The Sharpest Toothpick in the World and Other Stories

What is this nonsense I ask you? What is it with all these controlly people on the buses all of a sudden? ... maybe there's a reason ... but I don't know it and it is therefore nonsense!

In all my public transportation experience in the past five-or-so months I have been stopped four times by public transportation controllers asking to see my "titre de transport" ... however that translates. At any rate, it's my carte Imagine R, which I give over with a bright smile each time because I know I'm not breaking any rules. Four times, right? No big ... except three out of these four times have been in the last three weeks. Perhaps the public transportation system is losing money and they must make sure everyone pays? Perhaps they simply do this at the beginning of each year to remind people that they exist and they WILL get you? Perhaps it's all in my head and not only are there no controllers but I'm not even in France and in a hospital after a horrible car crash? Who knows ...

Last Wednesday I met up with a bunch of exchange students at the Musée d'Orsay in Paris (I had to take the PAIN-IN-THE-ASS!!!!! RER line C ... I wanted to die). Oh, you know me ... art isn't really my thing except the reallyreally good stuff, and in my opinion, this museum did not have much reallyreally good stuff. Luckily we left because art is boring.

I was in a group of four exchange students (a Canadian, Taylor; a Tennessean, Krysten; and an Alaskan, Alesha) who splintered off from everyone else because the rest of the group went into a little bar/café to get something to drink, and, well, we had just had some hot chocolate. So instead we headed off to the Arc de Triomphe because Alesha and Krysten had never been there (as you may remember, me and Taylor were there the week before and we got in free by following a policeman (who saw us, by the way, I don't know why he didn't stop us) up a staircase for exiters of the Arc only). There was no policeman to follow this time, but we went up the Out Only staircase anyway because once you go ... forbidden staircases ... you never go back.

After the Arc (at which nothing exciting happened), we hung out on the Champs Elysées for a while. I got conned into giving money to a "Bosnian refugee" ... hah! I'll never be fooled by that again. Luckily I only gave her 70 centimes ... I am so angry at that lady. And we skipped up the Champs Elysées like they do in the Wizard of Oz, me singing "we're off to see the wizard..." etc etc. I think we got caught on camera. Cool! It was great fun.

Yesterday, my friends, you know where I was? A Rotary conference.

About

escargots.

That is to say, snails.

Do I now know more about snails than I've ever been curious about in my life?

Yeah.

Did I taste some?

Yeah.

Was it delicious?

Umm ... yeah! Honestly, if I hadn't known it was snail before I ate it, it would have been my last guess as to what it actually was. If I gave you a snail, and if you didn't look at it, you'd like it. I promise you. Tastes like chicken! Too bad the US has stupid rules about not bringing animaly-food-type-thingies into America. Otherwise I'd totally bring some home and trick you into eating it ... like I'm going to do with foie gras and rabbit and duck ... I bet I can find escargots somewhere.

Because I am terribly clever, I decided to keep the toothpick from which I ate my very first escargot as a souvenir. I put it in my coat pocket and thought no more of it.

Today after I ate lunch at school (which I rarely do Tuesdays), I was leaving the building and I put my hand in my pocket to retrieve my iPod so I could walk to the bus stop listening to ... what was it ... the White Stripes. In fact, my iPod turned out to be in the other pocket. You know what was in the right one? Something long and wooden and pointy ... my escargot toothpick. The sharpest toothpick in the whole world. "Aïe!" I said (that's "ouch" in French and it's so much more practical to say). The toothpick had broken my skin but I wasn't bleeding. No big.

On my way to the bus stop, my finger started to throb. I think I'm turning into a snail.

Love,
Leah

A Small Update on My Mundane Goings-On

I have bought a new coat. It is delightful. Everyone here wears a coat like I have. I love these coats. To bad you have no idea what I'm talking about. I suppose you'll just have to wait until next winter to see how wonderful it is. The point is that 35 of the 50€ I found on the métro stairs (yeah!!!!!) have been well spent. Aren't you jealous? Plus, the coat was supposed to cost 40€, but pretty girls get discounts. Rawr!!!

On girl in my class told me my coat was "trop fort", which is basically the French way of saying that I am wonderful and she wants to worship golden idols of me ... either that or she thinks my coat is cool. But I'm quite sure it's the first option. Her name is Sarafina. Crazy name!! I like her ...

Now all I need are a few scarves and leather gloves and I'm all set for winter ... which doesn't really exist at the moment ... thank God.

Last Sunday (the day after I bought my fabulous new coat) I went to the theatre with the Moisonniers (future host family). We saw a comedy play about the goings on amongst an army captain, a sculpter, a nurse, and her patient in a hospital in post-WWI France. It was hi-larious. What do mean "You mean you understood it?" I am affronted! Naturally ...

But your offensive words are not the point. It was very very funny. Plus, I like hanging out with the Moisonniers. Or am I just saying that because one of them reads my blog ... no. I really do like them.

The next event in my series of goings-on was Wednesday, when I went to Paris after school to hang out with a Canadian exchange student. He said to meet me at the "Café au mètre" or something, so naturally I went to the "Café au métro." And naturally he wasn't there. So I was all "Jesus, Taylor, where the hell are you?" I sat myself by the window and shooed away the waiter, telling him I was waiting for someone. I browsed the menu for a few minutes, then I happened to look up and what did I see? ... I boy, about my age ... standing outside ... in a bright ... red ... Rotary jacket.

I left the café, much to the irritation (or I imagine, anyway) of the waiter.

Me and Taylor exchanged our stories and got a good, hearty laugh out of it. Ha-ha-ha! Like that. He said he figured I'd be here ("here" being where I was) since the names of the cafés were similar. I told him I had just figured he'd spelled it wrong. Cool.

And thus began our great Parisian adventure of ... nothing. See, it's wonderful to hang out with someone who (like yourself) does not get bored easily. We were both content to wander aimlessly around Paris until our feet got tired and all that blah-blah-splee stuff. Actually, we did go to the Arc de Triomphe because he had never seen it. Loser. He lives an hour outside of Paris and I live ... six kilometers? We weren't sure, but we thought we were maybe supposed to pay to see the Arc de Triomph from ... just under it. But instead we followed a policeman up a staircase labeled "interdit" (forbidden) and we got in free! Suckers ...

Well, seeing as he lives an hour away from Paris, he did not know the secret of the arondissements (however that's spelled) and I did. Therefore, even though I never knew exactly where we were, I always had an idea, because the arondissement number is labeled above most street signs.

Arondissements ... how do explain? I don't know, so I am going to plagerize the explanation from my Larousse dictionary. Hang on a sec.

Excuse me. "Arrondissement." It's got two r's. Here we go. "France's three largest cities (Paris, Lyon and Marseilles) are divided into arrondissements. They have no historical meaning; in Paris for instance they were named following a spiral starting at the Île de la Cité ..."

Anyhow. Unfortunately, he saw how it worked because they were labeled on a map. Damn! My Parisian mysticism was ruined!

Anyhow, shortly before he solved this mystery, we were walking (surprise, surprise) and he stopped, quite lost (the poor thing) and asked, "Do you know where we are?"

Well, first of all, I cannot just say "no" to such a thing. Second, I had the arrondissements on my side. I glanced at a nearby street sign. 4th arrondissement.

"Yes," I said, "I know exactly where we am."

We didn't move for another five minutes because we were laughing so hard.

I am losing my English, my friends ... losing my English ...

Good.

The last notable thing that happend was yesterday.

Two things, actually. Sorry.

Me and Sayaka went to Paris yesterday to see her friend Leonore (on the way we came across some American girls who didn't know if two different labels for the métro line 14 were the same because the shades of purple on the labels weren't exactly the same ... silly Americans). Oh my gosh. Leonore lives with her boyfriend in Paris and their apartment is smaller that my bedroom at the Petiot's house. It is tiny. I'll bet it's expensive as well! I'll probably go back sometime. Sayaka said Leonore wants to "talk to me a lot more." I'll take pictures. She'll understand. She (Leonore) takes pictures all the time.

Also yesterday, me and Sayaka went with Myriam (of the Moisonnier family) to a dance show by an Israeli dance company. I wish I could explain it, but I cannot. It was incredibly unique ... modern ... ballet ... Tim Burton ... I kid you not. Tim Burton MUST have been a source of inspiration for the choreographers. It was called "Oyster" ... I don't know why.

Well, sorry for the not-longest-or-highest-quality-post in the world. Just thought I should give my New Year's Resolution of more frequent updates a lifespan of more than one month.

Cheers!

Leah

I Kissed the Mayor of Maisons-Alfort!!!

Did I get your attention?

Allow me to explain properly.

Before I do ... there has been some confusion as to my Japanese host sister, Sayaka. Let me explain to you how my host family works:

Characters:

Guite (NOT PRONOUNCED "GWEET"!!!!! There is NOT a "w" sound!!!!)
Odile
Kader
Kenza
Maïssane
Hilal
Unknown
Sayaka
Leah

Guite is my host mother, if you will. Her daughter, Odile, lives in the little house in Guite's back yard. Living also in the little house is Odile's husband from Algeria, Kader, and their three little girls: Kenza, Maïssane and Hilal. Odile is now pregnant with a fourth child.

In the other house--the big one--we have Guite, Sayaka, and me. Now, you all know who I am. If you don't, stop reading my blog. Go away. Sayaka was an exchange student to France (like me) last year ... she's from Japan. This year, however, she has come back to study at a university in Paris and Guite has kindly invited her to live in her house. Thus, I have a Japanese host sister without having a Japanese host family.

Now. We continue.

Last night, there was a big soirée type thingy in Maisons-Alfort at Moulin Brûlé where a bunch of rich/otherwise important people went, listened to the mayor speak, and ate some little appetizer things. There are, apparently, a LOT of rich/important people in Maison-Alfort and the surrounding area. There was a rather large line to get in. Guite had come earlier, so Sayaka and I were on our own. Well, we did what any sane person would do and we cut in line, not quite to the front, but a lot closer than we would have been if we'd waited in line like all the other losers.

So. We waited, feeling rich and important (at least I was) until we got to where the party was. Some politicians and otherwise important people were standing in line, shaking everybody's hand as they entered. Undoubtedly, this is why the line was so long and slow moving.

Sayaka recognized some people (I only recognized Guite, who was obviously important enough to be standing in line with the politicians, greeting everyone who came in) and told me "Oh, he's a politician and he's the mayor and blahblahblah."

After about a million and five years, we got to the front of the line and the mayor of Maisons-Alfort gave me and Sayaka Frenchie cheek kisses, while most of the other losers god handshakes. We are obviously very special. Foreigners always are.

And that is my story of kissing the mayor.

He gave a speech (a half hour long) and it actually wasn't too bad. I didn't get bored but my feet hurt a little. You know, he was saying all these things very mayor-ish and all that. The highlight was when he said, "And during the Christmas season, what should we be doing? Going to stores to buy presents that will be lost or broken? No. We should be coming to public functions and listening to the mayor speak." Hahaha. I'm sure the humor was lost in translation. Plus, I don't remember exactly what he said.

I saw Myriam there--future host mom. Just a note. Obviously, a woman such as herself is important enough to be there. The mayor probably kissed her cheeks as well.

I do adore her. Going to the theatre with her and Pierre (future host dad) on Sunday. Don't know if Loïck (future host brother) is going or not.

But today. We move on to today, which was really my motivation for writing in the first place.

I woke up at 8:00. I got out of bed at 8:05. I took my time and by the time I got downstairs I had three minutes to eat breakfast. So, four minutes later I was running out the door and naturally I got to the bus stop much too early because I worry about such silly things. I could have made it to school on time by foot!

I got to school ten minutes before class started. So, what does a student to in a school where substitute teachers don't exist? Obviously, we check to see which teachers are absent!

Surprise, surprise! Mlle Briscadieu, my histoire/géo teacher wasn't there! That makes two hours free that would usually be spent in that class, plus my free hour during which everyone else has spanish, plus an hour and twenty minutes for lunch. Do I stay or do I go?

Do I look stupid? I went home of course! There I was at 9 in the morning, walking around the block to the busstop for bus 107 when EVERYBODY else was walking towards the school! It was a wonderful feeling.

So I got back home and joined Sayaka for a REAL breakfast because I hadn't eaten very well before leaving.

The next class I had to worry about was to start at 1:25 so I had pleanty of time. I thought to myself "wouldn't it be cool if my next teacher wasnt here either?"

But the PE teacher is ALWAYS there! I hate PE.

At 12:50 I set off to catch the next bus only to find that it had come early! No worries, though. Thirty-five minutes is pleanty of time to get to school by foot. So I set off, listening to my iPod, not really minding the wind and cold and slight-slight-slight rain.

I got to school a bit later than expected because a girl I had apparently met a loooooong time ago saw me on the street and stopped me to talk and ask some questions and all that. But I would still be on time for PE. Unfortunately.

So. I walk up to the school and who do I see at the busstop across the street? Margo! A girl in my class!

"We don't have sport today?" I called to her.

"No. The teacher isn't here."

So now I'm back at home. I wonder if my math and English teachers are here today ...

The Story Continues ...

What did I promise you again? Bugger ... let me check ...

-Christmas
-Paris with Anna
-New Year's
-A brief recap of my afternoon with Alice and Baptia
-Moving in with my new host family

Part One: Christmas ... in France!!!

As you may recall, I didn't get to sleep until, oh, about 4:00 in the morning on Christmas Eve ... although, by that time I suppose it was Christmas morning. Seeing as I usually like to get a healthy 8 hours of sleep a night I felt I would be justified in sleeping in until noon. However ...

#1: I hate sleeping in that late
#2: Who the hell sleeps in til noon on Christmas?????
#3: If, indeed, I did do that it would have been quite selfish, don't you think?

So instead I settled with a nice 6 hours of sleep and awoke at 10 the next morning.

There was really no pomp or ceremony over Christmas morning. Everyone but Alice was still in pajamas and gathered around the Christmas tree which had been up since before Thanksgiving. Everyone opened their presents and then it was over. Basically. The Petiots were nice enough to have bougt me a few small gifts: some earrings and a necklace and a grey-and-black-stripey shirt which Alice was convinced I would never wear but jokes on her because I wore it the other day!!!

My favorite part of the morning was when Victoria opened the present from my mom--an angel Christmas ornament, though I don't think she got it was for the tree.

"Qu'est-ce que c'est beau!" she said, which is a compliment reserved for her favorite things.

Didier didn't seem as enthusiastic about it at first, but later he asked me very fervently to write to my mom and tell her thank you for the beautiful angel.

The Cousins came over for lunch and the exchange of presents. Guess what we ate???? More foie gras!!! Psh. Not enough fig jam. Victoria thinks there's such a thing as "too much" but I disagree. She does not, however, believe in "too much" of the foie gras itself.

Baptia was the only person who gave presents. It wasn't like at home. She gave everyone (including me) a little gift and that was that. She gave me some little perfumes and a case to put toiletries in ... which I just realized I forgot to use it when I moved. Oops.

I should have done this a long time ago. I don't remember anything. Bah humbug. We move on ...

Part Two: Paris

Eve, one of The Cousins, was sick on Christmas. The next day Thomas (her little brother) and Douglas were sick. Then it was my turn. A few days after Christmas I was innocently laying on bed reading a book that Mom sent me for Christmas, feeling slightly nauseous, wondering if I'd eaten too much. Next thing I knew I was kneeling over the toilet down the hall, vomiting all three of my meals into the Porcelain King.

I was sick all night and the next day as well. However, the day after I was feeling my normal self (almost), and I got a call from Anna (who reminded me who she was in an email by saying "I'm the other exchange student with a metro card," ... because we live close to Paris ...), who I met at that rendez-vous thing that I talked about in my last entry. She asked if I wanted to meet up with her in Paris. Ooh ... Victoria was all worry-ish about my having been sick and all that. I said I'd call her back.

Much to my surprise, the response from Victoria was enthusiastically affirmative. "Il faut aller à Paris. Il faut." I have to go to Paris, roughly.

Boy oh boy. Me and Anna decided to meet at Gare d'Austerlitz which is a pain to get to from RER A. It involved a trek deep into Paris and two train changes. But I did meet some Canadians who had been visiting Belgium. They were leaving that day, I was informed.

Because I badlybadlybadly estimated the amount of time it would take me to get to Paris, I ended up getting to the gare nearly a half hour later than agreed upon. And ... she wasn't there.

I'm not going to go into detail about waiting because honestly ... that's quite boring. Especially since I didn't have my iPod.

No worries, though, Anna showed up, saying she'd been late as well and all was forgotten and blahblahblah.

And so our Parisian adventure began. Anna suggested seeing some thingy that had been around since Roman times. One of two remaining in Paris. We set off and took a long walk through the grounds of a hospital, realized we'd gone the wrong way, turned around, walkwalkwalked and ... we found it.

Now, to me, it wasn't very impressive. It was a theatre of some sort, apparently, or it used to be. Anyhow, we only hung around there for a few minutes before Anna mentioned the marché aux puces--the flea market--in the north end of Paris at the verrrrrrrry end of the métro line 4.

Now that was a worthwhile visit. I love the open-air markets! Beaucoup de monde! And noise everywhere! That's my kind of shopping atmosphere. Not a mall. I hate malls. I did end up buying one thing ... a present ... for someone ... I'm not saying who, but if you got a phone call from me from Paris, it may be for you ... and I may covet it myself.

We decided to be sporadic for dinner. We got back on the métro and got off where our stomachs toldus to. We found a lovely Italian restaurant and enjoyed some lovely Italian food in lovely Paris.

It was lovely.

Part Three: New Year's Eve

My original plans for the new year were to go to this other exchange student's house for some party with Alice and her friend Solène. But Anna said that she was having a party as well, and that one was SO much easier to get to than the other. So at quarter to seven on december 31, me and Alice (Solène opted to stay home with her mom, who would have otherwise been alone for the new year) set out on our sojourn to the verrrrrry end of the RER E.

Although Anna's directions weren't veryvery clear, we ended up finding her house alright and even though we got there a half hour early, we were some of the last to arrive. Yes. And we knew no one, except Anna.

At the beginning we sort of ... stood ... in the kitchen ... and did nothing. Sigh ...

We thought we were going to be bored the whole night. BORED??? On New Year's Eve???? That is simply not allowed!

Luckily, we were saved. It turned out to be a veryvery enjoyable party. It had the most bizarre mix of techno music, Anna's friends turned out to be really nice people ... and at one point (sometime before midnight, I think) we were even brave enough to dance! I think I've discovered the secret of having the ability to dance without feeling like an idiot. Just do what everyone else is doing! How can someone think you look stupid if they're doing the exact same thing? ... okay ... I'll rephrase ... How can someone openly make fun of what you're doing if they're doing the exact same thing??? It worked for me, anyway.

I don't know when I went to bed that night ... that morning, rather. I just know that the day after I was quite tired the whole day.

When the new year had come, I had been one of two people who noticed. Fancy that.

A slightly sad ending: I left my green coat at Anna's house ... I love that coat ... I must get it back.

Part Four: an afternoon with Baptia

Creative title, no?

I don't remember why I wanted to talk about this. Nothing remarkable exciting happened. The day before I moved out of the Petiots' house, me and Alice went to Baptia's house, which is really the top half of a house due to circumstances blablabla.

She made us clementine juice. Freshly squeezed. Très bon pour la santé. Very healthy. I hate that phrase in French. It's just because whenever someone has said it to me it has been in a self-righteous way ... I was doing something the wrong. So I associate it with negative things. I must chage that.

Anyhow. Besides being very healthy, it was also very delicious.

She proceeded to invite us out for a lunch at a crèperie. Crèpérie? Je ne sais pas. Crepérie? Whatever. Not important. The point is that the crèpes were delicious. I had an egg one for the "lunch" part and a chocolate one for dessert.

Honestly. I don't remember what I wanted to comment on!

We did have some really good coffee at a little bar I must remember for when Dad and Rozanne come. Very strong. Very French. Thus ... very good.

Moving on ...

Part Five: NEW HOST FAMILY!!!!!!!!

Wednesday January 3, 2007 I spent most of the day in the room I no longer referred to as my own but as Lola's (the eldest daughter of the Petiot family who is currently in Mexico), cleaning. I had finished packing, so it was "clean" as in not ... disorderly, for lack of a better word. However, I vacuumed, I vacuumed again, I washed the bedspread, I made the bed, I cleaned the sink, I cleaned the shower, I put all her things in the bathroom exactly as they were when I had arrived.

Then I went to the mall with Alice.

We won't talk about that. Boring story. I didn't buy anything.

Ahem. Yes.

Anyhow, about 8:00 (a half hour after we had originally planned, as usual) we left with allllllll my stuff (my possessions have expanded since my arrival) for Guite's house ... all of us. See, it was going to be something of a gentle transition. The Petiots come for dinner at Guite's house ... they eat ... then they simply leave me there. Not that I needed the transition to be gentle. I just needed the transition.

We had a cheese fondue for dinner. The cheese ... well, I covered it with so much potato and so much meat, I didn't notice it much. The point is, however, that I ate it and I didn't die.

That doesn't mean I've started liking cheese, though ... don't worry. I still think it is the most disgusting thing to have ever cursed my tastebuds.

After dinner, me and Alice listened to Are You Gonna Be My Girl by Jet on my iPod one last time (it was Our Song, see?) and then ... they left. I was now a part of the Benoit family. No longer with the Petiots.

And now I'm settled. All my stuff is put away in my room, which is much smaller than the one I had at the Petiots' house and without its own bathroom, but I like it even better. My new Japanese "sister", Sayaka, is sitting behind me, studying for an exam. Hilal, one of the granddaughters of Guite is playing with her babydoll and regularly coming to Sayaka for help when her lego pieces fall apart. Guite is watching the TV and sewing something for her daughter's baby ... because her daughter (who lives in a little house in Guite's garden) is pregnant with her fourth child.

I am settled. I am opening the next chapter of my life in France.

I have made France truly my home away from home. Finally.