propped it open; I watched, amazed, as a 60-something man examined a car engine, and the black oil marks on his hand, for what seemed to be the first time.

Monday, Antoine informed me that I would be going to the campagne (the grandparents’ mansion in Sologne) with the kids that week. We parted Tuesday morning when a chauffuer appeared at the front door. We spent the next few days playing and eating well and in good company. It was quite enjoyable, though exhausting. Thursday night, the parents arrived, and that’s when everything changed.

Now, this is my theory as to why the Mom has completely abandoned all civilities with me. When I wrote my letter of resignation to the American au pair agency, I outlined all of the things that were wrong with my situation and the family. I noted that the parents did not treat me like an equal, but left their breakfast dished and pots and pans from the night before for me to clean. I described how Mom never said thank you, but found something to criticize no matter how hard I worked. I detailed how the parents spend less than an hour with their kids every day, normally yelling at them for talking or not wearing slippers. I explained how the kids battled incessantly, hitting each other, swearing, and disregarding my every word. I called the situation “dysfunctional,” and said that I was incredibly unhappy. Not a single lie in the letter, nor a single exaggeration. In fact, I thought it was very filtered, saying only what was necessary to justify my cause.

Now, my relationship with the kids has improved immensely; we are very attached. They regard me very highly now and listen to what I say, telling me how much they love me frequently throughout the day. I truly enjoy playing and laughing with them. I almost started crying today knowing I was leaving them with these parents, who don’t want to play with them, spend time with them, or really know them at all. It is such a sad childhood for these three truly special children.

Anyway, the American agency sent the letter to the French agency, who, in an act that completely disregarded all rules of confidentiality and proper conflict resolution, forwarded the letter straight to Mom. We ended up resolving everything, but I thought throughout the vacation that it had been to easy; the letter had stated some very strong things about the family.

Returning from the vacation, I believe that she had the letter translated. It was then that she began to hate me for saying those things. Although not 100% certain, I strongly believe this is the cause of the dissipation of our relations and the beginning of the Age of Mind Games and Full-Throttle Bitch Mode.

Back to the weekend, everything was wonderful before the parents arrived. Friday, after returning from a long morning of playing with the kids, everyone (the grandparents, aunts, and uncles) stopped talking as I entered the room. Seeing Mom in the center, I knew what had happened. She had told them about the letter, twisting their vision of me in her favor. The cold stares I received were a just indication of what the weekend would bring.

No one talked to me for the next few days. I received cold looks, critiques on the work I had done (improperly wiped the table, for example, when I really had no obligation at all to clean up after the parents anyway), and tons of extra work from Mom. I had a stomach virus for 2 days, which did not allow me to eat anything, but I was not relieved of any duties, offered any medicine, nor condolences. Upon departure Sunday morning, everyone fawned over the kids beside and behind me. They reached over me through the window, telling the kids how much they would be missed, while glaring at, or ignoring all together, the au pair, parting permanently in a week. When we finally left, I sucked in the tears pooling in my eyelashes in with all of my strength. Although I find humor in many situations, and am able to combat most everything the Mom bring on, it doesn’t change the fact that this has been the most mentally taxing experience of my life.

Arriving home on Sunday, I thought that I might get the day off, as I had not had one off since last Sunday, However, since I was technically not working a full week this week (I leave on Saturday!!!!!), Mom decided to put me to work. After complaining about how dirty the kitchen was as though it were my fault (despite the fact that I hadn’t been there for 5 days, it was I who had cooked meals and not washed the pots, nor loaded the dishwasher, nor taken out the garbage, nor cleaned up my breakfast dishes, which, by the way, were still on the table, stinking of rotting milk, when we arrived), she set me to work. While she and Dad sat around, I was forced to clean (with the kids… but honestly, do kids clean?) their rooms, which looked as if they had been recently struck by a tornado. I organized the library, which had apparently fallen victim as well to said storm, and was forced to vacuum all the floors with the vacuum that doesn’t work. I was then yelled at for a white dot on the floor, which I wasn’t sure was mine… and she had the nerve to shake her finger and tell me to clean up after myself!

I finally got the chance to sit around 9 pm. Oh la la.

Today, I made sure everything was perfect when she arrived. She came in, and her kids surprised her in costume (we had just finished playing). Not listening to their stories of the day, but yelling for them to calm down instead, she examined the kitchen. I watched eagerly to discover what I could have done wrong. Countertops spotless. Cupboards arranged. Sink and dishwasher empty. The kids and I sat down to eat… and then it happened.

She stormed up the steps and demanded to know why I had not turned on the alarm between 5:20 and 5:40 when I went to pick up the kids. I tried to hide a smirk, for she had printed out the hours that the alarm had been set today, in an act of desperation to find something that I didn’t do right. I stated that I thought that leaving the house for 5 minutes made it voluntary (the door is locked, and the property surrounded by a huge wall and gate). She screamed at me in front of her kids about not punching the code. I returned her yells with quiet raised eyebrows and relaxed mouth. I looked at Antoine mid- rant; the incredulous look on his face at his mother’s fanatics had struck a nerve. It took all I had not to laugh at his expression.

And so ends Day 5. You may now un-buckle and descended from the coaster car.

Saturday, August 9, 2008

The Return of the Mad Scientist; Mona Lisa and Chinese Food Have Never Been Better

In lieu of my remaining 2-week sentence here, as well as the rapidly decreasing civility regarding the mom’s treatment of me, I celebrated yesterday. I took a train to the Louvre, and, after searching for a half an hour for the doors, I had a stroke of genius (“The PYRAMIDS! THAT'S the key!”), and went to feed that inspiration with some uber-famous art.

I saw Mona Lisa from afar, among a huge crowd gathered around the roped off area. I saw Venus de Milo, and sculptures by Michelangelo. I saw Egyptian art, and tons of European painters. It was exhausting, but very nice. The Louvre is absolutely enormous, and in two hours I had barely covered a sixth of it. I then commenced to shop. Les Halles is a famous underground shopping area, and had a lot of great stores. I left with a giddy sort of feeling. I just love shopping.

The past week, the only thing that has kept me sane was the invigorating idea that my departure was visible in the distance. I am able to greet horrendous fights and frequent blackmailing by the children with indifference. I enjoy my solidarity by beginning to pack, however slightly. Most of all, I simply adore observing Mom, and watching eagerly to see what her next move against me will be. This past week was a series of mind games and attempts to mentally push me into the dirt; I once again put on my lab coat and ran a few tests to collect data, with a few laughs mixed in.

Wednesday, Antoine informed me that I was taking the kids on a picnic. Nowadays, I receive all instruction indirectly from the children, with whom the mother still talks. I was also informed that cousins would be joining us, with their fille au pair, Daria. Daria and I get a long very well. She is a nice, Polish girl with many of my same interests. Delighted at the news I would be seeing her that afternoon, my spirits lifted at once.

At the park of Langy, the weather was gorgeous. I watched the kids play for hours, with a few moments in between to talk to Daria. She was watching Mateur, 2, and thus was forced to wander aimlessly around the park following his incessant footsteps.

Now, I knew that since the aunt and uncle were in town, the parents were going to go out to dinner. My current count is 3 dinners out and 1 movie sans invitation. So, knowing that they had to invite me to this one (it was too obvious to the other family not to invite me), my day got even better than it had already been.

Once everyone had arrived at home, Mom turned to me and demanded, “Are you coming or going somewhere?” (in French of course). I looked thoughtfully up at the ceiling. “Hm,” I said, pretending to be at a crossroads. “I think I’ll come,” as if I could honestly turn down Chinese food.

Walking to the car, I groaned at the coming awkwardness of sitting next to her in the front seat. But, to my amusement, she ordered Antoine to sit next to her, and me in the back with the other kids. Now, Antoine was not allowed EVER to sit in the front seat. I was always next to her. Mentally, she was toying with me. A demotion to the back seat strictly indicates that I am, by no means, her equal or her friendly acquaintance. Recognizing the beginning of a long tournament of play, I grinned to myself and looked out the window.

I quickly planned my next move. Walking from the car to the restaurant, Philippine began to talk to me about something. I loving put my arm around her, and responded with enthusiasm. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mom’s head flick to the side, and heard her curt voice call her daughter over. She the proceeded to chat about something, at the same time putting her arm around her in exact imitation of me.

Quickly, as time was of the essence, I targeted the next child in line, Antoine. I asked him, in friendly tones, what his favorite dish in the Chinese restaurant was. He had just begun to tell me all about this pasta dish that he loved when, right on schedule, Mom snapped that we would not be ordering that pasta tonight. She had already discarded Philippine from her grasp.

At the entrance of the restaurant, Arthur presented me with another stimulus. He gave me a big hug, and lingered in my embrace. “Arret, Arthur… Stop” came her voice. Honestly, it took everything I had not to laugh. What kind of game is she playing? And how dull does she think I am that I am oblivious to her blatant intentions?

Later, she refused to order ice cream for the kids, knowing she would have to offer me some. This is the first time in the history of summer that the kids have ever gone with out ice cream with their parents. In the car ride on the way home, I chose to sit in the back with the kids, though the front seat was vacant. The kids and I talked in low tones, and I laughed whole-heartedly at their silly selves. This chumminess was apparently prohibited; the command from the front seat told us to stop and be quiet.

All in all, all of the tests that I ran came out positive (depending on how you look at it). Mom wants nothing more than to make me feel unwanted and inferior, and wants the kinds to know who is the boss. However, one needs to keep in mind that, though you might drive the car, you are not necessarily in the front seat.

Unfortunately for her, I already called shotgun.

Monday, August 4, 2008

And the "Best Weekend Ever" award goes to...

This weekend was, by far, the best weekend I have had yet in France.

Friday night, although all I wanted to do was sleep away the frustration that had built up all week, I forced myself out of the house to go to a BBQ held by Margaret. It was Switzerland’s (her home country) national holiday, and she had invited over a few friends. Gwen and Laure were there with their family, which made me feel very happy. We ate and talked until 1am. It was really nice!

Saturday, it rained. I was planning to go to Paris to see the Louvre, but I refuse to go when it’s raining. So instead, I hit the mall to do some shopping. I bought a really cute sweater, a couple shirts, 3 DVDs (The Prestige, Little Miss Sunshine, and Rocky I), a CD, and lunch. It was a lot of fun to let loose and spend some of that money I have earned. I also had a cause to celebrate; August 2nd marked my 3-week ticket to freedom.

That night, I ate dinner with Margaret, and then drove to meet Gwen and Laure. We arrived in Paris around 10:30, and were lucky enough to find a parking spot. It was my first night out in Paris. Although seemingly impossible, the city is more beautiful by night. We loitered by the Seine among crowds of people, young and old. The Eiffel tower was visible in the distance, and we caught the end of the terrific light show.



We then headed to a small bar, when we had a drink and talked. I got home to Margaret's house around 3:30am; she had invited me to spend the night there. I tucked in to a magnificent bed and slept until noon.

When I woke up, I headed down to say good morning. What a good morning it was! She had prepared Swiss brioche, which is a delicious type of bread. We ate some with homemade confiture, or jam. After this delicious meal, I chatted a little with her husband, and then we ate lunch. After the stew, we tasted several different cheeses, a sweet white wine, and completed the meal with yogurt as dessert. I returned home around 5pm.



Exhausted, I said hello of the kids and was curtly greeted my Geraldine. I don’t know why she was mad at me this time, but I’ve stopped caring. Then, after watching a film, Antoine informed me that the family was going out for a little, and would return around 10pm. Now, as this was right around dinnertime, I assumed they were going out to dinner, and didn’t invite me. After cleverly interrogating the kids this morning, I discovered that they went to see Wall-E, and went to a sushi restaurant as well. Whatever, I thought. I have stopped caring.

On another note, I receive my contract for teaching in China today! I’ll be starting the 15th of October, and will be finished by the end of February. I am very excited! Filled with renewed spirit, the banal tasks and psychotic children seemed less of a threat to my sanity than usual today.