A Big, Fat, Over Due IOU

So here we go folks, I'm jumping back into the pool of a regular routine. I intend to continue the English version of this blog with an exploration of my latest city, Washington D.C.

It's going to be a bit messy this first post back, but that always seems to be the most challenging part with anything you've let go for a while.

Let's start with a quick musical introduction, shall we?

In essence, the past three months have been spent in mourning. Well, maybe I should rephrase that so it doesn't sound so much like I was crying myself to sleep like a toddler (who didn't get any ice cream because she didn't eat her vegetables at dinner.) Late summer and early fall 2012 could be categorized as "The Meantime." I somehow always end up by a body of water during these periods, pondering the ways of the world and the power of nature. This year, I spent two months by the Atlantic Ocean and then one quick month by the Chesapeake Bay. This included (but was not limited to) bike rides to and from work (sometimes but not always involving singing silly songs with my sister), daily gossip with some very lovely Cape May ladies, wine (lots and lots of it), sunsets and sketching by the sunken ship, hours beyond hours of driving back and forth on 50 and 95, and playing catch up on all of the latest American TV series. So without further ado, here are some of the songs that are so strongly tied to these moments and this whole general process of growing up, closing that French door, and moving towards this new path in the capitol of the good ole US of A.

- Kathleen Edwards, Change The Sheets and  Empty Threat. This lady writes some pretty heavy stuff. My sister introduced me to her a while back, but ole Kath didn't really make sense to me until this year.

-Athlete, Second Hand Stores. I've always skipped their whole CD to get to this song.

- Ellie Goulding, Lights. I've had a girl crush on Ellie ever since she sang with Lissie back in the day.

-Ben Howard, Three Tree Town. This is the best song to just sit outside (preferably with a beer in hand) and just stare up at the stars. His latest song,  Esmerelda has made me fall even more in love/obsessed with his incredible talent. It's already on replay for this winter season.

-Elissa, Ayami Bik. I think that I have all of the dance remixes of this song after going to Tunis. What attracts me the most is that darn violin. In fact, I have brought my old friend with me to Maryland to get back into that pastime and maybe one day sound like these men. Until then, I'll just blast it while driving on the beltway (snake arms and all).

Speaking of driving down 95, I'd like to quickly, very very quickly, vent about how horrible Maryland drivers are. I know that Northeastern drivers are known to speed, but Maryland is another ballgame. I mean let's be honest here, did this state ever focus on turn signals or merging onto the highway during driver's education classes? I probably have honked at more people over these last two months than the past eight years.  They speed then quickly brake to look at a squirrel that just climbed up a tree across the street. Or even better, some drivers will switch to the slow (right) lane to speed up past someone and then only come to a complete stop because, oh hey look, there's a merging lane that needs to get in here too. The Philly attitude comes out quite often.

Moving onwards, last weekend I was so fortunate to finally see one of my oldest friends, Ranjani, perform downtown with the local progressive hip hop star, Chris Stylez. They had never met prior to that evening's performance, which made the night so organic and spontaneous. The location of this event was pretty nifty as well. Bloombars, located in Columbia Heights, is a hip little two story building (with a tea room on the top floor!) Volunteer run, donation only based, Bloombars is exactly what the soul needs for a cultural and inspirational trip. Part concert venue, part theater, part poetry jam session, part children's story hour, Bloombars has a lot to offer for the creative type. I am excited to keep attending their events and hopefully, even with my crazy hours, volunteer once in a blue moon.

Recently, I also was able to check out a few of the local farmer's markets. With Ranjani, I was able to check out DuPont Circle's market a few weekends back. Last weekend, Andrea and I decided to venture out to the closest market in downtown Silver Spring. Finally, this past Sunday, we discovered Eastern Market in downtown DC. It only took us 1 1/2 hours to get there thanks to metro delays, but it was a good find. I cannot wait to go back to the flea market to buy a bunch of fun doodads to decorate my still somewhat empty room.

The outdoor side of Eastern Market

I have never seen a black squirrel. How cool!

One of the only trees left that had contrasting leaf colors.

Playground at the Wheaton Regional Park. I'll be testing out those awesome slides soon!

Yesterday I decided to skip the electronic-based work out center and just get outside. I wanted to smell the crisp air and hear the leaves crunch under my feet. I made my way to Wheaton Regional Park, a mere 15 minute drive from my apartment. It reminded me a lot of Robbins Park back home. This park was large enough to drown out the sounds of construction, traffic, and daily life, but small enough to walk around within an hour. As much as I've been telling other people that teaching is just not for me, seeing all the little tots running up and down that green hill made me miss wiping snotty noses and brushing dirt off of clumsy children. Well not really those particular daily events, but maybe just their confidence in telling me that a dinosaur is indeed in the room above us stomping around because he is hungry.

Out and over,

La Petite Pamplemousse

   

C'est ma direction

 

Donc la dernière fois que j’ai écrit, j’étais à Cape May. Apres mon premier entretien, j’ai eu un offre d'un poste (comme rédactrice) et j’ai vite fait mes valises pour Maryland. Pendant le premier mois j’ai vécue à Arnold (10 minutes d’Annapolis, capitale de Maryland), chez une amie de la famille, Stacey. Elle m’a beaucoup aidé pendant ce passage de ma vie en écoutant mes inquiètes et mes questions au sujet de ma nouvelle direction dans la vie.

Un weekend, j’ai eu la chance d’aller à Washington pour voir mes amis de Lyon.  Vendredi soir, j’ai vu Sarah, mon amie du travail de l’année dernière. On a mangé dans un restaurant indien, Saran Indian Cuisine. C’était super bon la bouffe indienne! On a bien rigolé avec le serveur quand il nous a demandé, « D’où venez-vous ? » 

 « En fait, nous nous somme rencontrées à Lyon en France mais elle vient de Philadelphie et moi, je viens de Orange County. Maintenant j’habite à Oakton et elle habite à Annapolis mais on va bientot démenager, je vais habiter à Alexandria et elle, à Silver Spring....» Il était trop confus.

C’est vraiment bizarre comment la vie continue. J’ai pensé que je vais plus voir mon amie Sarah quand je suis partie de la France, et là, on habite une demie heure de l’autre.  Pareil avec mes deux amis colombiens, Luis Carlos et Sergio. Ils sont venus aux Etats-Unis quand je suis repartie pour la France. J’ai pensé qu’ils vont retourner en Colombie quand je rentrai chez moi, mais ils sont toujours ici (apparemment, les visas américains sont plus simple que les visas français ;)) 

Dimanche matin on est allé à Georgetown pour manger un gros petit déjeuner. On a décidé de marcher un peu pour bien digérer nos « waffles », « pancakes », et breakfast burritos. Quelle bonne idée ! On a trouvé un petit quai comme à Lyon pour se détendre dans le soleil.

En plus, on a marché jusqu'au monument de Washington D.C.

Such a pretty day!

Alexandria across the way

Sergio et Luis Carlos, mes amis colombiens de Lyon

Le quai de Georgetown

I love you, Forrest Gump style

National Book Festival

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Encore plus sur mon appartement la prochaine fois! Gros gros bisous de l'Amérique!

"Pour vanter un beau jour, attends sa fin."

Coucou tout le monde!

Depuis ma dernière entrée sur ce blog, j'ai fait pas mal de choses. Surtout, je me suis réposé avec les vagues à mes côtés et le soleil au-dessus de ma tête. Cette semaine je n'ai plus eu des rendez-vous chez le médecin/dentiste/dermatologue à Philadelphie, donc j'ai profité de mes temps à la plage. Ma petite soeur est partie pour la fac (Université de Pittsburgh), alors c'est un peu bizarre pour le moment sans une colocataire. Mais bon, la vie continue. Je vois bien que le destin a bien fait en me faisant quitter la France (même si elle me manque beaucoup!) Les choses s'arrangent petit à petit et je commence de respirer un peu après tous ce qui m'a arrivé cet année. 

J'ai eu la chance de parler avec plusieurs amies de Lyon la semaine dernière sur Skype. Grace à ces papotages, je me suis souvenue que je dois bloguer en français! Et voila, un peu plus sur Cape May, ma ville pour en ce moment :)

Cape May, NJ est une grande ville de vacances à la côté l'est ( sur la "Top 10" liste de "Travel Channel.") Elle est située au bout de "Jersey Shore". Sortie 0 sur le "Garden State Parkway." La fin de la fin, quoi! Les Philadelphiens sont venus à Cape May à partir de la 18me siècle pour passer leurs vacances. Cape May est connue pour ses maisons Victoriennes, sa plage, son observatoire d'oiseaux, et ses fantômes. Il y a plein de fantômes à cause des incendies et des épidémies. (Je le sais seulement parce que j'ai fait un tour guidée quand étais petite...) Pendant la deuxième guerre mondiale, le gouvernement a ouvert une base militaire en cas où les Nazis nous attaqueront par la côté l'est (Voyez mon dernier entrée). Les natifs de Cape May se sont battus pour garder les maisons Victoriennes pendant la 20me siècle, particulièrement la propriété de Physick. (J'ai fait aussi un tour guidée de cette maison énorme quand j'étais petite. J'avais trop chaud et je me suis assise sur une des chaises originaires. La dame a crié comme une folle...que moi, quoi).  Cette année, il y avait une brassière qui a ouvert ses portes. Il y a aussi plusieurs domaines de vins près de Cape May. Par contre, la plupart de restaurants sont BYOB ("Bring Your Own Booze", comme je dis). Apres 128 ans, West Cape May a changé un peu en ouvrant un magasin de spiritueux.

En bref, cette semaine j'ai eu deux jours où je n'ai pas dû travailler. Pour me reposer encore un peu plus, je suis allée à Sunset Beach. Là, j'ai eu la chance de penser sous le couche soleil. Heureusement, il n'y avait pas de brouillard et j'ai pu voir le bateau englouti :)

Voici quelques photos des maisons Victoriennes en marchant de la plage jusqu'à la bibliothèque ainsi que "Sunset Beach."

Le bateau englouti depuis la première guerre mondiale.

Dauphins chaque jour a Cape May :)

Le tour de la guerre 

L'histoire de Cape May n'est pas assez vieux que les traboules ni les ruines romains de Lyon, mais comme c'est beau quand même!

À la prochaine mes grenouilles ;) 

La petite pamplemousse

Gold Guns Girls

Gun control seems to be a very prominent issue this summer. Of course, coming from the Philadelphia area, gun control has always been an issue. But on a more national level, it just seems to get worse. Six years ago I sat in my freshman dorm and awaited my friend to walk across campus to class. The day started off strange. On April 16th, it was snowing in Harrisonburg, Virginia. It wasn't like we were in northern New York where snow was a normal thing to see a majority of the school year. And then a girl started screaming down the hall. A student had started a shooting rampage at Virginia Tech, a mere 2 hours away. When we left for class, the campus police had not yet found him. They knew that Seung-Hui Cho had entered and shot at one class, but there were more deaths to come. Needless to say, our class didn't really go as our professor had planned. She urged us to call our families and friends, knowing that events like this spark fear as fast as wildfires. Many of my classmates had friends attending Virginia Tech and anxiously awaited any news from them. A large portion of the freshman population had chosen JMU over Virginia Tech and the "what if" thoughts began to take an emotional toll on our campus. Presidents of universities and colleges across the nation made efforts to set up emergency contact systems for their students in case of future dilemmas. We received occasional text messages about potential MS 13 gang activity at the local Walmart or parks. But, in essence, text message and email warnings can only do so much for us.

I recently went to the local Regal Cinema to see Batman: Dark Knight Rises. Despite the fact that the Aurora shooting had occurred a week prior, I was still scared shitless to enter a dark room knowing that a group of citizens had done the same and never thought they would make it out alive when the gunshots rang out. Before my family and I entered the long hallway of theaters, a police officer checked our bags. I'm very much used to security after flying about the past two years, but I have never walked into a movie theater expecting to be searched for weapons. The movie only fueled the fire of fear within me as i watched. I just waited for the moment news-reporters described as James Holmes' cue to kill innocent movie-goers. Once it had gone I didn't feel relief. I felt disgust that the most violent movies continue to be the biggest sellers. Thinking back to the previews, I just felt ashamed that millions of dollars are put into these crappy story lines that revolve around guns, gold, and girls. Don't take this the wrong way. I'm not stating that we're the only country that promotes violence in our online videos, television series, and movies. That simply would be a stupid thing to say. But the ever present feeling that it is normal to think that the person next to you may or may not have a handgun tucked into his or her belt freaks me the hell out. Perhaps that is why I feel more scared in my own country than abroad. The fact that guns are legal.

I'm not trying to start a political discussion about our right to arms, our Constitutional values, or our Founding Fathers ideas for our nation. Far from it. I'm merely just explaining how I have changed after living abroad for two years. I'm just a little freaked out about my home country like this guy, (only that I vow not to buy myself a gun).

When I first arrived in France, I knew that I would be teaching in St. Fons, the neighboring town of Vénissieux. From what I had heard, Vénissieux was not a exactly the place to be. Terrorism ties linked back to the neighborhood and there was a huge population of North African immigrants. I went into it as a typical brainwashed naive American would. Seeing women with their hijabs and men in the traditional kaftan on the bus on my way to school shocked me. It's quite unfortunate and embarrassing to admit, but I was nervous. Why? Because for the most part, Americans only tend to glance at the negative aspects of Islam and Muslim dress after 9/11.  For a large majority of Americans, if you talk about someone being Muslim, they automatically assume that this person has connections to a terrorist group. It is true that there have been quite a few shootings in France this year as well, most of which were located in or around the Southwestern city of Toulouse. Yet, despite the shock of it all, I didn't get that pang of nervousness and fear as i do every time I read about a new attack back here. I didn't feel that my personal security was at risk like I would have if i had been on American soil during the Trayvon Martin shooting. I didn't walk the streets of Lyon in fear of randomly being shot. Whereas, the one time my GPS decided to take me through Philadelphia to get back home from the Jersey shore, I turned my head at a red light to check for a street sign only to lock eyes with two men as they jumped onto a Septa bus with AK 47s.

In any case, I'm running away from the point I want to make in this post. What I imagined Vénissieux to be going into my first month in France turned out to be far from reality. Sure there were plenty of sad stories which you can go back and read in my 2010-2011 posts to read, but in essence, I never once had one of my students or their parents come up to me and threaten me because of my American nationality or Catholic upbringing. Quite the contraire. When my students would point me out to their parents as I waited for my bus back to Lyon, both parents and children alike would wave and smile as I said "Hello <name>". These children would come to class and tell me about their background. I quickly learned the North African and Middle Eastern flags from the jogging suits and sweatshirts my students sported. Some would go back to Syria, Morocco, Algeria, Turkey, or Tunisia (to name just a few countries) during our long vacations. Others simply vowed that they were 100% French. It was a challenge to understand these children and their understanding of the world. They thought I was a celebrity because I was American. Some friends of mine would always make comments about my wealth (because we all know every American is ridiculously rich). And still others congratulated me for moving to a different country on my own and experiencing a new world alone. And it sure was a different mindset. The racism question went from the traditional American Black vs. White to Arab vs. French. The lifestyle went from ridiculous amounts of consumerism to buying one bags worth of groceries every two or three days because you had to walk what you bought all the way home. Food went from an over processed, greasy, calorie obsessed world to a land of weekly (in some areas daily) open markets with a plethora of non-pasteurized cheeses. A primarily Christian dominate country to a more secular one with a huge Catholic history and an ever growing Islamic presence.

It was a big change, but I changed for the better as a result. I just wish that more Americans would push away the garbage found across all of today's media sources and find out about other cultures, religions, and people for themselves. Had I not traveled to Morocco or Tunisia, I would have never found the appreciation I have today for their people. I more than likely would have gone on thinking that they were "backwards societies" because of their recent political revolutions. Sure there are plenty of Muslim majority countries that have awful historical records, but aren't we also found a bit guilty with our death penalty laws? Tell me just one time you have watched the news without hearing about a money, race, or religion based attack.

I had many interesting, eye opening conversations while in Morocco and Tunisia. For those of you who may or may not have known, I dated a French-Tunisian while in France. One night his cousin, Lilia, said, "I feel stupid asking this, but don't you feel weird having an Arab boyfriend. I mean he's pretty black compared to other Arabs...you're white AND you're American....Doesn't that bother you? Aren't you supposed to be against us Muslims?"

My answer was no. Why should I feel weird? Why should race determine our feelings towards another person? Why should a religion restrict potential friendships? And more importantly, why do we always have to resort to violence to end a disagreement?

I'd like to end with a quotation by Anouar Majid, a Moroccan born American citizen who recently published the book, Islam and America. It goes a little like this:

The conflicting views of America, both globally and even nationally, are inevitable given the size and      history of the country. It is a nation of many trends and backgrounds, where the past exists in tension with the present, prosperity is threatened with collapse, secularism challenged by the ghosts of the Puritan past, and the passion for freedom at home is undermined by the drive for control abroad. The country continues to be an experiment, which is at it should be, since being alive means going through change (82).

I highly suggest Majid's book as well as the fictional story, The Good American. Needless to say I've been doing a lot of reading lately. Next up: American nations : a history of the eleven rival regional cultures of North America.

Out and over,
La petite pamplemousse

"There's No Place Like Home"

Dit Dorothy dans le film, Le Magicien d'Oz. Elle a raison, c'est sûr. Même si la France me manque déjà, je suis heureuse de vous présenter un peu de ma vie americaine. Donc, on y va!

Quand je suis arrivée chez moi, je n'ai pas vu cette surprise que ma mère a fait (car il faisait nuit et ma tête ne pouvait plus après 22 heures de voyage).

Chez moi

Le première weekend aux States s'est passé trop vite. On est vite parti pour la plage (Cape May). Là, on a fêté l'anniversaire de ma soeur. Elle a 21 ans maintenant! Si vous ne savez pas, aux Etats-Unis on n'a pas le droit de boire avant 21. Donc, on a bien bu tout le weekend. On a préféré Martini Beach (parce qu'après quelques bons martinis, tout allait bien dans la vie.)

Le gâteau de ma soeur, fait par Maman

Dimanche, on est allé chez mon cousin pour rencontrer son nouveau fils, Dexter. Ma mère a fait encore un grand gâteau pour la famille. C'était trop bien de voir toute ma famille autour de ce petit bébé.

Apres une semaine, j'ai pris la décision de déménager à Cape May pour la fin de l'été. Je travaille avec ma soeur dans un petit magasin sur le grande boulevard de shopping qui s'appelle, "Whale's Tale" Le seul truc est que ma soeur est mon chef (elle est responsable). Le travail est pareil que mon poste à Rehoboth. On vends les mêmes trucs, on a les mêmes horaires, etc, etc. Donc, je m'habitue très vite ici.

Fancy Mason Jar Drink = Framboises, rhum, basilique, citron, sucre. Délicieux!

Crabe, salade de tomates et concombres, courge d'été= Prémier repas avec ma soeur

Un jour après le travail, je suis allée à "Cape May Point." (J'avais besoin de me promener à côté de quelque chose historique après mes promenades à Lyon.) Pendant la deuxième guerre mondiale, notre gouvernement a mis les grands tours pour surveiller les sous-marins allemands. À "The Point" il y a aussi un grand bunker. C'est tout fermé (pour les raisons de sécurité), alors j'ai fait que le tour de l'extérieur.

Malheureusement, les nuages sont arrivées quand j'ai approché le grand bateau (qui est immergé dans l'eau). Les américains avaient la tres bonne idée de faire un grand bateau en béton. (Oui, j'ai bien dit béton). Bien sûr que l'ennemi ne nous a pas attaqué car le bateau n'est même pas parti de la côté l'est.

Finalement, je voudrais vous dire que l'accent canadien est juste horrible. Je sais que j'ai toujours un accent en français, mais bon le français n'est pas ma langue maternelle. Eux, ils mâchent les mots comme je n'ai jamais entendu. J'essaie de parler en français avec les gens qui viennent faire du shopping dans mon magasin mais putain. Je pense chaque jour à l'émission "Secret Story" quand la canadienne (je me souviens plus de son nom) se bagarre avec tout le monde. Elle crie pour cinq minutes, elle claque la porte, et quelqu'un répond, "Putain, j'ai rien compris ce qu'elle a dit." En bref, il y a du monde ici qui viennent de Canada pour les vacances.

Observatoire d'oiseaux près de ma maison

C'est tous que j'en ai pour le moment. Je vous souhaite une très bonne nuit et à bientôt mes amis!
Gros bisous
La Petite Pamplemousse

Problems Come and Problems Go

I suppose I can no longer cheat you all with pretending that I am still frolicking around in France. In fact, it would be rude and dishonest to not confess the truth to my faithful readers out there.

It really has not dawned on me that I have been back in the USA for almost two weeks. I am not sure if I have just grown immune to what has been going on or if I am mentally and emotionally already moving on towards a new life challenge. As a friend of mine put it, if I were to have cried every time I received some sort of new information about my situation in Lyon, my eyeballs would have already popped out of my head. Indeed, the last time I cried was at the American Consulate over a month ago. I sobbed the entirety of my two hour meeting (well, once they finally had the guts to stop lying about being there for me.) In essence, they claimed that they would do absolutely nothing for me if I were put into prison for staying in France to fight for my rights. I find it quite ironic how we are brought up to believe that we should always fight for what we believe in, yet when we do that, no one seems to care unless there is money involved behind the scenes or a life (more so multiple lives) at risk. 

In any case, I am not asking for your empathy. What is done, is done. So I keep strong on the outside and replay Steve Job's graduation speech at Stanford University hoping that this past dot is leading to an even better future me. Who knows maybe all of the technical, complex French I learned through all of the letters I received from the Direction du Travail, Préfècture, Tribunal, other lawyers, and judges will come into play later down in the line when I am an International Law lawyer. Or perhaps it will push me to fight for foreigner rights in my own country. Who knows what life has in store for me.

Until then I can only laugh at the fact that I had two police officers with me at all times in the airport. They refused to hand over my passport until I was buckled into my seat. (And the damn seat belt sign was not even on yet.)  However, I absolutely cannot take it for granted that I cut all of the lines for check-in, baggage drop, security, AND was the first (escorted) person onto my plane out of France. It still seems all so surreal that this was my life. That I was kicked out of a country I love as much as my own and treated like a criminal when I did absolutely nothing wrong. But, life goes on and when one door closes another opens, and all that optimist jazz.

Ultimately, I want to thank all of you who have supported my move to France, who have kept in contact despite the time differences and distances, who have cared about my life abroad, and most of all who have bothered to take five minutes out of their lives to read what I have written on this blog. Without you I would have never bothered to keep this thing going. I know that there are millions of blogs out there in the mysterious internet galaxy about teach abroad experiences, daily life happenings, traveling, food, and happiness, but thank you for reading MINE! I feel BLESSED to know that you have followed me around France, England, Ireland, Germany, Switzerland, Italy, Sweden, Denmark, Morocco, and Tunisia the past two years.

So where do you come back into the picture dearest reader? Well, I've got a two part plan. I suppose you could take a gander that I don't give up. Everything is all in the making/editing/figuring out phase but at least I am putting you first in my plan right?

For my English speakers, I will be doing more of an opinion section and I am up for any and all comments, big, small, ridiculous, or controversial. Please sign up to leave your thoughts.

For my French speakers, I will be writing to you in French (please correct my grammatical mistakes), showing you America from an authentic American point of view. The reality, not the media provoked bullshit you are used to seeing on your television sets and iPhones.

So that's that. Until next time, un grand merci to all who continue to support me through this journey. And please do not leave without listening to this lovely band: click here.
Bisous,
La Petite Pamplemousse

Growing Old Is Getting Old

I've always loved this song by Silversun Pickups. The guitar is dreamy in the beginning and badass at the end, the bass consistent and reassuring, and the lyrics just perfectly written. I think the slow crescendo is what really grabs my attention.

It's funny how certain songs bring back certain memories, or even more so how you fall in love with a song and you don't really know why until something happens to you that resembles what is told in the lyrics. It's quite an interesting genre of art, music. It really determines a whole heck of a lot in terms of our happiness. I feel like we don't really take the time to think about what we listen to these days and it's a shame because there are some really talented people out there who are shining behind the multi millionaires who control the industry. Anyways....

These past few weeks I've been listening to a ton of old music that is just starting to make sense in my life. Some examples:

• Ambling Alp - Yeasayer
• The End Has A Start- The Editors
• Float On - Modest Mouse
• Ramble On - Led Zeppelin
• Lost - Coldplay
• Slide Show- T.I. and John Legend

In essence, this past year has been a hard one. I don't think I've ever faced more dilemmas, more drama, more heartache than at the age of 23. My patience has been tested, my love for the little things in life has gotten me through each day, and my blind faith in fate has pushed me to keep strong. I am not at all who I was when I first came to France almost 2 years ago. However, instead of dwelling on specifics about my past, I'd rather look forward and keep my mind full of hope and determination. I will keep my head up because 24 started out wonderful. I saw Mont Blanc for the first time from Lyon (up at the top of the Fourvière.) I sat there just taking in the beauty of the city, the contrast of red roofs and white snow, the  blinding sunlight. Maybe I'm crazy, maybe I've lost any and all common sense (you can't really blame me, I've always been book smart, not street smart), or maybe I have just gotten too wrapped up in the romantic lifestyle here in France. But if one thing is for sure, Florence Welsh has got it right: "It's always darkest before the dawn."

Mont Blanc!

Mont Blanc

My life

What a beauty

To make my birthday week even better, I had my belly dance recital on Sunday. Last year I was so nervous! This year the only thing i was nervous about was splitting my pants when I had to throw myself to the floor at the end of the second dance. I'm not one to brag, but I'm pretty damn proud of myself. I've come a long long way. I haven't danced since I was 8 and back then i did jazz, tap, and ballet. Definitely not the same as belly dancing! And of course i have to mention that during my very first dance recital I decided to sit down in the middle of the stage I was so scared. So as my Mom puts it, "You've come a long way. Sitting in a lobster costume and barely moving your claws to "Under the Sea" to dancing half naked in front of 600 people."

You can watch the videos here (right click for the first dance) and here (for the second dance). (They were taped by my friend's boyfriend so there are a couple parts where he does close-ups on her).

My belly dancers (Beginner's class)

My past two weeks in Lyon have been very hectic as I'm still trying to fight the French government for my paperwork. Yep, 10 months later and the battle is still going on; BUT, I won't give up! Tuesday afternoon I took a breather from the chaos and headed to my French "family's" house in Chalon-sur-Saone. I enjoyed the countryside, home cooked meals, and company of my adopted French parents, Remy and Marie-Line (you might remember them from last december when they rescued me from getting stuck in France during the snow storm).

Yesterday my friend Catherine invited me and two other friends to her house in Trévoux. She made us a wonderful lunch and we managed to eat this whole pie!

Catherine's Chocolate Pear Pie!

After lunch we headed into the town center to check out the old Parliament house (now the tax office and local court house). Inside the court room there were beautiful frescoes from the 1600s. As always, I was amazed by the ancient artwork. 

The dash slanted in this direction announces the legitimacy of Francois I's son.

After the French Revolution, these three flags were painted over the original violent scene.

                                       

                                                 Trévoux

Left side for the donkeys, right side for pedestrians.

Old contraption once used to dig up diamonds!

We stopped for ice cream and then headed off into the Beaujolais. What a wonderful (but hot) day to drive through the vineyards and red-stoned villages. During our drive we stopped at Oignt, home of Louis Pradel (the old mayor of Lyon). Apparently Mr. Pradel ordered for the rose gardens at the Parc de la Tete d'Or in memory of his hometown. He also created the Fourvière tunnel to prevent traffic jams (and become more welcoming to out of town visitors). Not sure if seeing 4 weddings in one day is a sign either, but it sure was a beautiful day for those newlyweds.

Ahh, la campagne :)

Old Medieval washing area (below the fence)

Ah simplicity

All in all, a wonderful start to a new year and a new me. If all goes well you will be able to continue tracking my adventures on this blog. A more philosophical post up next...

Keep dry in this rain and keep those spirits high because the dog days are over....well at least for the next 2 days here in Lyon.