A new beginning

Like so many of those who have come before me, and I imagine that those who are newly arrived will one day discover, blogging about my life in France has become more difficult, as it no longer feels like my life in France. It is simply my life.

I am intégrée. Like all good Frenchies, when I go abroad I miss terribly good bread. I eat baguette almost every day.

I sing the Marseillaise at the national team’s football matches.

I know more about cheese than I ever thought there could possibly be to learn. I laughed along with the 20minutes newspaper report on whole food’s map of French cheese that showed *gasp* l’Epoisse comes from Savoy and Camembert from Montpellier (It’s Bourgogne and Normandie, FYI).


(Image from @Mi_ka_L)
Speaking of maps of France, I drew one with twinkle lights for my boyfriend’s birthday party from memory, and did a better job than he did!


My English has become so francophonisé that I don’t always notice mistakes my colleagues make when they write in English. But really, why isn't cited a synonym for said?

I talk to my cat, Léo, in French. I call him mimi, minou, doudou, choupi and all other sort of sweet nothings.


Also he is 3.5 years old now... last time I blogged he was just a kitten!
All this to say that I am embarking on the journey of naturalisation. After five months of my citizenship application missing various documents that were never asked for in this first place (#classic #Frenchbureaucracy), I got the best birthday present ever: the confirmation by mail that my application was considered complete and the 18-month countdown to naturalisation had begun!

So, fingers crossed!!

And a big thank you to all my readers who embarked on my journey of francification with me.

Love,
Laura

Normal conversation

While still on the job hunt, I was discussing the different interviews I had been on in France with my brother. I had gone to job interviews at eight different companies at this point, and at most of these, I was offered a beverage (coffee/tea/water) at the very beginning of the interview.

At interview #8, however, no such offer was made. Eventually, after about an hour of interviewing, the interviewer asked me if I would like to go join everyone for le pause café.

Several employees were enjoying their mid-morning coffee break, and I was able to join in on everyday conversations and really get a feel for the place.

After agreeing that it is an interesting interview tactic, as it allows the employer to observe the interviewee in a social setting, and it allows the interviewee the opportunity to see if they’d be a good fit, my brother asked me, “well, what did you guys talk about?”

“Oh, you know, just normal stuff… mostly about vineyards, different wine producing regions, and champagne caves.”

“Normal? ...that is so French!”

I hadn’t even noticed.


Visiting champagne caves in Reims!

First French Christmas

Being unable to re-enter the French territory if I left it due to visa complications, I celebrated Christmas this year in France, with the Frenchboyfriend and his family; my very first French Noël.


Christmas in Paris.
French Christmas is all about family and food, a lot of food, with a little bit of Père Noël thrown in.

The celebrations started on Christmas Eve, with a family dinner lasting from 7pm till 2:30am, with about an hour of that dedicated to opening gifts. The rest? Drinking delicious champagne and wine, and eating several courses, from appetizers to a cheese course, and of course way too many desserts to count.

I learned that in the South it is traditional to have 13 desserts. We didn’t have quite thirteen, but we did have homemade chocolate covered clementines, marzipan fruits, bugnes, gingerbread cake, and bûche de noël, to name a few.


Christmas decorations in a small skiing village next to Frenchboyfriend's hometown.
In between the cheese coarse and the dessert coarse, who to my wandering eyes should appear but none other than the not-very-elusive Père Noël!

France’s equivalent to Santa Claus actually shows up while the children are awake to bring them gifts. While there weren’t any children present, Frenchboyfriend’s grandpa still dressed up as Père Noël and added a bit of Christmas magic to the evening.

French children also don’t need to hang their stockings by the chimney with care, as the French get their gifts directly from the big guy and don’t have stockings at all.

This probably explains why Frenchboyfriend’s family kept referring to all the gifts under the tree as being from Père Noël. There didn’t seem to be the same distinction between family gifts vs. Santa gifts that I have in my family.

Christmas day we underwent the eating endeavor again, only this time with the dad’s side of the family.

But meals didn’t stop there! We continued to have lovely dinners with various other members of the family and good family friends for the next several days. And then what else do you do for New Year’s Eve but eat a big meal?

Thanksgiving: year seven.

I waslucky enough to celebrate Thanksgiving twice this year.

For maybe the first year ever in France, I celebrated Thanksgiving on Thanksgiving thanks to a wonderful American friend who came to visit and cooked a wonderful dinner. I also had my traditional Thanksgiving potluck, using my tried and true recipes.

As has become a personal traditional, here are five things I’m thankful for this year:

1. The Frenchboyfriend
This year was the hardest of my life thus far (and I know this means I’ve had a great life). I was unemployed for almost a year. I felt helpless, as after several interviews I was told that my lack of experience is the reason I wasn’t getting the job. I felt anxious, convinced that I would never find a job and end up homeless.

All this to say, I was in a very dark place. What made it a little less dark? The French boyfriend. He supported me through all of this, comforted me when all I could do was cry, and kept up a never ending mantra of “of course you’re going to get a job” and “no one stays unemployed forever” and “you’re not going to end up homeless.”

I am so thankful for him.

2. Léonard


Introducing, Léonard!
After ten years of wanting a cat of my own, for my 28th birthday I gifted myself an adorable rescue 4-month-old Siamese kitten named Léonard. He is more than I could ever have hoped for. He purrs when we get up in the mornings and when we come home from work, he loves to cuddle, he’s super playful, loves to be with people, and best of all he loves to be carried, which was my childhood wish for my childhood cats who of course hated it.


Sleeping on my lap
He’s only been a part of the family for two months, but I already can’t imagine things without him (even if he did eat the fiberoptic cable and destroy a small house plant).

3. Family
My parents have been so supportive of me this whole year. I am so thankful to have parents that encourage me to follow my passion and pursue my life in France. I am also thankful for my brother, for letting me be silly and weird and for always reminding me how much I’m missed back home.


Parents visiting Paris
4. Friends
I am thankful for old friends and new for commiserating with me about how hard it is to friend a job and for helping me forget my troubles. I am especially thankful for the outpouring of love and concern I received following the recent Paris attacks. Thank you all.


5. The New Job
I am so so so thankful to be once again employed. It was a struggle, but the job I have now was worth the wait. I am very excited and interested in the project I’m working on, my coworkers are super nice, my boss really believes in me and shows appreciation for my work, my contract is until May 2018 (the length of the project), and I get ten weeks of vacation a year. What more could a girl ask for?

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Bois de Boulogne

The Bois de Boulogne is a large Parisian park found on the city limits. It is twice as big as New York’s Central Park, and yet Parisian’s love to complain about the city’s lack of green space (maybe because if it’s not found in the center it counts less?).

Regardless, the Parisians do love their outdoor space and most weekends the bois is packed with families, friends, and dogs, picnicking, biking, or even rowing around.


Le Bois de Boulogne
On this particular Saturday I had gone to the bois alone to get my fill of Vitamin D and catch up on some reading.

After sufficiently soaking in the sun’s rays, I was walking home, still very much in the park, but a bit separated from the merry makers, when a twentysomething French woman approached me.

Expecting her to ask for directions and feeling proud that, as someone who lives near the park and has spent a good amount of time there, I would be able to guide her, she caught me a little off guard when she asked,

“Excusez-moi? Bonjour… so I really need to pee and I was wondering if I went behind this bush, if you wouldn’t mind watching out to make sure nobody goes by?"

“Ah,” I chuckled, fully understanding her predicament, as France is notorious for it’s lack of public bathrooms, “bien sûr, pas de soucis (of course, no worries).” I smiled.


The Eiffel Tower is even visible from the bois.
We walked over to the secluded bush. I turned around to watch for passerbys while she presumably walked behind the bush to take care of business.

It turned out that my presence wasn’t necessary; nobody came close to where we were. There was one man, however, who started off down the path towards us, found a different bush a ways off, saddled on up to it, and promptly started peeing.

I guess I was unknowingly walking down the chemin de pipi (pee trail).

---

On a side note, there ARE public bathrooms in the Bois de Boulogne that are also free of charge in the jardin de Shakespeare, so don't feel obligated to urinate publically. Considering the park is so big, you might want to plan ahead to give yourself enough time to get there, though.

Public Displays of Affection

Compared to America, the French are very pro-PDA. Nobody thinks twice if a couple is canoodling on the metro, or exchanges a quick kiss on the lips for a greeting.

I am a supporter of PDA. I like to partake in cuddling and even small kisses in front of friends or strangers on the street.

That said, I was forced to observe a little bit too much PDA the other day on the metro. This was one of those metro rides where the car is packed and you are sort of stuck looking in a certain direction.

I had a couple right in front of me, and it started out all right. They were holding hands, putting their arms around each other, all in all pretty tame.

Until, with horror, I saw this young man lean forward towards his girlfriend’s face, mouth open, going for a kiss, tongue first.

Then both tongues were out, touching, right in front of my face.

And I thought to myself, “man, the French are a little too okay with PDA.”

Networking

An important part of any job search is networking, which is unfortunate, as I am terrible at it.

After a time spent responding to job announcements, I finally decided to accept the fact that sustainable development is a niche field where most available jobs are only on the hidden market and put myself out there.

Luckily, living in Paris means lots of conferences open to the public on the subject of sustainable development. I signed myself up for one, and even though I tried to arrive early on the day of, I inevitably got lost.

As soon as I took a seat next to two normal looking women, the introductory speaker began the conference. Despite trying to smile and introduce myself, I was met with unfriendly vibes.


Conference at the Ministère de l'écologie, du développement durable, et de l'énergie.
I spent most of that first session thinking about how stupid conferences are for networking seeing as if you sit next to two unfriendly people you basically just waste the entire day.

The conference broke for lunch, and I broke down in tears.

I fought the urge to simply go home, and accepted the fact that I was a big networking failure who hadn't even networked enough to find a group of people to eat with.

I began searching the near by restaurants for vegetarian options. Walking into an overly crowded pizza place, I saw the lady who was seated in front of me during the conference.

I took a second to gather up my courage and then asked, “vous étiez à la conference, n’est pas? Je pense que vous étiez assise devant moi,” (Weren’t you at the conference? I think you were seated in front of me).

“Ah oui tout à fait! Voulez-vous manger avec nous?” (Yes I was! Would you care to eat with us?) she replied.

I was in!

I had a very nice lunch with the lady and her colleague, but somehow only managed to get the contact information from one of them.

After lunch, I took a seat elsewhere in the amphitheater and this time was able to converse with my neighbors, also getting their contact information.

While I wasn't a complete failure, I wasn't exactly a networking super star either.

Hopefully I'll get better as time goes on, although so far each new conference has been just as stressful as the last.


It doesn't hurt that some conferences are held in beautiful buildings such as this one (Hotel de Lassay).

DVDs

I was lucky enough to get to go back home to California for two weeks during the winter holidays.


Christmas à la plage.
I made sure to only put really light weight objects on my x-mas wish list and asked my parents to not gift me anything too heavy, as I was hoping to use the return flight as an opportunity to bring more of my belongings to France.

As luck would have it, the gifts that I brought to CA with me far outweighed the gifts I received (why are wine bottles so freaking heavy?), and left me with some space to bring back beloved objects that up till now were residing in my parents’ garage.

I brought back some old journals, some clothes, my Ewok stuffed animal, and a ridiculous amount of DVDs.

Since the first time I moved to France, I’ve been treating my parents’ house like a Blockbuster. I have a CD case holder that I fill up with DVDs that I then I change out every time I go home.


My Ewok, books, and movie rental hardware.
This year, however, I got some DVDs for Christmas that I didn’t necessarily want to take up space in my special DVD trading case; I decided to take my French film DVDs back to France to share them with the French boyfriend; and I also wanted to borrow my Dad’s DVDs of the original Star Wars films as it’d been too long since I’d seen them and scandalously, the French boyfriend hasn’t seem them since he was a child.

All in all, I brought back a lot of DVDs and left some other treasured objects behind.

Now it’s important to note that Europe and North America are in different zones for DVDs. This means that a DVD made for viewing in America is considered a “zone 1” DVD, and can only be played by North American “zone 1” DVD players*. France, along with the rest of Europe, is in “zone 2.”

This has never been a problem as my computer is from America, and therefore plays zone 1 DVDs. For French DVDs, we use French boyfriend's French computer. Everything works out dandily.

Except that as soon as I got back to France, my laptop’s DVD drive stopped working.

So much for that.

*Apparently DVD players exist now-a-days that can play both zones, but unemployed me is a little too tight on money to purchase one. Also, I’m not sure I believe them.

Pole Emploi

The reason most people sign up with pole emploi, the unemployment office, is because they are getting chomage, or unemployment benefits, which are only accessible via this government body. Sadly, having a stage (internship) doesn’t qualify one for chomage, and so I didn’t immediately sign up. However recent graduates frequently do register despite the lack of monetary benefits.

While they do have a service that helps one search for jobs, the types of jobs that I’m interested in weren't usually advertised on pole emploi and so I’d been using other services.

Luckily, a friend of mine told me that if I’d sign up at pole emploi to declare myself à la recherche d’emploi (looking for work), I would receive an unemployment card that would give me free access to most of Paris’ lovely museums.

Suddenly dealing with French bureaucracy seemed worth it.

After signing up online, I received an appointment for about two weeks later to go to the pole emploi offices closest to me.

Knowing how these things go thanks to all my trips to the Prefecture, I brought the documents that pole emploi asked for (ID, pay stubs, CV), plus every other sort of document they could possibly need from me (copy of my birth certificate, proof of having graduated from a French institution, etc.).

I also brought along reading material to keep me busy for at least an entire afternoon, and I showed up to my appointment about ten minutes early.

There was a very, very long line for the accueil (welcome desk) for people without an appointment, and a relatively short line for people with one. Arriving at the front of the line right when my appointment was supposed to start, I signed in without a hitch.

I found an empty chair, sat down, and was starting to pull a magazine out of my tote bag, when my name was called to go back and meet my counselor!

Not only were they super prompt, but my counselor was super friendly, didn’t need random documents that weren’t listed on the official documents list, spent time looking over my general CV and cover letter, and despite confirming that they don’t receive many job offers for the work I’m interested in, gave me a lovely packet full of tips for people in my field.


My crumpled up pass that I keep in my wallet for emergency museum visits
She also gave me my get-into-museums-free pass, and I have been using it up a storm.

PDFs and the Prefecture

The process for obtaining the APS visa begins 4 months before the expiration of one’s student visa. After compiling, printing, photocopying, and organizing the various documents required and writing a lettre de motiviation (cover letter), I made my way to the prefecture de police.

After placing the various documents on the counter and saying that I was there to drop off my application for the APS visa, the French man behind the counter said, “On ne prend plus les documents du format papier,” (We no longer accept documents in paper form).

Not being sure I understood correctly, I said, “mais votre site web dit de venir avec tous ces papiers et les déposer à votre bureau” (but your website says to come here with these papers and drop them off at your office).

“Ah oui, mais le site web n’est plus à jour,” (Ah yes, well, the website is no longer up-to-date).

Starting to feel a slight panic, I asked the man what I was supposed to do.

He handed me a printed out regular piece of paper (no fancy French flag header or anything) with instructions telling one to send all the various documents I had just spent good money printing and copying as a PDF to an email address that, I kid you not, was a gmail address. Not @gouv.fr, not @prefecturedepolice.fr, not @france.fr, but @gmail.com!

Trusting the process very little, I still did what I was told.

Fast forward 4 months to the day when my student visa expired and I had my scheduled interview with the prefecture de police to hopefully obtain the APS visa. For this particular meeting, I was supposed to have received a document in the mail from my school, but of course I hadn’t.

I called the school and they told me not to worry, that they’d simply email me a PDF copy of the document that I could then print out and take to the prefecture.

Once at the prefecture, I presented them with my documents where it was immediately remarked upon that the school document was not the “original” copy. After explaining that I hadn’t yet received the school’s document in the mail but that they sent me this PDF version by e-mail, I was told, “on n’accepte plus les formats PDFs,” (we no longer accept pdf versions).

Despite the prefecture de police's policy on PDFs doing a 180 in just four months, I was eventually able to get my APS visa.

Thanksgiving: year six.

Six years of being away from family and other Americans on this very American holiday has made it seem almost the norm. I am once again hosting a Thanksgiving potluck with my French friends (using my tried and true French thanksgiving recipes), and I am once again using this as an opportunity to reflect on all that I am thankful for in my French life.

This year, I am thankful for:

1. The French boyfriend
My constant proofreader, who helps me navigate French bureaucracy, I am so thankful to get to cuddle up next to him on a daily basis. I’m especially thankful this year that he drove my parents to Switzerland and spent an entire day with them sans moi because I had left my passport in Paris… Thank you so much!

2. Amis
As always, I also can’t imagine my French life without all the wonderful people I’ve met out here, from the amazing people I just graduated with to the new friends I’ve made in Paris. From commiserating about the daunting visa process to helping deal with the stress of office life as well as, now, the job-hunting process, I’m so grateful for you all.

3. Graduation
After two years of hard work in the classroom and in the office, I am officially a Master! I am so grateful for the opportunity to have gotten this degree in France with such lovely, wonderful people, and I am also grateful for the fact that my university just happened to be in Champagne as that led to celebrating this milestone with the delicious beverage that shares the region’s name at very reasonable prices.

4. APS
I am so grateful for the visa that allows foreign bearers of a French master’s degree stay in France for one year in order to look for employment in their field of expertise. It’s given me the opportunity to stay here for one more year, hopefully soon find a job, and continue this great adventure.

5. Paris
Living in Paris has led to a plethora of reasons to be grateful. Not only is the city beautiful and full of wonderful museums that I can visit for free on the first Sunday of the month, but it’s also a big tourist destination, which has meant getting to spend time with friends who didn’t think Troyes was worth visiting.


Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Aller au ciné

The price of going to the movies has always been a factor in why I hardly ever go to the movies. Plus, since moving to Paris and no longer being under 26 (the age when Europe no longer considers you jeune), the price I have to pay to go to the movies has exponentially increased, exponentially decreasing my frequency of attendance.

If I do go, however, it’s because I want to see something that is going to be freaking awesome on the big screen. I want explosions. I want magnificent scenery. I want larger than life everything.

Unfortunately in Paris, bigger prices do not equal bigger screens.

On our first trip to the movies, after paying an absurd amount of money for a ticket, the boyfriend and I headed down an endless amount of stairs, and just as I was beginning to suspect we were heading to the center of the earth, when finally we arrived at our salle (room).

The room itself was small. There must have been no more than 50 places, and as such, one would expect the screen to be smaller than say a 200-person room. However, the screen wasn’t even proportional to the room size. It was tiny.


The screen in question. I made sure to include that guy's head for scale.
Suspecting that the problem might have been the fact that we were seeing the movie a while after its release date, I gave Paris the benefit of the doubt and went to the movies again. And again, the screen was miniscule. So much for ever going to the movies!

However, luckily for those of you who wish to see your Hollywood blockbuster on an American sized screen, I do not give up so easily. After visiting several different theaters, I have finally found one that is up to snuff. 

The screen towered high above our heads and was wider than most Parisian buildings. It was even curved, giving the viewer the experience of really being in the movie. The actors were at least three times as big as me. This theater definitely met the criteria for larger than life. 

Check it out:
UGC Ciné Cité La Défense
Le Dôme - Centre commercial Les 4 Temps

Tacos

While most of this blogs chronicles “how weird I think everything French is,” it’s becoming harder and harder to do, as I’ve become steadily more accustomed to life here (five years might do that to a person).

Last weekend, I felt especially comfortable in my little French life. I felt especially Parisian, and it all started off with tacos.

I had given up on ever tasting Mexican food worth eating in France, but then I moved to Paris and had a colleague who was equally desperate for good Mexican food.

After some quick internet research, we decided to go try a little hole-in-the-wall place over by the Canal St. Martin called El Nopal. It was maybe the best decision of my life. The tacos were heavenly, and it wasn’t just my lowered expectations talking.


El Nopal.
Since there is no seating at the restaurant, I (and many others) have made a habit of taking my tacos and beer over to the banks of the Canal St. Martin to bask in the sun’s rays and enjoy the nice view.


Delicious vegetarian tacos.
On this particular visit, after savoring the tacos while engaging in nice conversation, my friends and I walked along the canal and even got to witness a péniche (barge) leveling out the water to make its way up the canal. We stumbled upon a few vide dressing (sort of like pop up second hand stores), and once we made it to the Marais we visited several art galleries.

As evening settled in, we found ourselves on the terrace of a small Parisan café, enjoying glasses of varying varities of French wine.

Before having lived here for so long, I would think eating non-French food would probably be the least Frenchy thing I could do. Even though I already knew that the French eat Mexican food too (the lines outside of El Nopal are a testament to such), it didn't fit into my definition of "French." Now I know better.

I can have my Frenchness, and eat (delicious) tacos too.


Check it out:
El Nopal
3 Rue Eugène Varlin, 75010 Paris

La cantine

My internship has come with many perks. The company is paying for half of my monthly metro pass, there is a small gym with a trainer and group classes available for free (yes, even to us interns), and there are two in house lunch dining options available with very reasonable prices.

Up till now, I have avoided eating at French cantines(dining halls/canteens). My first experience was during my time as a teaching assistant. They didn’t have anything that accommodated vegetarians, and so I would just make myself a sandwich and eat in the teacher’s lounge.

Next up, as a student, the cantine still didn’t have many vegetarian choices, and since I didn’t want to pay €3,50 for a plate of fries and over cooked carrots, I brought leftovers from the previous night’s dinner that I would reheat in the student’s lounge.

But now, as an intern, I eat at the cantine. There are many more options for vegetarians at this cantine, and for that I’m greatful. Plus, they have understood that it is disagreeable to pay the price of a meat meal when you don’t take meat, and charge less for a vegetables-only plate.

All of this is a vast improvement from previous cantine experiences, and I am grateful for cheap eats, especially as everything is expensive in Paris.

That said, I just don’t understand why the French culinary greatness can’t extend to vegetables. It has been my experience that the French think they can just boil a vegetable until its soft, put absolutely no seasoning, herbs, or spices on it, and declare it done.

Normally I love broccoli, carrots, and cauliflower, but every time the cantine serves them they are just lukewarm mush.

After three months, I now know which plates I like and which plates I don’t, and more often than not, the dishes served fall into the don’t category. I’ve gotten pretty good at picking and choosing parts from different dishes to make up a worthwhile plate, but I still think side dishes should be just as important and flavorful as the main attraction.

That's why I put herbes de provence on my hauricots verts(green beans).

1e dimanche du mois

Paris. Despite having spent a semester abroad here, many weeks visiting with my parents, and weekend or day trips visiting with friends, there somehow remains museums and other activities left undone.

While I have enjoyed the freedom of not being obliged to visit 4 museums in one day, or even to “see the sights,” I still want to take advantage of living in the city of light.

That said, things have gotten a lot more expensive in my life recently for two main reasons. First of all, Paris is just darn expensive. Second of all, according to the European Union, I am an old fart.

Paris public museums and monuments are free to residents of the European Union younger than 26 years old, and seeing how I’m now 26, I have to pay my way. Most places don’t even have student-discounted rates. Apparently by 26 years old, you should be done with that whole higher education thing.

Luckily, the city of Paris thinks that everyone should be able to enjoy its many wonderful museums, and so they are made free to the public the first Sunday of every month.

I’ve taken this opportunity to visit some lesser-known museums, including le musée des arts et métiers.

Filled with old timey science apparatuses, cars, planes, construction materials, and communication technologies, this museum is cool.


Science.
It also reinforced the notion of how I am no longer “young,” as it had on display items that were younger than I am (like an iPod).

To top it off, I overheard a young child asking his grandpa, “qu’est-ce que c’est grand père? (what is that, grandpa?)” pointing at a certain item of older technology on display in a glass case.

“ah, ça c’est un magnétoscope pour les VHS (ah, that's a VHS player).” But just stating what it was wasn’t enough. The grandpa had to continue to explain how at one point in time, that was how people watched movies at home.

Nevertheless, it was really cool to see old cars as well as old giant computers, and seeing how much technology has changed over the years made me excited for the future, even if I am "old" now.

Déodorant

Somehow, despite having lived in France for 4 and a half years (admittedly not consecutively), I have avoided up till now purchasing and using French deodorant. And no, I wasn’t just not wearing it! Somehow the deodorants that I’ve brought with me were enough to last.

I use solid deodorant, and I really made my last stick count. I was stabbing the weird plastic-y part at the end with a q-tip to ensure I got every last bit of use out of it. But, one can only put off the inevitable for so long, and so I ventured forth on the search for French deodorant.

Why was I going to such lengths to avoid French deodorant? Well, I have never seen deodorant in a solid form over here. They tend to prefer aerosols where you spray particles under your arms, or liquids.

Granted, I haven't done an extensive search, but as part of my on going quest to integrate into French culture, I decided to branch out.

While I know some of my fellow Americans use liquid deodorant, I never have. So faced with the unknown and my limited number of options, I went for something my compatriots use: liquid deodorant.


I hate it.

It’s wet. It stays wet. It takes eons to dry. If I’m running late and don’t give myself enough time to dry off, the underarms of my clothes get wet.

It’s cold, and I’m already cold in the mornings.

It’s slimy, and after application my underarms remind me more of frog skin than human skin.


My liquid déodorant, aka early morning torture.
I’m just glad I bought a travel size bottle.

However, my travel size solid deodorant lasted me 6 months... Looks like I’ll have to deal with cold, wet, slimy underarms for a while to come yet.

Update: thanks to my awesome readers, I was able to find solid déo!

Stage: le début.

For all my complaining about how unorganized my university is, how uncommunicative the professors and administration are, and how nobody ever seems to know what’s going on, I can at least now say that it has prepared me pretty well for the realities of being an intern in France.

After accepting the offer and settling on a starting date in December, come mid-January I still had no information about how my first day was going to be. This continued until the week before my start date, when I decided that I’d rather know than wait around. I called them to double check the starting date and find out what time I was expected. I then learned that I should be there at 9 in order to attend orientation.

While no further details were given, I was at least grateful to know this little tid bit. Knowing the first day was going to include an orientation calmed my nerves.

While I had them on the phone, I wanted to ask if it would be okay if I took an extra long lunch on Thursday in order to pick up the keys to our new apartment. However, they misunderstood me and thought I said lundi (not jeudi). That’s how I discovered that we were to be lunching with our bosses and other new interns on the first day.

I cleared up the confusion, but was glad that there was some otherwise I'm sure I would’ve been kept in the dark until jour j.

Just like orientation for the master, after my day of learning about the operations of the place, I still felt like I knew how nothing worked. We were not told if there was or wasn’t a strict time to come into the office. We had been told we’d learn how to use their time sheet software, but somehow or other it didn’t happen. I was told my desk would just be temporary, as they hadn’t found a place for me just yet. They then gave me a bunch of papers to read to play catch up on my project, and left me to figure it all out on my own.

Three weeks into it, I am getting the hang of things. I was able to figure out the time sheet situation mostly on my own, and as far as I can tell there are no future plans to change my desk.

I guess France is gonna be France. At least I get to look at this on the walk to the métro every day.


La Défense.

Goodbye Troyes

This Monday I will start my new internship in Paris and say goodbye to Troyes. While the unknowns before me do make this a stressful change, I will not be sad to leave, at least not in the way I was heartbroken to leave Lille.


Timbered houses in Troyes.
Troyes is a beautiful fairy tale miniature city. But whether it was because the university wasn’t actually in the city, or because I was less interested in the cultural opportunities, or because I’m less impressed with (the 9) medieval churches now that they’ve become the norm, I never made Troyes my city in the way that I did with Lille.

I don’t feel at home here like I did in the North. I felt certain that I wanted to get out of Troyes when I did my internship. However, when we walked to the library today to rent some DVDs, I couldn’t help remarking how beautiful this little city is. And how maybe if I’d been less of a homebody, it could’ve felt more mine.

While it’s been fun living in Champagne and drinking bubbly on the cheap (~13€/bottle!), I am ready for a new adventure.

So Goodbye fair city. I will miss the church view from my bedroom window, the small cobblestone streets and timbered houses, and my favorite pizza place. Thank you for a year and a half of discovery, hard work, and not distracting me too much from my studies. I’m sorry I didn’t get to know you as well as I should.

Until we meet again.

Liebster Award

A while ago I was nominated for a Liebster Award by one of my new blogger friends, Dana from As Told By Dana. I've been a bit lazy and the questions she asked were a bit personal so it's taken me a while to get around to it. Nevertheless, I present to you, the Liebster Award!


1. Why did you start blogging?

I started blogging because I wanted to remember every moment where I felt “French.” When French people mistook me for one of them, or I partook in a part of their culture, I wanted to share it. I quickly caught on to the fact that I’ll never be completely French, and now my blog talks more about how weird the French can be (and why I love it).

2. If you could go anywhere in the world, right now, where would you go, and why?

Southern California to spend time with my family and my pets, with a trip to where ever my brother currently is as well. I love to travel and go on adventures, but I have a lot more opportunities to do that than I do to go home and spend quality time with my family. Plus, I could use some good Mexican food.

3. If you had the chance to travel back in time or into the future, which would you pick, and what would you want to see/find out?

I would like to time travel to the future, as Benjamin Franklin said, “The rapid progress true science now makes occasions my regretting sometimes that I was born so soon.” I would love to see the progress humanity has made, not only technologically but also socially.

4. Apple or PC?

Apple. I have a macbook and an iphone.

5. How did we meet?

Through blogland!

6. What is your guilty pleasure?

Right now, it’s Les Ch’tis à Hollywood! I love me some bad French télérealité.

7. At my funeral, I want this song played:

I have thought very little about my funeral. I love Fiona Apple and her album The Idler Wheel is my favorite music so maybe that?

8. What do you think of when you hear, “Wisconsin?”

I think of my cousins. My dad’s sister and her family live in Wisconsin, but it might as well be another country. There are definitely cultural differences between us Californians and them Wisconsinites.

9. What is your favorite season and why?

I think that depends on which country I’m living in! In California, that would definitely be summer. I love spending my days at the beach and nights around a bonfire. In France, it is way too hot and humid in the summer for it to be my favorite. Winter is definitely too cold. I think it rains too much in the Fall, which leaves me with Spring. Spring is probably my favorite season in France because it’s starting to get warm again but it’s not yet humid. Although after writing this I’m coming to realize I might not be all that into this whole season thing, seeing as in Southern California we go from extremely nice weather to a little bit less nice weather during “winter.”

10. I never, ever, want to do this again:

Ride a vomit smelling bus.

11. What do you like most about yourself?

My enthusiasm and excitement about life. I’m a huge geek, love to reread Harry Potter (and read in general), dress up at theme parties, and play games. Sometimes France tries to stifle this part of me, but I really wouldn’t have it any other way, even if it means being a little bit too loud sometimes.


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And so I pass this award as well as the questions Dana posed onto some of my much deserving blogger friends:

Bread is Pain

Kaley... y mas

My Blondering Life

Chez soi.

Winter break was the second time I visited my parents in their new home. The first time I was accompanied by the boy and had so much to show him that nothing felt different, really. Yes, the house was new, but enough of the old pieces of furniture were there (including, as my dad said, “these old pieces of furniture” while referring to himself and my mom) that it still felt like home.

This trip was different. While only a thirty-minute drive away from my old house and my old neighborhood, it was far enough away. I didn’t visit the beach I grew up with. I only got to eat at a handful of my favorite places.

Some of this was due to the fact that my evil brother got me sick and ten days is already too short, but even still it felt more like visiting a new place than coming back to one I knew so well.

I didn’t feel the need to drive down to Beach Cities Pizza and taste the most-delicious-breadsticks-and-ranch-dressing-of-my-life first thing upon arrival, as has been the practice.

There was less urgency in the visit, maybe because I know I’ll come back again some day even if I don't know when. I was more interested in spending time with my family than hitting my old haunts (although I refused to leave California without having gone to the beach at least once).


Obligatory California Ocean sunset picture. The pacific ocean always feels like home.
Part of me can’t help wondering how much of that is due to the fact that France becomes more my home all the time. After summer vacation, I took more things with me to France than I brought back to California. I took things that I’d never taken before, thinking I’d be moving back "home" soon enough.

I still don’t think I’ll live in France for the rest of my life, but it doesn’t feel so temporary anymore. It would seem that France has become more than just my country of residence, even if I need my own personal stash of Cholula to stay sane here.