Harry Potter taught me French and other thoughts

You never really realize how much you love and rely on public transportation until it’s, oh, cut off at 6pm. Come back TCL! I won’t throw bombs at you! Not that anyone did throw bombs, in case you were wondering. Thankyouverymuch American medias, for blowing the situation out of proportion. A special shout-out here to Fox News for comparing the suburbs of Paris to Baghdad. Because that’s true. Oh wait, it’s not.

I was recently an innocent victim of that ever-present “confusion about French national holidays, what we’re actually celebrating, and do I have to go to work?” Last week I discovered that I didn’t have to teach at Chevreul on Friday, due to some holiday that was explained to me but which I promptly forgot. A little confused, I asked Laurie if Lyon 2 was open that day, thinking that I would get a half-day from the lack of Chevreul and then drag myself to the Centre Oregon to pull my afternoon shift. She then kindly explained that no, Lyon 2 was not open because the 11th was a National Holiday. Wow, I thought- another National Holiday, and right after Toussaint too! This National Holiday was, in fact, the Armistace 1918, where we celebrate the end of World War I. (side note- when I was little I thought that you said “war war” and not “world war.” I thought that saying “war” twice implied the gravity of the war. It took me a long time to realize my mistake) This made me happy to be in France, as no way would we get this day off in the States. Or so I thought, until I realized that November 11th in the States is Veterans’ Day, which celebrates a pretty similar thing. Yet another occurrence of “countries that celebrate pretty much the same thing but call it by different names to confuse poor foreigners living abroad.”

I’m going to watch part of Pieces of April, and then come back and finish writing. It’s getting harder to write in English, not because I can’t speak English anymore, but because I keep wanting to put direct French translations of things, which would mean nothing in English. Sorry.

Ok, I’m back. I may be showing part of the movie in a class I’m teaching this week and next, since we’re probably going to be talking about Thanksgiving. They probably here about it from every English assistant, so I’m trying to find a new angle. Which may or may not include “let’s watch part of Gina’s favorite movie!”

Anyway, this holiday weekend turned out to be a winner. Friday I went to a friend’s birthday celebration at a bar that just happened to be on a boat. Besides the fact that Marc and I needed a long time to figure out how to actually get down to the quai since everything is under construction, it was lovely and I was happy to be the youngest at something. What a crazy group of internationals we were, and did I mention that we were on a boat? Saturday afternoon I had a humongous and wonderful lunch at Debeaux, the patisserie owned by one of my landlord’s brother. I was a good pretend-French girl and sat there for two and a half splendid hours, ending with a tour of the patisserie-making area. And yes, Sarah, we’re going back, I already told them that you’re coming. After shopping for Christmas decorations with my roommate proved futile- too many people!- a few friends showed up at my place to knit and make dinner and bake. (And yes, SHUT UP about the Christmas thing- there is no Thanksgiving here, so it’s already Christmas season. So there). Baking was provided by my new oven, which I love so much I want to send it a card. After the year and a half it took to cook what we deemed a metric-shit-ton of potatoes for the mashed potatoes we were ready for dinner. Good thing we had bought those butter cookies. And that wine. The evening didn’t so much disintegrate as get more and more interesting. At one point I was sitting on my kitchen floor, distressed, and trying to understand what seemed to be a text message in code, but turned out to be, well, phonetic? (And yes, after drinking a few glasses of wine I was almost yelling “oh my GOD- it’s in code!) Shouldn’t real French people know not to send me messages like this? Mandee contributed to the de-coding with her knowledge of “French words I learned from reading Harry Potter.” Normally this would be wonderful, but unfortunately this time it led to a misunderstanding where I thought that someone wanted to take revenge on me. After much distress, I finally looked up the expression in my dictionary and learned that it did not imply vengeance, but rather that said person just wanted to see me again. Crisis averted. It was at this point that Mandee and Maria suggested that I drop my entire current MA essay and write instead on the culture of text-messaging in France. Or how to write in code. I swear, I could totally be on Alias now. Not that I can ever see Alias. But I’d be such a great spy, and Jennifer Garner and I could be best friends.

Anyone who can explain to me why I just made MORE coffee wins a cookie (cookie to be provided by you). Perhaps it’s because of the new addition to my life, the best friend of the mini-four (oh baked goodness!), the just-like-I-had-in-the-States-regular-sized coffee pot. Don’t get me wrong, I was fine without one. As addicted as I am to coffee, (and not one of you can deny this fact, traceable back to my first study abroad and my days at the College Days) I have not been the girl screaming “Where the fuck is my grande extra-hot skinny latte?” I have been drinking my espresso like a good girl. Sometimes I’ve even added sugar, possibly due to the allure of the ever-present sugar cube (I swear, I am THE person that people market to. Just ask me about the Stella McCartney H&M experience). But when mom showed up and offered to add a coffee pot to my existence here, I wasn’t going to say no. Since then it’s been earning its keep, just as all of my former pots did, but this time filled with Carte Noir and drunk out of tea-cups because I.have.no.coffee.mugs. Actually, I own approximately a zillion, but they’re all in the States. Anyone want to send me my brand-new-never-been-used-since-I-bought-it-at-Anthropologie chocolate cupcake mug? Cause that would be great here. It’s green, in case anyone forgot.

Note to everyone- if you are one of those people who mentioned at one time or another that you might want to come and visit, please let me know when this potential visit would be. I’m looking at breaks and weekends and visits and trying to figure out who will be where when. And if there’s a fight for a certain week I’m totally refereeing it. I’ll even get a whistle.