Quel est ton problème?

Everyone in The Devil Wears Prada has better clothes than I do

2006-07-25T07:55:00.000+02:00

Let's start with the required fields- Yes, it's very very hot. It is wierd being back after being gone for almost a year, especially in a place that's so different. No, I haven't seen too many people, mostly my parents and Sarah. No, really, it is that hot. I'm still going back to Lyon. And yes, my spelling is somethin' crazy right now. I tried to invent words all through a Scrabble game with mom. She would have none of it.

On to the more fun stuff... I forgot what it was like to get fun mail. Mostly because of the insane cost of postage, I don't get a ton of mail in Lyon (except from Mom and people who insanely want my money, like my cell phone provider and the electricity people). So I rejoice in getting good mail here. Emmy sent me the bestest little owl finger puppet who is anxious to join his comrades for some picture-taking sessions, even if they'll never reach a beginning French class. Then I morphed into overly-spoiled land when I got a Huge.Old.Envelope from Kelli, who I got to know through her wristlet swap. Kelli's wristlet is currently in the "construction" process, but I will say that it involves some knitting needles and some pretty funky buttons. But anyway, Kelli, as always more on the ball than I am, already sent me massive amounts of goodies- a knitting roll (so I can stash my needles in the same place), an adorable bag with polka-dotty accents (and a GIRAFFE tag- you can't really say enough about a person who uses giraffe tags, can you?), new needles, and the arizona-sun inspired wristlet itself, which was filled with great stuff that I attacked. You may be now saying to yourself, "Self, if all of these things are so cool, then why aren't there any pictures?" It is because Gina is too LAZY to take pictures. No seriously, I've taken like 3 since I've been here. And that's pathetic. I promise I will tomorrow. Yeah, tomorrow.

No one has yet laughed out loud, but I know they're all thinking the laughing in their head when I go out in my bermudas and pearls and huge sunglasses. I don't care what you think people- I'M COOL IN FRANCE.

Eating and drinking have been two of my main occupations since arriving here. Notice that "exercise" is absent from this list. Shit yo. But I only have 3 weeks to eat all the Mexican food I can! And my deep dark heart of coal has been showing itself as I've been to Starbucks almost every single day. Baaaaaa. But after that first technicolor drink experience I got scared and have only been drinking iced cofees or lattes. Don't worry, the real coffee drinking has been done in the privacy of my own home or at Le Buzz, the best place I know in Tucson. Every time I come back my parents seem to know more people there. We're gunning for a Le Buzz regular's cafe tour of France. I've offered my apartment for slumber-party-style sleeping. I'll keep you posted on that progress. If you're in the Tucson-area (and if you are why haven't you called me???) you should head on over to the B-line on 4th ave, where my best friend Sarah will be Shtaking over the baking/pastry duties (except the bread) on Wednesday. I've honestly never been, but you know that I will go now. She'll also be doing the desserts for dinner, which I hear is quite good. (note- if this is not true, the person to blame is Heather, who told me so)

While we're on the topic of friends, I feel the need to mention (again?) that Toni is coming on Wednesday night. Yes, this Minnesota girl decided to brave the insane desert heat that is Tucson right now to fly out for a visit. Expect much organized craziness, impromptu photo sessions and general girlie things that boys make fun of. Except Alex. Because he's wonderful. (okok, so he makes fun of me for other things, but not this. So he wins)

It's incredible how Alex and I can finally be in the same time-zone again, but unable to communicate due to the wonderful non-working power of my french cell. It's a complicated techinical thing that I don't understand, but it's easier for us to talk when I'm in France. Biiiiiiizarrrrrrre. I am already tired of this whole separation thing, and I'm not afraid to whine about it. But, on the whole, it's ok, because he's doing what he wanted to do and I'm doing what I want to do. Besides spending time with him. But on peut pas tout avoir, n'est-ce pas? September isn't that far away. I spend more time than I'd care to admit sending him seemingly cute emails that recount nothing of importance, except maybe that day's temperature. Poor guy. When he gets back I'll probably shower him with cupcakes. Ok, so I won't really shower/throw them at him, because that would be a waste of cupcakes, but you get my drift. Between me, the new silicone cupcake pan that FITS in my oven, and the cupcake book there will be NO STOPPING ME. AHAHAHAHA.

Oh Martha Stewart, your cookie of the month does NOT make 3 dozen. Or I just can't correctly identify 3/4 inch. Actually, either option here could be completely true.

A girl of many hats...

2006-07-20T07:49:00.000+02:00

In Dordogne, Kelsey and I were princesses. (and no, I don't want to talk about the shrug. It's CUTE when it's not doing funny things like that)

Clearly, in Arizona I'm a pirate. So's Sarah. What a difference a country makes.

2006-07-17T19:11:00.000+02:00

Helloooooooooo America!

2006-07-14T07:17:00.000+02:00

Dear everyone-
Happy 14 juillet! Yay France! Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take a plane to Arizona. I leave you in the capable hands of last 14 juillet, "Selected moments in French history with finger puppets." Enjoy the selection.
A plus tard, crocodile

La Chanson de Roland

The theatre of Racine

The storming of the Bastille, the aftermath

2006-07-09T18:30:00.000+02:00

You have not known true happiness until you have walked through a small but crowded-full with vendors Sunday market, surrounded by cafes and boulangeries, bumping shoulders with eager customers, tasting anything anyone gives you, listening to the church bells, dodging other baskets and filling yours with- salad, fresh currents and groseilles, apricots, a wedge of St. Nectaire, a baguette studded with thyme, pate en croute and some smoked bacon. The fruits are calling out for some sort of baking, which I can't tonight because on est en finale!

Wow, I live here. But I'll be making a special guest appearance in Tucson for 3 weeks only, starting on Friday. Margaritas and sushi, here I come. Won't you come too?

2006-07-07T02:04:00.000+02:00

These weeks, they're strange weeks. Summer is a time that seems to be seperate from the rest of the year for me, but this summer has determined so many things for me that are definitely not seperate from everything else.

Summer is the time I know best in France. It's what I knew of this place before I showed up last August, ready to hit the year running. Walking on the shady side of the wide street. The smell on the streets- apres rain mixed with exhaust mixed with cigarette smoke mixed with cafes. The smells of cooking coming out of windows. Confused tourists with maps. Forgetting to take sunglasses off when you walk down into the metro. Summer here makes me ridiculously happy. Every single time I look out my window and see all the rooftops or even just walk down the street I get happy chills. I hope that feeling never goes away. Last night a friend was starting to get nervous about leaving and suddenly stopped and said "Oh my god Gina, you live here now!"

So for the record, yes, I do live here now. Earlier this week I was accepted into the Masters program in Metiers des arts et de la culture. I found out officially today, but a friend of the Centre Oregon who works with the program was there when they made the lists, and leaked the information to Laurie, who leaked it to me. This is basically my dream program, so now I get to stay in a place that I love and do something that I love. (Ok, something that I love that involves learning accounting. In Freeeeeeench) This is two more years of school, with an internship each year. Watch out French art scene- here I come! Be warned. Also, my Masters from U of O was made official, so you do all have to call me Master now. Just kidding. Well, not really.

And now, to lighten the mood, i would like to share Alex's impressions on the 4th of July (via my translation) - "You people sure have a lot of flags." I am rather upset that HE got to see fireworks, and I don't even get 14 juillet fireworks because I'll be in ARIZONA then. And no, I won't get to see him while I'm there, because Spokane is far. And he has next to no free time. This is what we call a "bummer." It's ok, I still love him, even when he wakes me up in the middle of the night with text messages. That would be my fault for leaving the phone on. I'm already on the sappy train, so now would probably also be a good time to mention that right before he left, after i spent the night having random acts of crying, he hid notes ALL over my apartment. Wait, did I already say this? When I found the first one I cried. Everywhere, people, everywhere. Of course I saved them all.

2006-07-07T01:48:00.000+02:00

Since dinner here isn't usually until around 8 or 9, I've gotten into the habit of the "quatre heures." This literally means "4 o'clock" and represents the time when you have your snack. Yes, snack time is planned into the day. How could you NOT love a country where you're supposed to have a snack? Today, since I was out running errands (read- buying silk, how chic does that make me sound?), this was my quatre heures:
A boule of glace a la violette and a sirop cassis. Which translates to a)violet ice cream and water with current sirop, b) sugar overload but who cares and c)a snack pleasing to Gina's aesthetics. And NO I did not choose it because of the colors. Entirely.
This was outside at L'epicerie, the bar a tartines that I've mentioned before, which is one of my favorite places here. You can also see part of Lila and Lila's tart. I did not eat this tart, which is rare. I was rather attached to my glace, you see.

Allez les bleus!

2006-07-07T01:32:00.000+02:00

If you know me, you'll know that I'm not a sports person. That I'm pretty much the opposite of a sports person. But this country has gotten to me, or the World Cup has gotten to me, and now I've become one of the screaming masses. I watched France trounce (if you can call it trouncing) Portugal in my favorite funky bar on Wednesday, surrounded by cheering (and screaming at the refs) people. Normally I would have been like "Shut up people! Let me drink in peace!" but this is DIFFERENT. This, mes amis, is the Coupe du Monde. And France has hit the finals, which is going to be a Gina's heritage show-down between France and Italy. I will watch on Sunday. And then I may or may not be one of the people in the following pictures-

Place Bellecour- there were flame eater/throwers, people on street signs, people screaming anf singing, people everywhere. And this was only the semis. Also, the guy on the left is being interviewed by some sort of camera person, but I have no idea of how official it was.

Some people take the "matching your accessories to your outfit" rule just a bit too seriously. Unless he really dyed his hair those colors, and that would be a)a really stupid idea and b)actually sort of impressive- how did he get the lines so straight?

Better view of the flame stuff. There were cars coming through all night, honking and waving flags out the window. The back-up was to near chez moi, which is a 20-minute walk away. But the feeling, people, the feeling! This is an entire country getting excited about something. This is people running around carrying flags that are bigger than them. This is the French team being national heroes. I'm definitely in love with Alex, but after goalie Barthez's incredible saves last night, I must say that my affection is a bit shared. Ps don't tell Alex. PPS, I'm just kidding. About the affections, not the telling.

Gallery of moving...

2006-07-02T00:28:00.000+02:00

I thought you might want to see some pictures of the moving-in process here at 51 bis rue Saint Michel. I took these when all of my stuff (well, except for a few last things) had been moved, but hardly anything had been unpacked. Scary, isn't it? So from the top...
*The kitchen. Ok, so the stuff that wasn't here yet was kitchen stuff, and this is not the scariest point in the kitchen moving process. That came a little later when I realized just how many spices I had.
*One of the only sane parts, in my room. The fireplace mantle (it doesn't work) and my bedside table, actually a tv stand. I built the table, as well as the book-case you'll see below (and I discovered that carrying 20 kilos of stuff back from IKEA by myself on public transportation is HARD). I put up a bunch of pictures pretty quickly so it would start to feel like home. And because I'm a sappy dork and a shit-ton of them are of me and Alex. Sorry. And those huge doors? Are my closet.
*Hall, with boxes. And IKEA bags!
*Part of desk and bookcase. Hey, at least the books are mostly unpacked. But still not that organized, sadly. The order in which I did things was honestly pretty amusing.
*View into the hallway from my room. You can see the paint job, which was redone when Julie's parents bought the place- my room is two shades of green with ecru curtains that are the same color as my bedspread, quite randomly. The decorating that I've done (on frames, etc) is mostly those colors with some pink and purple accents, which sounds so middle-school-in-the-80s, but actually looks very nice.
*My bed with random shit all over it. It's so big that it was hard to resist the temptation to just THROW everything on it and then sit in a corner and cry. But the light crown was hanging, so all was well in the world.

But no fear, mes amis- the apartment no longer looks like this and is in fact quite lovely now. Well, Julie's part always was, now my part has caught up. There's still nothing on my walls though, which is dissapointing. Ideas?

Demi-final!

2006-07-02T00:20:00.000+02:00

For all of you who may not be up-t0-the-minute on World Cup news, here's a flash- France just took down Brazil 1-0. It was an INCREDIBLE game- I didn't know if les bleus could pull it off, but they did. Now we're in the demi-finals, or semi-finals, against Portugal on Wednesday. The other demi is Italy/Germany. This could get crazy, people. Already everyone is driving around Lyon honking horns and waving huge French flags out their car windows. I love seeing all this enthousiasm for soccer, as opposed to football or basketball or the like, which I sorta think are, well, poopy. Soccer is harder- I mean, have you SEEN how big the field is? And you just keep running and running and running. I will, however, admit that some of these players could go for a style makeover, especially Mr. Ronaldhino-I've-just-misspelled-your name but that does NOT make it ok to have permed-style long hair in a ponytail AND wear a headband. Actually, neither of those is ok, and together it's just worse. Going back to the poopy nature of other sports, there's a player on the Brazilian team whose name is, seriously, Kaka. Those jokes did not get old. Because Kaka? Will never be not funny.

Well, you know, it's the one about...

2006-06-25T00:35:00.000+02:00

For quite a long time now, I've gotten the books Persuasion and Possession mixed up. They are most definitely not the same book, but for some reason there has been a mental block on my mind stopping my capacity to tell which is which. Clearly this is dumb. So WHY did I think it would be a good idea to read them both AT THE SAME TIME? Am I trying to kill my own mental health? Actually, why did I think it would be a good idea to be reading about 6 books at the same time? But aren't I always doing that?
ps- you are all going to HATE me now, but I have to admit that I've seen both of the movies made from these books. It's not like I had an evil plan to see the movie and never read the book, it just happened that way by accident. I was even supposed to read Possession for class last year, but we ran out of time (remember that Word and Music class?), and then I saw the movie on the flight to Lyon last August. And Persuasion is Sarah's favorite Jane Austin movie- she practically forced it on me! And by forced I mean I wanted to watch it too. Hmphh.

What are you doing with 4 types of sugar?

2006-06-24T02:04:00.000+02:00

I don't care what the Blogger time-stamp tells you, it's 2 in the morning here. But I just drank some tea, which I'm pretty sure is caffeinated, so I'm good for this post (and perhaps another). In French there's a seperate name for the caffeine in tea, it's called, quite appropriately, teaine. I might have spelled that wrong, but frankly my dictionary is in a completely different room of the apartment, and I'm attached to the computer by my headphones, so me getting up to get it could be disasterous. The fact that I am typing in a different room than my dictionary, and that I know where it is should lead you to this obvious conclusion- I have finished moving and am unpacked. This would be a correct conclusion. I have made the 10-minute jump from Jean Mace to Saxe-Gambetta (so named due to the intersection of Avenue Saxe and Cours Gambetta). Granted, I live on rue Saint Michel, but I'm a hop, skip and a jump away from Saxe-Gambetta itself, and really, I was talking about the neighborhood. The moving was not fun, but it's over, I've unpacked and organized, decorated a little, had people over for dinner and shoved all of my things in the kitchen. Julie has kitchen things, but she doesn't really cook here much. I cook a lot, and have ended up with quite a few kitchen things during this past year (immersion blender, electric mixer, mini-four, coffee maker, etc). This has led to two problems. Number one is my paralyzing fear that Julie will return from Spain, where she's interning for the summer, and FREAK OUT at the shear amount of stuff in the kitchen ("What the fuck Gina- I leave you here for TWO MONTHS and I come back and there are THREE types of flour and two loaf pans? And what do you need those cardomam pods for anyway?") Number two is that even though between the two of us we have a metric shit-ton of kitchen things, there are still things missing. Like knives. My endeavors to purchase knives have all ended in disaster, some more so than others. Yesterday at Carrefour the only difference between me and the sales-dude was that his French was better than mine. I knew more about knives than he did. I've considered just getting some in the states and bringing them back, but I don't know if customs people would buy "But they're so much cheaper at Target!" as an excuse for having knives in my suitcase.

This apartment is wonderful. I do realise that I got shit-lucky in finding it, but I looked HARD for places and was getting desesperee before this popped up. I wish Julie were around this summer, but this way she avoided seeing the massive mess that moving caused. I can't wait to take pictures of the place and the neighborhood, because it is all that I could wish for. Last night I was sitting around and I heard someone practicing the accordian out the window. It is moments like this that I know that I'm where I should be. Even more so now that I have a fan to ward off the insane heat. Thanks, SUMMER.

As of two weeks ago, I turned in my MA essay to the University of Oregon. This was the last requirement for my Masters, and the one thing I held off doing last spring to stay a student this year. Although NO ONE has said anything to me, graduation was last weekend, so to the best of my knowledge, I'm now the official holder of a Masters of Arts in French. I wish someone would tell me officially, but you know, I figure someone would've had to already say "Gina, your essay sounds like a 10-year-old wrote it." So Master I am. To cap that off nicely, this Wednesday I have my jury, or interview, for the Masters program I've applied to here in Lyon, in Metiers des arts et de la culture, basically the equivalent of Arts Management. I'm nervous beyond belief, because I want this SO badly. Tres tres badly. I put a lot into my dossier, and it was such a relief to make it on to this round, but I won't be completely happy until I'm in. Y'all know that I've wanted to go into arts management for a very long time, so this is not just being able to legally stay in Lyon, but rather me going through on something I feel very strongly about. I haven't gone as far as to light EVERY AVAILABLE candle in the cathedral here, but poor Alex has received a few panicked text messages. Let's all hope that I don't wear heels that are too high and fall flat on my face. Because that would be JUST GREAT.

Yesterday I decided that I would bring some music to the English lesson I was teaching. My student and I have very, well, let's say different, tastes in music. And I had forgotten how hard "fill-in-the-missing-word" activities can get (Oh Robert Davis, please don't kill me for forgetting the official name of those activities. I was a good student!), especially when the Beastie Boys talk too fast and Ben Folds swallows the end of his words! STOP IT Ben. What are you thinking? I mean, I do the same thing, but I don't have a recording career and no one would ever potentially use me to teach English comprehension. Besides the ten million times I listened to those two yesterday, the apartment has been grooving out to Sporto Kantes (Maria and I are both part owners of the cd, and Kelsey owns exactly one cent of it. I would have bought the entire thing myself, possibly even twice. Check it out, yo. I am impressed), Morcheeba, and yes, finally, Death Cab for Cutie. I just recently realised that I can't keep comparing them to the Postal Service, because there will never be another Give Up, and I should appreciate them as something different. Also Niki told me that I should really just try, because it wasn't that hard, and then lent me Plans. I predicted that I would spend a good part of my summer lying on the couch listening to it, and this prophecy is on its way to being true. Don't judge me because I started with their lastest album- availability people, availablity!

So many other little things- this week was the fete de la musique, tonight I watched France beat Togo in the first World Cup match of this year that I've managed to catch (no tv, went to Laurie and Vincent's), this weekend is the fete du cinema, I built Ikea furniture using a screwdriver as a hammer and managed to make decent pate brise despite the heat and the butter's desire to melt rather than be room temperature.

Now I'm going to go to bed and stare out the window at the Credit Lyonnais tower, which is strangely reassuring.

desserts that are pink are the best desserts

2006-06-19T11:13:00.000+02:00

Last night I went to Kelsey's dance recital. Ohmygod people. There were tiny little girls who obviously didn't know their dance as they kept looking off the stage to their teacher and all doing different things and waving at their parents. And you guys know I can't resist that, especially since I used to be one of those tiny little girls. Anyway, I went (out to the suburbs, I might add) because Kelse's family couldn't be there so I was surrogate family. She was great in what they call "oriental" dance here and had the awesomest costume that she decorated herself (I know this is true, I watched it happen with my own eyes). Then I got to talk to Alex and was assured that he's ok and loves the states. Then Kelsey and I decided to stay up until 5:30am. You see, her parents and sister came in today, and she had to take a train to Paris at 6am, and was too excited to fall asleep. Hey, I said, I have laundry and cleaning to do- come over and we'll both stay up.
So what's a girl to do when she's staying up till 5:30? Laundry (in the apartment now, I'm happy to say), decorating frames from Ikea, getting glue from said decoration all over myself, watch Pieces of April, unpack some of my things, be convinced by Kelse that making a fort is a bad idea, especially when I had just put away all of those books, and, oh yes- bake!
It would be so romantic to say that I had bought strawberries and rhubarb at the market and knew exactly what they were destined for. But that would also be a lie. And lying is bad. Honestly, I read that the Amateur Gourmet (who I've met, so it's not totally wierd) made strawberry rhubarb pie, and I thought "I think I had that once! I think I may have liked it! But I'm not sure. Hell, it's PINK" When I got home with all my stuff (including the world's best goat cheese), I realised that I had not enough to make most of the recipes (thanks KELSEY aka Miss One-stalk-of-rhubarb-is-definitely-enough). Shit. But at 2 in the morning sometimes you just NEED something that's going to be pink. So crumble it was. With added crystalised ginger and a little bit of rose water. You can't taste the rose water, but I swear it's in there. It's really really good and made the apartment smell great. Plus we had the windows wide open and could hear people talking and it rained and the great rain smell came in (but that's a whole other story called why-i-love-my-new-apartment-so-much).
The important things to notice in the photo are a)I didn't even take off my pearls! b)the apron, which I LOVE and is probably the apron that most represents me plus the pearls plus the fact that I'm baking make me look like a circa-1950's housewife, c)I'm not going to put the crumble in the mini-four you see behind me I'm going to put it in a REAL OVEN THAT'S ATTACHED TO THE STOVE! d)I am cooking in the kitchen and STANDING AT MY FULL HEIGHT. No more bending over to cook suckahs! e)did I mention the oven? Cause I have one. It's right by the washing machine. f)look at that cute coffee cup and saucer on top of the not-in-use oven- Niki gave them (and several more) to me when she left because she couldn't fit them in her suitcase. I LOVE them and they randomly match the espresso cups that Alex's family gave me for easter.
This, mes amis, is happy.

Food-related photos from Mike's visit

2006-06-17T19:34:00.000+02:00

A long time ago, (read- March) younger me, aka my little brother Mike, came to visit. The last time Mike was in France he was still a super-picky eater. (sorry Mike, but you know it's true) This time was different. The kid has developed into an incredible cook and an even better eater. You would not believe the types of things that he can crank out. I strive to be better than him, because I'm older, and that's just the way it should be. Anyway, our spring break adventures included lots of eating and drinking. Things you don't see include- the first raclette meal on my very own raclette maker. adventures with the cocotte minute, Mike drinking espresso, nights at Ninkasi (Alex got really confused while Mike and Niki and I sang the Voyage of the Mimi song) and the sugar cookie France and United States. What you do see is: Mike attempting to choose cookies in the humongous cookie aisle at Carrefour. There is an entire SECTION of butter cookies people. I'm not going to lie- we bought a shit ton of cookies and candy. Next, a spice stand at the Quai Saint Antoine market, one of my favorite markets in town. Finally, Mike in Place Bellecour with MY market basket after the trip that included the spice stand and the roasted chicken stand (it was incredible thankyouverymuch. Bird flu? We ain't afraid of no stinking bird flu). Randomly, Alex lives in the building that you see behind Mike.

2006-06-15T00:51:00.000+02:00

As of midnight here in Lyon, it's officially Alex's birthday. When I asked if I could call him today (timing is tricky now), he said not to worry about it and we'd celebrate when he got back. Wait a second buster, we ALREADY celebrated your birthday! Remember? We went to a concert and I even made a CAKE (thanks Cooking for Mr. Latte) and got you a present! When you get back in September we're celebrating MY birthday!

All that aside, it hardly seems real that we met almost 10 months ago (for all of you who are checking my math I'm RIGHT because we didn't start dating until two and a half months later) when I had just gotten here. This is proof that you can indeed form lasting relationships with people you meet at the bank. I have been spoiled and taken care of like never before, all by someone who thinks it's just normal to do all of that. He cleaned my ENTIRE kitchen people. I have a million and two stories I want to tell you, but for time and sappiness's sake, I'll stick to one that you may have already heard but that I could tell over and over. Christmas day last year I was with some friends at Niki's eating that famous duck, but feeling that feeling you get the first Christmas you're not with your family. Alex and I had talked the day before (it's important to know that he was with his family in Bourges, which is three and a half hours away) and when I told him that I was by myself in my apartment I think he realised that I really was sorta alone. We talked multiple times on Christmas day itself, through texts until he called and told me that he had left something that he needed that week in my apartment and really needed me to go back and find it. After a little convincing, I walked back to my apartment for what I felt would be a futile search followed by a return to Niki's, but instead found him there waiting for me in the entry-way of the building. I nearly-cried, dropped everything that I was holding and hit him to make sure he was real. Lila, who had come with me, screamed. Like, really screamed, and then ran out of the building for an unknown reason. This is the guy who ditches out on his family on Christmas day to come surprise a girlfriend who's a million miles away from hers. So, mon bebe, bon anniversaire, I love you more than cake.

I did promise this to e...

2006-06-15T00:39:00.000+02:00

Since Maria left on Wednesday, Monday night we decided to finally try Le jardin de Berthe, a mostly-salad restaurant we've been thinking about all year. What we thought would be a funky little place with good food was actually a large stylish place with really good food (and ok, we could have done away with that misconception if any of us had ever, oh, looked inside, in the year we've been walking by it). I can't figure out if people go there to be seen, or if there just happened to be a large proportion of hip people there that night. Further research to follow? Anyway, if any of you come to Lyon, I'll take you here. There are about 50 salads, as well as some other pasta dishes, so the menu takes time. Especially if you're not really reading it and talking to your friends instead. Not like I'd ever do that. Never. But truly, I was impressed with the quality of the ingredients and the portions- god knows that I eat a lot, and this salad was big even for me. In true French fashion, I had the salade Sarladaise (named for a town that I visited on the spring trip to Dordogne), which features gesiers de canard, magret de canard (two different types of duck meat), corn, rice and raisins. It sounds better in French.

This post also marks the departure of Maria, which means that it's down to me and Kelsey (and my non-american friends) here in Lyon. We'll always have quat ladies.

On this episode of “My boyfriend’s in fucking Spokane and I’m still here in Lyon!”…

2006-06-05T11:43:00.000+02:00

A serious person who blogs would probably start this entry with something like ‘The times, they are a’changing’ (would you be embarrassed of me if I had just done that seriously? But really, I’m not serious) or, if they were perhaps a bit more indie-rock ‘And we’ll all float on.’ But what about me? Where’s my fucking niche? What am I supposed to use to introduce this to all of you without sounding too sappy, cliché, general, or just plain stupid. So I'd like you all to just hum the Mission: Impossible theme and try not to think about Tom Cruise. I know that's what I do.

I just made that way more difficult than it should have been. But really, how can you describe a time where so many things are changing on every level of life? (note- if Quel est ton probleme? were a musical, then at this point it would burst into song with some upbeat but sentimental melody about goodbyes and hellos. Aren’t you glad we’re not a musical?) I feel like June is always sort of an upheaval time of year, and this year is definitely no exception. Many of my wonderful American Lyon friends, who were students on the program that I’ve been working with all year, have been doing what study-abroad students do at the end of the year and going back to the states. They’re all terribly happy to see their family and friends there, and I’m happy for them too, but it doesn’t make me happy to keep saying goodbye. The Dordogne trip was like one long goodbye. I’m also waiting for word on acceptance to a Masters program here in Lyon (and finding back-up plans to ensure a carte de séjour renewal), finishing the year at two jobs, moving, worrying about all of the above, and yes, as the title implies, dealing with the fact that, due to some sort of cruel joke by fate or something of the like, my beautiful French boyfriend is in Spokane, Washington until mid-September and I am here, still playing the Américaine in Lyon. I have told him that he’s taking over my Pacific Northwest life. He laughed. I was sorta serious.

But franchement, since I’ve been gone for so long you probably all have a lot of questions. I am now going to answer what I believe these questions might be. But since I’m not psychic, there is no guarantee that these actually are the questions that you were thinking about. No yelling if I miss your potential question!

Q- Gina, where the HELL have you been?
A- I’ve been around, yo. Remember how I have two jobs? And I started auditing classes this term. But really, I have been around, if by around you mean around France. Since the middle of April I’ve hit four separate provinces of France- Provence, Bretagne, Berry and Dordogne (and I’ve ambled through, but not stayed in, Aquitaine and the Loire). Life here just sort of took off, and I forgot to write about it. But I’ll recap the best moments. Maybe not the part about the accidentally-upside-down lemon tarte. Because I’m still bitter about that.

Q- So, umm, are you coming back to the states?
A- If you mean to visit, then yes, I’m coming back in July for about 3 weeks. If you mean to live full-time, then no. At least not right now. As I said, I’ve applied for another Masters program here, in the basic equivalent of Arts Management. I’m waiting to find out if I’m accepted (I hear if I’ve made it to the juries, or interviews, in a few weeks, and then find out the final word in the first week of July) and frantically finding back-up plans. I need to renew my carte de séjour, the little piece of paper that lets me be legal here, and the easiest way is to still be a student. Don’t get me wrong, this program is incredible and will train me for exactly what I want to do in life. I want with my entire heart and soul to be accepted. I’m also sitting on a job for next year- basically staying at Chevreul as their assistant again. I love that school so much, and the students, so this is very happy for me. Plus, I did just sign a new lease, so I have to stay now.

Q- Where are you even living right now?
A- I feel like I’m cheating on my current apartment. Two sets of keys, furtive exits from one to the other, bags of stuff being transported… No, I’m not having an apartment affair, I’m just slowly moving from one to another. Yes, I’m leaving my little place on Avenue Berthelot to move a scant 10 minutes away, near Saxe-Gambetta. After a terrifying and stressful search during which I thought I either wouldn’t find a new place or would have to sell my own limbs to pay for it, this place sort of tumbled into my lap. I could say that a little birdie told me about it, but that would be a lie unless by little birdie I meant Alex. I admit, I did get a bit pissy (but by far not my worst) with him about his un-helping nature in the apartment search (not that I ever asked him to help…) and one day just spat out “Don’t you know ANYONE who needs a roommate or who’s leaving their apartment?” I think it knocked something in him, because then he remembered that one of his friends had a roommate who was moving out. He called her from the café where we were sitting and we went right over. And that is how I met Julie and last week signed some stuff and wrote some big checks. There’s a lot in between and before, but I think it’s worth saving, because looking for and finding an apartment in France is quite the loop-de-doo. Julie’s away for the summer in Madrid doing an internship, so I’m alone with the internet and freebox (free calls to land lines in the US!) for a while. She also put MSN messenger and a webcam on my computer, so, guys? Sign up? I’ll tell you more about the new place later, when I realize that I never even told you much about the current place, but for now know that I love it and am going to be very happy there.

Q- Seen any good movies lately?
A- What a great question! Why yes, I have. I saw Marie Antoinette and The DaVinci Code before ANY of you did, because they had earlier release dates here (for the first time in like a millennium). I also saw Mission: Impossible 3, because how could I not? There was an Almodovar retrospective at the Institut Lumière, so I went to see Talk to her (again) and Pepi, Luci, Bom et otras chicas del menton, his first long-metrage which I had wanted to see forever. Crazy crazy crazy. There were times when all Maria and I could do was look at each other and wonder if this was really happening. One of the small theatres is also doing a Sofia Coppola retrospective which consists of a grand total of 2 movies, but I gave in and went to see Lost in Translation, because how could I not?

Q- What about concerts?
A- Shit yo, that’s even better than the movie question. After a few beautiful séances at the Auditorium with the Orchestre National de Lyon, I saw two nights of kick-ass concerts at the Printemps de Bourges, a HUGE music festival. The entire town explodes and people roll in from all over the place. Those of us lucky enough to have a boyfriend who’s from Bourges and whose father gets reduced- price tickets went to the two big nights of concerts (chosen quite randomly when Alex called and made me pick on the spot, and I pulled out the only concerts I could remember from the ONE time I looked at the program). We saw, amongst others, Katherine, The Artic Monkeys, Dionysus, Ken Boothe, Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings (oh wow, old school soul/funk band that threw me into Blues Brothers mode) and Louise Attaque. It was my second time with the Louises, having seen them when I was all of 16 and studying in Saint Brieuc. The whole crowd jumped and sang along and was generally very excited. A few weeks later we went to see Skye, who’s best known as the former singer of Morcheeba. It was Alex’s birthday present, but he chose the concert without really knowing much about it. I looked it up and couldn’t believe that he had randomly picked a trip-hop concert without realizing that it was my favorite kind of music. Needless to say, it was an incredible evening. Her first solo album is beautiful (but expensive!) and that enough was alone, but then she started singing the old Morcheeba catalogue. This was something I never thought I’d see and I spent most of the night not believing that I was there. It was, well, perfect.

Q- And the eating? What about the eating?
A- Oh god, the eating. Where to even start. I’m going to start a weekly feature mostly destined for e where I’ll talk about eating or cooking. But for now let me say that over Easter weekend I had champagne, the good stuff, four times.

Q- What about this boyfriend? And why the heck is he in Spokane?
A- That, my friends, is a good question. I can’t confine my Alex to one answer, so once again I ask you to please wait so that I can give him the explanation he deserves after these 6 months. But before I go, because I’ve been waiting so long to say this, and because I never thought I’d say it- my boyfriend is a black belt in judo, niener niener niener!

2006-06-02T13:21:00.000+02:00

Dear general French population of Lyon-
Today I shunned my belief that I must try to be all French, all the time and wore flip flops out of the house and all the way to work. That's right- flip flops! It's not like you don't wear them too, but mine were my treasured Reefs, so happy to be seeing almost-sun again. You might have seen me riding the tram and metro in these babies, happy as can be. Except for the fact that despite the sun, it was actually quite cold out. But you know, win some, lose some and all that good stuff.
Love, Gina
PS- I also fed some of your children chocolate-chip cookies for breakfast! Take that boulangerie!

2006-05-31T14:11:00.000+02:00

Scenes from Spring Break 2006 in Bretagne

The macaroon shop in Quimper (and NO, I did not buy out the stock)

Our train from Rennes to Saint Brieuc- notice the name in French and in Breton.

Do you really think they would care that much if I walked on the grass?

2006-05-31T14:06:00.000+02:00

Scenes from Bretagne and what we ate there (for e)

Maria and her flaming crepe in Nantes

Make what you will of Niki's reaction to her crepe the same night. That's a breton flag in the middle.

Guiness in Nantes.

2006-05-31T13:36:00.000+02:00

More scenes from Bretagne and what we ate there (still for e)

Galette in St. Brieuc (lardons, mushrooms in a cream sauce, potatoes, egg and endives) with the omni-present cidre

Galette in Rennes with spinach, tomato, egg and hidden cheese

Cappuccino and homemade muffin in Quimper

2006-05-31T13:23:00.000+02:00

Even more scenes from Spring Break in Bretagne

Bicycle/ad for creperie in Rennes where we ate on night one

Mandee, Maria and Niki, the best traveling companions a girl could have, in the hip cafe/bar in Rennes (you know, the place with the smoothies?)

Medieval rock and roll? Count me in! Or count me confused

Disco Maria and Niki with some of the only iced coffee in France. But what's up with those "Festivals in danger" posters?

2006-05-31T13:17:00.000+02:00

Scenes from Easter in Provence

Vineyard near Baumes-de-Venise

Going down the hill from the castle in Vaison-la-Romaine

Across the street from Alex's aunt and uncle's house, where we stayed.

2006-05-31T13:12:00.000+02:00

the view from our gite in Dordogne. The castle that you see is where they filmed parts of Ever After. And yes, there was a pool.

2006-05-30T15:59:00.000+02:00

I came. I saw. I conquered.

The end of May 2006 marks the Centre Oregon Dordogne trip and the relaunch of Quel est ton probleme. This will hopefully be the most sustained, as full-time internet is coming my way in 2 weeks. For those who are interested, I will be state-side from July 14th to August 7th. And yes, I am coming back to Lyon after that. This is it, yo.

Valentine's Day, mode d'emploi

2006-02-15T16:14:00.000+01:00

You all know that I've hated Valentine's Day for quite some years now. Anyone else remember International Matt and Gina are Cool Day? Yeah, I thought so. Of course it was official- we had shirts and everything. God, I miss those shirts, especially the ghetto puffy painted ones. Anyways, store windows here are still filled with gooey red and pink things and I wanted to throw rocks at them, but I resisted. The commercial aspect of the day ultimately bothers me, as it always has. But still, major progress was made in the non-hating of the day. I've created a handy bulleted list for everyone to chart interesting things that happened.
*The entire day is made better if both you and boyfriend are sick, especially if he has told you that you'll be walking up the hill to Fourviere. (How much did I not want to leave my house? If it was socially acceptable I would have worn my pyjamas).
*I can make it up to Fourviere even when sick and tired, with only minor obnoxious interjections. (me- "We're taking the long way, aren't we? Why did we just pass les minimes?" )
*Alex has an insane ability to a) surprise me (example one- tell me we're going to someone's party and then take me out to dinner instead and not believe that I fell for it. ultimate example two- come back to Lyon on Christmas day to see me and trick me into going home so that he could surprise me) and b) remember things I've mentioned once, a long time ago (i.e. that I loved Indian food but never ate it in France).
*Glitter is still great for making cards.
ps- the view from Fourviere is, indeed, lovely at night.

Last night Alex also assured me that his parents will not kill me in my sleep, which has been a big fear of mine for the 3 weeks I've had to freak out about the upcoming visit. And by upcoming I mean we leave Friday. For someone who's never had to deal with meeting a significant other's family, a week seems like a long, scary time. In the middle of France! Awww shit. Who knows how internet will be, so you probably won't hear from me for a while. If it's two weeks, assume that my worst fears were realized.

ps- Did I ever even mention that I've been with this guy for almost 3 months? Whoops. I love you all anyway.

Bisous from the Centre Oregon

2006-02-15T10:32:00.000+01:00

Did you know that in France Valentine's Day is only for lovers, and that they've never heard of sending sparkly, glittery, overly-bright cut-along-the-edges cards to friends or classmates? Why France, why? During the aforementioned "craft apres-midi" I mentioned that I had thought about making cards for the entire Centre Oregon, but then realized that I didn't have that much patience. An hour later Mandee showed up and said "Why don't we make cards for the entire Centre?" And thus the Valentine bisous were born. And seriously, getting to work on Monday morning and telling Laurie that I would be spending the morning doing a kindergarten-esque craft that would count as work time was AWESOME. Plus, we got to use the glitter gell (applied with paint brushes). The idea for the cards came from Katie C., who once handed me a handful of Hershey's Kisses and said "Bisous!" (bisou means kiss in French). I probably responded with "It's funny cause it's true!" and giggled a lot. But still, how clever was that? Anyway, after a lot of cutting we finally got to the point of the activity- playing with glitter. And let me tell you, it was one of the highlights of my week, if not year (sort of, I'll tell you about better highlights later). Besides the fact that my desk is now covered in glitter and that the two of us had a fair dusting on ourselves... Wait, besides what? I'm not going to lie- it was awesome. It made me want to play with glitter everyday. Maybe twice a day. It made me miss Delta Psi door decs and the chapter room, and kindergarten. In that order? After decided against giving some to French people associated with our program who might not understand the tradition and who might not appreciate a glitter and marker covered wonder (people at the bank, mailroom friends, important people at Lyon 2, etc etc), we did at least get some to the good people at the Centre Pennsylvanie and the Centre Californie (and, of course, all of my kiddos at the Centre). Bisous!

ps- In the top picture you can see part of my desk, with Mandee waiting for the glitter to dry and observing Katie and a mostly-hidden Susan, clearly Facebook-stalking someone. Sadly, this is a daily occurence in the Centre. That and friending my little brother. I will NEVER be on Facebook. Never!

2006-02-10T16:03:00.000+01:00

Tomorrow afternoon has become a designated "apres midi de craft" chez moi. I'm thinking making cards, I'm thinking glitter, I'm thinking doilies, I'm thinking me and Maria making a quiche. Oh, and glue. Liquid glue for the glitter. This has all the makings of some sort of Delta Psi activity, except for the quiche and the being in France part.

e, dahling, the capelet thing? Was a joke. And really, capelets should be a part of everyone's wardrobe. They're simply little capes, often knitted or made out of wool. I swear I don't look like some sort of cracked-out superhero when I wear it. Well, at least a really fashionable cracked-out superhero.

Everyone, send me your addresses. Surprises may be coming in the mail. But remember that I'm far away, so they'll take a while. Plus it's me, and I'm totally late with everything. Don't you know that by now?

Because of some iPod trauma, Babak (one of the students) had to put a large portion of his music collection on my computer for a while. Of course I took some. But this is that good part of taking other people's things, because it's memory music. Last night the Jack Johnson so strongly convinced me that I was back on 2nd Johnson senior semester that I started to cry missing everyone so much. But I like Jack too much to turn it off, so I tempered it down with some high-school-senior-year-esque Beastie Boys, Intergallactic, to be precise. That made it better, but still, e? Save me a cup of coffee cause I'll come back sometime.

Best. Chandelier. Ever.

2006-02-10T15:40:00.000+01:00

One fateful day last week I was sitting in the Centre Oregon when one of the kiddos declared "It's crepe eating day!" I was pretty sure that every day could be crepe eating day, but Jean swore up and down that it had been announced on the news that morning (seeing as how I have no tv, I could not confirm or deny this). Turns out that it was Chandeleur, which is in fact traditionally celebrated by eating crepes (all inquiries into what this holiday actually celebrates have turned up empty, and really, I'm too lazy to google it). If this didn't call for a crepe party chez moi, I don't know what would. We shopped, we whisked, we creped it up for hours. I managed to flip a few that neither a- hit the ceiling nor b- fell on the floor. Maria and I also worked our way through 3 bottles of cidre and started eating Nutella out of the jar with spoons. What else is Nutella for, mes amis? After so many crepes and so many hours, the end was a bit loopy, with me insisting on calling it chandelier (like what you hang from a ceiling), Maria wearing MY frilly pink and green apron, and Mandy asking Alex if his twin sister was his identical twin. Sure.

2006-02-08T15:15:00.000+01:00

Because of my sporadic presence lately (umm, monthly?), I have been left with a mountain of things to talk about. This type of problem has many solutions, but really, what's a girl to do in this situation but start with the most important? So yes, what you've heard is true (e I KNOW you're the one who spilled it)- I have finally been able to integrate my new capelet into my wardrobe. It was a tough journey, and I'm not afraid to tell you that there were tears shed. But I've made it through, and sit here in the Centre Oregon with this lovely black knitted wonder over my shoulders (actually, shoulder, as it appears to have slipped over. Just a sec). This segues nicely into me telling you that I've recently begun stepping out in things that would just not be ok in the States, but are fine in France. The parade of crazy tights has begun, and do you know what? It's fine and dandy here. People wear things like this! I wish I had photos so that I could prove this, but alas, there are none. Tant pis pour vous. And today? I am wearing my jeans in my boots. Because people do. I feel slightly silly, so only time will tell if this happens again.

Also, my hair is growing out and I'm faced with the question- same coiffeur or new one? And what do I do about this color? For reasons I'll deal with later, starting next Friday I can't have crazy hair, and I have a perpetual fear that if I go to the coiffeur before then I'll leave with something even more bright than this time. I need to appear at least mostly normal for about a week, mes amis. What is a girl to do?

The Centre Oregon is currently a breeding ground for student problems, as 2nd semesters start at universities all over Lyon. I'd like to think that my advice is at least somewhat helpful. Chevreul continues to rock my world, including students now running around saying "No shit Sherlock" after my "how to talk like an American aka how to talk like Gina" lesson. Ha.

Food-wise, cooking continues to be like crack for me. I just can't stop. Can't stop. There's food everywhere. I even made a fucking roast on Sunday night. A roast. What has gotten into me? But sadly, there was a chocolate chip cookie disaster as my mini-four DESTROYED an entire batch. Way to go mini-four francais. But it was sort of satisfying to smash apart a chocolate bar with a knife handle.

I'll leave you with a snippet of a conversation from Monday night at the Palais de Sourires (The Smile Palace! what a name for a Chinese restaurant)-
Mandy- I mean, if you like prison. Wasn't Saint Valentine in a prison cell with a telescope?
Maria- That was Galileo.

2006-02-06T14:53:00.000+01:00

I think I've fixed the comments. But I had to disable word verification. We'll see how this goes. But please, try and comment again!

2006-02-01T16:32:00.000+01:00

A cookie to the person who can fix my comments section. Or two cookies. Or a whole damn cake. That's how much I want my comments back. WHY ARE YOU BROKEN COMMENTS???? Don't you want my friends to leave love notes?

A blurry picture of my phone...

2006-01-25T16:21:00.000+01:00

117_1773
Originally uploaded by Gina Louise.

Can mean only one thing- I went to another country and then spent a long time trying to take a picture of my phone, which said something different, to prove it. If you look carefully, you can see "Vodafone ES," which indicates that I was, in fact, in Spain. Dad had to go to Madrid, so I went down to join him for 5 days of catching up, seeing old friends, getting to know Madrid again, and eating. Want to take a photo tour? That's actually a futile question because I'm doing it whether you want to see it or not. HA.

I choose... that one

2006-01-25T16:18:00.000+01:00

117_1710
Originally uploaded by Gina Louise.

Art gallery with retrospective on Madrid architecture from a certain period. If I could remember the style of architecture or the period, or had the brochure Dad gave me, I would tell you. But I can't and I'm sorry.

me!

2006-01-25T16:15:00.000+01:00

117_1740
Originally uploaded by Gina Louise.

With redness enhanced by the red glow in the cafe. It was so cool that I wanted to move in. However, I don't think that would be socially acceptable.

Pony-on-the-Finger loves Segovia!

2006-01-25T16:14:00.003+01:00

117_1729
Originally uploaded by Gina Louise.

He enjoyed the castle ever-so-much, and claims to have seen a similar one at EuroDisney 3 years ago...

Reina Sophia

2006-01-25T16:14:00.002+01:00

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Originally uploaded by Gina Louise.

From the outdoor elevators at the awesome modern art museum.

I love Segovia too!

2006-01-25T16:14:00.001+01:00

117_1726
Originally uploaded by Gina Louise.

Umbrella provided by Becky.

Dad!

2006-01-25T16:14:00.000+01:00

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Originally uploaded by Gina Louise.

In the cafe of the new addition to the Reina Sophia. Great place, but here's my advice- make it easier to find the way in.

Cathedral de Segovia

2006-01-25T16:11:00.000+01:00

117_1721
Originally uploaded by Gina Louise.

which had been freshly cleaned. It looked too white to be medieval.

In Segovia...

2006-01-25T16:10:00.000+01:00

117_1720
Originally uploaded by Gina Louise.

... the cathedral is only 1% cultural! Even though it was explained to me many times that it just means that 1% of cultural funds were used for it, I'm going to stick to my theory that only one percent of this mass is cultural. But which percent is it?

So that's how you cut a jamon

2006-01-25T16:08:00.000+01:00

117_1716
Originally uploaded by Gina Louise.

Becky and Dad demonstrate technique, while I silently hope that no fingers get removed in the process.

Lucas and Liam

2006-01-25T16:07:00.000+01:00

101_0123
Originally uploaded by Gina Louise.

With a side of Gina in the background. If it was possible, I would have taken these two back to Lyon with me.

Cafe de Oriente (but I mean, duh, you can see the name in the picture)

2006-01-25T16:06:00.000+01:00

101_0134
Originally uploaded by Gina Louise.

Apparently I met the mayor of Madrid here when I was 2 years old. I don't really remember that happening, but Mom and Dad both tell this story, and usually when they mis-remember something they both mis-remember it in different ways, and their stories are the same on this. Holy run-on sentence Batman!

Plaza de Oriente

2006-01-25T16:04:00.001+01:00

117_1756
Originally uploaded by Gina Louise.

I almost just titled this "Plaza de something something" because I had completely forgotten the name. Luckily, it came to me in a flash of brilliance.

Intersection

2006-01-25T16:04:00.000+01:00

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Originally uploaded by Gina Louise.

Madrid street signs kick all other street signs' butts. Take that, all US cities.

L'entrecote

2006-01-25T16:03:00.000+01:00

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Originally uploaded by Gina Louise.

Clearly, the look on Dad's face says "Eureka, I found it!" The unseen look in Gina's eyes says "This is the restaurant Mike was talking about when we had the disagreement about restaurants in Madrid." I was so right.

Dad and the Velazquez thingie

2006-01-25T16:02:00.000+01:00

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Originally uploaded by Gina Louise.

Looking dapper as always.

Me at Domine Cabra

2006-01-25T16:00:00.000+01:00

101_0145
Originally uploaded by Gina Louise.

How well we ate there. Mike and I both have strong memories of this place as young kids, even if we did get it confused with L'entrecote once. And by we I mean Mike. I'll forgive them for the cheese-tastic music.

Don't take this water!

2006-01-25T15:59:00.000+01:00

117_1759
Originally uploaded by Gina Louise.

Funny thing is, there wasn't even any water coming out of this pseudo-fountain. Sigh.

Me at Domine Cabra

2006-01-25T15:57:00.000+01:00

101_0145
Originally uploaded by Gina Louise.

Near Domine Cabra

2006-01-25T15:55:00.000+01:00

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Originally uploaded by Gina Louise.

The streets had famous literary quotes tiled on them. I was careful not to step on them. But their fate would have been different had it been Balzac!

Dessert anyone?

2006-01-25T15:53:00.002+01:00

117_1777
Originally uploaded by Gina Louise.

Puff pastry with fruits rouges and violet ice cream. The plate even looked pretty after I had demolished the food- colors everywhere!

Plaza de Colon

2006-01-25T15:53:00.001+01:00

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Originally uploaded by Gina Louise.

And the biggest Spanish flag EVER. After I accidentally wandered into expensive-shopping area.

2006-01-25T15:53:00.000+01:00

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Originally uploaded by Gina Louise.

We here at Quel est ton probleme sat in the newly-established Zona non fumadores.

Tapas

2006-01-25T15:52:00.000+01:00

117_1775
Originally uploaded by Gina Louise.

Before I left, I told Dad that I wanted to eat tapas until I fell over. Sadly, there was no falling over, but I did eat these.

tapas 2

2006-01-25T15:51:00.000+01:00

117_1774
Originally uploaded by Gina Louise.

Really, if I could eat tapas all day, I would. I don't care how culturally correct or incorrect it would be.

2006-01-25T15:47:00.000+01:00

117_1715, originally uploaded by Gina Louise.

Cheap beers and free fish. In a bar with a tres Irish-sounding name. Bizarre, but it just makes me love Madrid that much more.

Of Ferris Wheels and France

2006-01-11T10:02:00.000+01:00

Well party people, mes amis, it looks like I’ve really screwed up this time in the updating category. If there were an Oscar for worst performance by a blogging friend, I’d probably win (although perhaps beaten by my brother who seems to have FORGOTTEN how to use Blogger). I could give you milles excuses about lack of internet and having two jobs and blah-di-blah, but I’ll just skip that part and say that one of my New Year’s resolutions was to be better about this. And more concise. Wait- wasn’t at least one of those a resolution last year too? Merde. But anyways…

Forever ago I wanted to start a series of word-bytes about random things that happened here, in my traipsing from day to day. I still want to, but it would take forever to do that right now. And frankly, I don’t have forever, as I feel I’ve pretty well proven. I don’t have to write a book about every little thing that I do, but Sunday night as I was standing in Place Bellecour, watching the huge Ferris Wheel do its spiral-y light show and listening to Rilo Kiley (and hence feeling just a little bit like April, which is comforting) I realized that there are some things that I really do want to document, whether for you or just for me. Because, well, life here has been anything but boring.

As I said on New Year’s Eve, I never thought this is how I would finish up last year/start this year. If someone had told me last January that I’d say Bonne Année this year instead of Happy New Year I would have called you nutty and put the crazy hat on you. But ha! I would have been right! I mean, no, you would have been right. So I take back that ha. I was just about to wax sentimental, and even wrote and erased something, then figured out that it sounded stupid. I’ll say this instead- last Friday I was walking around an older part of town and stopped into a boulangerie. When I walked out with my baguette and croissant it was snowing. So there I was, walking along, eating a croissant, with snow in my hair and on my coat and all I could think was- I’m in FRANCE. I’m still here. And mes amis, I may never leave.

2006-01-09T15:49:00.000+01:00

Happy belated holidays and New Year, love me
Joyeux fetes, meilleurs voeux, et tout ca.

Aren't you sad you missed my chocolate cake?

2005-12-16T15:43:00.000+01:00

Ok, look, it's moi. I've been a bad, bad person and have been ignoring my baby for quite some time, like I have too many times in the past. At least this time I can use the "limited internet access" excuse. It's totally true. No really, it is. And you try writing when there are a zillion people in the Centre Oregon running around and sometimes even yelling. Yes, yelling. But life has been whizzing by me for some time, and I've just stopped and realized it's almost Christmas. For anyone who's wondering, yes, I am staying here for Christmas. And no, my family isn't coming. But I am going back to Paris for 3 lovely days with the lovely Kelsey on Monday, and the Casse Noisette (otherwise known as the Nutcracker) next Friday. So happy. But anyway, the task at hand. What the heck has been going on here in Lyon? I feel like the only way I can give any sort of view of living through the past few months is in short little stories- basically in moments. After all, isn't that what sticks with you most? I'll try and do a few today, and then continue as my intenet allows. I won't have continuous access for a while, so my little laptop and I will try and travel together to some internet cafes over holidays (which start in 45 minutes!) So in no particular order (particularly not chronological)-

"Can you legally change your name in France at coiffeures?"- Katie Cosgrove
It turns out that even when you point to a color in a book, sometimes hairdressers will have their own idea of what should happen. I'm more used to the bright color now, even though it is definetely not the darker red-brown I expected. Until the pictures come, picture the color I had before, but BRIGHTER. And by brighter, I mean redder. A lot. But the coiffeur was hilarious and sang Madonna to me. How could you not love that?

oh shit, I'm out of time already and all I wrote about was my fucking hair. Umm, this is not good. I'm going to post some pictures and write more and go to an internet cafe. Go me. I must be really cool.

2005-11-28T16:07:00.000+01:00

First Thanksgiving, attack on Rachelle (who was making the Thanksgiving pies), and Thanksgiving snow at Bocuse.

I have made my very first Thanksgiving meal on my own, and Real.French.People. ate it. So there. I also ate Thanksgiving at Bocuse. So there again.

Harry Potter taught me French and other thoughts

2005-11-14T11:12:00.000+01:00

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.

I finally made it to the Middle Ages! or How I spent my Toussaint vacation

2005-11-14T11:07:00.000+01:00

So, a bit ago I went on a trip. Remember? With my mom? I even showed you some pictures. But I never really told you what went down. Because really, if I wrote a huge, long, book-length version of the visit, would any of you even read it? I totally wouldn’t. So I thought you might like some highlights more. I promise to tell mostly the truth, and only include a few made-up events. Or none. You know, whichever.

*It only took two French degrees, but yes, mes amis, I have finally done it. I have visited Notre Dame de Paris. Twice, even. It’s so much more beautiful than I ever could have imagined, even after having read so much about it. It was also great to actually know a lot about the history of the cathedral and be able to share it with Mom, who even if she already knew it, pretended to be learning something from me.

*We ate some of the best food ever. Les Jumeaux, where Mom and I ate three years ago, is still marvelous, and I would gladly eat there every single day if it were a possibility. We also discovered the cafeteria at BHV, which pretty much rocks.

*Not only did we go to the Comédie Française, but we say Le Cid, which some of you may remember from a class I took freshman year of college and from my MA exams. What luck to not only be able to get tickets to see the company, but also to be able to see something I was familiar with. Mom was astonished at how different the story was from the original Cid, favorite of Spanish majors everywhere, but still enjoyed the show and seeing the chair Molière died in. No, really. I swear.

*Before said performance, we saw the Koppischs, friends of the family since before I was born. They happen to be living in Paris for a few months, and serendipitously had tickets for the exact same play as we did. I have really strong memories of growing up around them and it was great to catch up and to get to talk to them as an adult and not a little kid playing with their cat.

*I had coffee with Andrew Byrd-not-the-indie-rock-band, formerly of the Centre Oregon, now of an Urban Planning Masters in Paris. I also brought him his mail from Lyon. I should do this postgirl job more if it means that I get to go to Paris.

*Berthillon, where I have sent every single one of my friends and students who’ve studied abroad was CLOSED. I nearly had a nervous breakdown. Then we went to Amorino instead, which I had read about on Chocolate and Zucchini. First off, anyone who makes their gelato scoops into the shape of flowers wins my affection automatically. Second, wow. Once again, a place I would go every day if possible. But I’d have to walk a lot, because eating gelato every day probably wouldn’t be the best for my figure.

*We saw poor gnomes in jail.

*While we were in Lyon, Mom met several of my friends, including the posse. The funny part is that we ran into everyone on the street (except Mandee and Maria, who we ran into on an escalator in the train station). No plans were made, except to see Marc. Mom met her picture-taking match when it took several minutes to get a picture because I couldn’t stop laughing and neither Marc nor I would look at the camera.

*Mom made me go to the doctor. I then paid six euros for the visit, and seven for my antibiotics. The antibiotics price was without my insurance kicking in. I love socialist medicine.

*We had drinks with Dante and Steven, my landlords, who are the best.ever. Mom and Dante decided that my future-make-believe-wedding will take place at Debeaux, Dante’s brother’s patisserie. Too bad I don’t even have a boyfriend. Mom also met Lucie (known in these parts as Lulu), their cat, who sometimes wanders into my apartment through the skylight. It was determined that I could have a pet if Sylvain said it was ok (and he did).

*Mom successfully rented a car and used it to pick me up from work at Chevreul. Those one-way streets were killer, though. We then took said car (not a Mercedes this time) to Provence.

*In Vaison-le-Romain we stayed in an old belfray. From the MIDDLE AGES. I felt like we had gone back to the Middle Ages, actually, and was quite happy about it. If I had been more lucid I might have even recited some troubadour poetry. Unfortunately, I was concentrating on being able to breathe and swallow.

*More great food, and a restaurant that lets you take your bottle of wine with you if you don’t finish it. I almost had a meal where every course included ginger, but eventually changed my mind. But seriously, crème brûlée with fresh ginger? Should be eaten by everyone.

*I had decided to be “smart” and pack light, meaning that I brought one pair of jeans and no jacket. Of course it was cold and rainy. Luckily I was cool enough for TWO cardigans, one on top of the other.

*Small winding roads took us to visit my high school French teacher. No joke. How cool is it to see your old French teacher who has moved to France? She’s actually a friend of my mom’s too. Her and her husband have bought the most beautiful house in a hamlet a bit away from Buis-les-Baronnies. And I’m invited to visit whenever I want.

*After spending years looking in shops in the States that sell Provençal products it seemed almost unreal to see the real things. I had also just read A Year in Provence by Peter Mayle, which gave me a new take on things. I also thought that every wind that blew by was the mistral, but you know. It’s not like I’m ever prone to exaggeration.

Oh fuck, that was still long. If you’ve made it this far, you win some sort of prize. Ummm, when you come to visit I’ll buy you some wine? How does that sound?

les riots?

2005-11-09T17:06:00.000+01:00

Just so you all know, in case you've been watching the news, I'm ok here. Nothing big has gone down in Lyon proper, but there have been some instances in the suburbs- burnt out cars and the like. Not as bad as around Paris, but still something. Last night someone threw something at a metro and set a bus on fire (way out near the ends, though, nowhere near where I'd be), so they've just cut our public transportation at night. It now stops at 6pm, at least for a while. All of us here are wondering when this is going to end, or how. But really, I'm ok.

2005-11-09T17:01:00.000+01:00

Cafe at Cojean, near the Grands Magasins. Yum.

2005-11-09T17:00:00.001+01:00

We accidentally took these stairs instead of the scary elevator. And they went on forever. Mom got back at me by making us walk down the butte of Montmartre.

2005-11-09T17:00:00.000+01:00

Scariest Elevator in the World Part 2

2005-11-09T16:59:00.002+01:00

Scariest Elevator in the World Part 1

2005-11-09T16:59:00.001+01:00

Metro Abesses.

2005-11-09T16:59:00.000+01:00

Foie gras? Why thank you, I think I will.

2005-11-09T16:58:00.001+01:00

Inside Notre Dame, once i figured out how to turn le flash off my camera.

2005-11-09T16:58:00.000+01:00

The one, the only- Space Needle. Wait, I mean Notre Dame. Notre Dame!

2005-11-09T16:56:00.000+01:00

Mom again, at Amorino, the best glace ever. Except for Berthillon, which is 2 blocks away and was CLOSED. CLOSED. But at Amorino, they take the gelato and make it into a flower. And there are whole hazelnuts in it. And I could eat a million.

2005-11-09T16:55:00.000+01:00

Help! In case of drowning or accident call...

2005-11-09T16:54:00.001+01:00

My lovely mommy, at the BHV cafeteria. Look at how appropriately dressed she was for Halloween!

2005-11-09T16:54:00.000+01:00

Montaigne. He and I are working on our reconcilliation, after his essays nearly knocked me over.

2005-11-09T16:36:00.000+01:00

Betcha thought I was dead, didn’t you? Didn’t you? Well I’m not. Quel est ton problème? and I just went on vacation, that’s all. Serves you right for jumping to conclusions. Wait, didn’t I tell you all that I was going away? No really, did I? I should check past entries and not just ask everyone, shouldn’t I? Well I have the right to be out of it. I was sick, after all. No, really. Très très malade. My mom even made me go to the doctor. I’m just finishing up the antibiotics. I haven’t been on antibiotics since I was, like, 10. Or maybe 12. But I digress…

Anyway, as I think I may have mentioned, my lovely mother recently flew on her luxury jet to Lyon, and me and my limousine picked her up in style at the airport. And by that I mean she flew over here on American, and then I made her take the airport shuttle and then made the 10-minute walk to Gare de Perrache to meet her. Same difference. I even let her sleep for a little before we tore off on a whirlwind tour of Lyon. Well, sort of. The next day we jet-setters took off on the TGV for Paris.

I would write more, but it's the end of the day, and I'm not feeling particularly clever. I'll post some pictures, how about that?

Most likely to what?

2005-10-26T10:40:00.000+02:00

Inspired in some bizarre way by more chocolate (I know, I know) and my new “le chill” playlist, I have decided to make a list of personal goals and ambitions. How one led to the other, I don’t really know. Like me, it’s in no particular order, and I may decide to include some goals that I’ve managed to accomplish. And, mes amis, lest you think I’ve gotten all serious, read the list first. It is, after all, me.

*Teach all French drivers about the pedestrian right-of-way.
*Own a small dog that I can prance around town with.
*Marry into royalty.
*Become Olympic trampoline star.
*Become ballroom dancing champion.
*Properly make an omelet, and not just turn it into scrambled eggs.
*Host my own medieval cooking show, on PBS, preferably between “Inside America’s Test Kitchen” and “Breaking Bread with Father Dominic.” (This goal brought to you by my dad)
*Kiss someone at night on a lit-up bridge.
*Move to France. (Partially there- I’m here, but will I be able to stay?)
*Become member of Belle and Sebastian.
*Own the Criterion Collection version of Rushmore.
*Make friends with Johnny Depp.
*Start my own weekend music school, and finance it entirely through grants and underwriting, making it free for students.
*Work for the Lyric Opera of Chicago.
*Work for the Joffrey Ballet of Chicago.
*Eat at a 5-star restaurant.
*Make my parents proud.
*Live in the same city as my best friend for longer than a month.
*Knit a sweater that I would actually wear.
*Have my old chair, in the seminar room on the 3rd floor of West Hall at Ripon, dipped in gold.
*Learn to properly pronounce août and yaoûrt.
*See Saint Etienne in concert.
*Visit as many countries as possible.
*Add extra letters to the end of my name. (If only I had gotten another BA, it would be AB BA MA. Abbama! How cool would that be?)
*Be so loved by someone that they will get off a train/plane/other moving vehicle requiring ticket to chase after me.
*Be an aunt.
*Have at least yearly reunions with various groups of friends.
*Learn Latin.
*Find vintage clothing that fits me.
*Learn to play cello and harpsichord.
*Fly first class.
*Look French. (It works sometimes when I hide behind a scarf, but I’m still obviously. not. French.)
*Convince all of my friends to switch from Livejournal to Blogger.
*Then get my own Typepad blog.
*Learn another song on the pennywhistle.

2005-10-26T10:39:00.000+02:00

I’m sitting here eating Swiss chocolate. That I bought in Switzerland. Who hates me? Oh, but my iTunes just switched into a really old, not so great song, so maybe not so much. But really, would someone tell me to stop reading Cooking for Mr. Latte again- this would be the fourth or fifth time, and I bought it in August. The fact that I finally finished the 1400 page behemoth that is A Suitable Boy is not reason enough. I should be reading La vie- mode d’emploi ou Le deuxième manifeste du surréalisme. Sigh.

Remember a long time ago when, upon finding out that I was a French major, people would immediately ask me if I was going to be a French teacher? And remember how I always poo-pooed them and said “Of course not! I’ll never teach French! Never!” I began eating my words two years ago, and I still am. Teaching at Chevreul makes my heart happy. God, that sounds cheesey. But really, when you’re working with a class of 1ère and you ask them to come up with an outline for a detective novel, then you find out one group has made you the detective, and even given you an assistant, how can you not be happy? This assistant is apparently the PE teacher at Chevreul, and though I don’t really know who he is, I have seen a cute guy walking around with a whistle around his neck. And I really need to thank April here for turning me on to Harry Potter 6 years ago, because now I’m working with 13-year-old French kids on it. Teaching them to say “Hufflepuff” was hilarious. But I’m still smitten with the 6e, the youngest. If I do end up teaching, either French or English (here!), I want my students to be just like these 10-year-olds- great little students who are very proud when they say hello to me in the corridors or on the street.

Last Saturday was the distribution of the ultimate-guide-to-Lyon, Le petit paumé (literally, the little lost guy). It comes out once a year and details everything lyonnais, from shopping to movies to museums to bars to a huge section on restaurants. When I say once a year, I mean once a year. It’s distributed one day only in two locations. I texted Marc that I was going to demand my copy and he responded with a goodbye, as he was pretty sure that I was going to die in the mass hysteria that is the distribution at Bellecour. Obviously, I made it out alive. With four guides, no less. You’re only supposed to get one, but Rachelle and I went from person to person as a test of how many we could get. After four my bag was getting heavy, so we stopped. Take that one-per-person! I documented what was supposed to have been my last day, so wait on baited breath for a brand-new photo essay, featuring an easily-distracted-by-macaroons Gina, lunch at my favorite café which will now be forever overflowing with people because it’s recommended by the P.P., and finally our trip to Bellecour with most of Lyon.

There are so many things that I always forget to say, but that are probably interesting, maybe? Like the fact that one of the directors of Chevreul, who I teach English to, told me that they could probably help me get a work visa for next year. Or that I’m starting to work on separating myself from constant Centre Oregon-dom, as it’s hard to be around all the students all the time, especially when they call at 10pm on Sunday for grammar help (not ok. Just not ok). Or that I appear to have finally made French friends. Or that some of the students are still gunning for me to get married, while they’re here, so much so that they’re planning a pretend wedding. Or that my mom, yes, my dear dear mommy, is coming on Thursday. And that we’re going to Paris. Because all of that’s true. When I make up answers, it’s really only for students.

2005-10-21T16:52:00.000+02:00

You know what's great? When a cute little 10-year-old French girl in your class says "You're super!" This is why I love teaching at Chevreul so much. Bon week-end tout le monde!

2005-10-19T13:15:00.000+02:00

Well, what can I say. Click to make it bigger.

2005-10-19T13:03:00.000+02:00

What happens when you don't turn off your flash at St. Jean. It reminds me of the part of Combray where Proust talks about the qualities of the light coming through the stained glass windows onto the floor of the church.

2005-10-19T13:02:00.000+02:00

This is what Fourviere looks like up close. Note how much better this picture is than any picture I've ever tried to take of it from far away. Also, it's during the day and sunny, and not late at night.

2005-10-19T13:01:00.001+02:00

Lyon from Fourviere.

2005-10-19T13:01:00.000+02:00

Lyon from Fourviere

2005-10-19T13:00:00.002+02:00

Lyon from Fourviere

2005-10-19T13:00:00.001+02:00

The side of Fourviere, complete with clouds!

2005-10-19T13:00:00.000+02:00

Best picture of Mandee ever. "What am I supposed to do with all this lettuce?" Well, it was enough to feed THIRTEEN people

2005-10-19T12:59:00.000+02:00

This is what a kilo of pasta looks like while it's cooking. Too bad you can't see the aftermath, which involved 2 kilos of pasta salad in basically every pot I own. No room!

2005-10-19T12:58:00.000+02:00

Sandra and her chocolat chaud, at my new favorite cafe/bar/restaurant.

why would you need to cook 2 kilos of pasta?

2005-10-17T14:54:00.000+02:00

I think the OL (Olympique Lyonnais, our soccer team) just won, because there’s a lot of unnecessary honking going on outside. I used my incredible powers of deduction to realize that there was a game tonight. And by incredible powers I mean I saw a lot of people wearing OL shirts and the metro B to Stade de Gerland (where they play) was packed. Anyway…

Just in case you were wondering, I don’t think French middle-schoolers are quite ready for the Postal Service. Or the Magnetic Fields. They do, however, all seem to like the newest Green Day cd (which led me to say “oh my god- their first album came out when I was YOUR age!”). Other highlights- someone setting me off on Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch and New Kids on the Block- “oh wait, they were around before you were even born. Nevermind.” and the boy who raised his hand during the cinema discussion to say- “Sometimes Americans make movies that they think are funny, but they are not. Like the new Jennifer Lopez movie. The one with the mother-in-law?” I love this kid. If I ever need a 12-year-old movie buddy, it’s totally him.

This weekend I traipsed all over the ville with Sandra and John (who was very nice and didn’t mind Sandra and I gossiping and reminiscing about, gasp, high school). And, mes amis, sit down, I have an announcement. I have been to Fourviere. Given that I finally got a decent picture of it at night, it was eminent that I actually go. The basilica was beautiful, the views of the city as well, and really, well, you get to take a funicular to get there. I’m all about trips that include funiculars. That was a large part of the reason I agreed to go to the Roman amphitheatre today. What? It’s me, people. You could get me almost anyway by promising a funicular ride. Since Sandra and John are doing a presentation on the Rhône-Alps region, specifically the food, we had to eat a lot. I even stuffed down a salade lyonnaise today, for research and all. What, you ask, is a salade à la lyonnaise? Basically a heart-attack masquerading as a salad. Lardons (thick little pieces of bacon), croutons, a poached egg, creamy dressing and token greens. I prefer the café we ate in on Saturday that specializes in tartines and where they serve jelly-beans with your gateau au chocolat.

Have you ever cooked 2 kilos of pasta? Because I have. I had to do it in 2 batches, because my biggest pot could barely hold one kilo. What can I say, I was really hungry. Or, you know, I was cooking for THIRTEEN PEOPLE. At Taza’s surprise birthday dinner on Friday night (merci à la famille Bonnamour for having everyone over!) she said that the next night, her actual birthday, she’d like to have dinner with “everyone.” Then she stopped and looked at me. This is international for “can we do it at your apartment?” How “everyone” turned into 13 people in the little apartment I don’t know. I made pasta salad and green salad, which is usually quite easy, but considering I had never cooked for this many people before, became sort of hard in the baby kitchen. I did get everything at the marché, though, which is always nice. You would not believe the empty bottle collection ready to be taken down to the recycling bins. Well, you would, because have I mentioned that there were THIRTEEN PEOPLE there? And here I was thinking that it would explode the instant the 8th person entered. Actually, I missed a lot because I spent a large part of the evening sitting on the terrasse with the people smoking (not me!) and talking to Caroline, Omar’s roommate (wait- that’s how it got so big- everyone had their friends around!). It was fun on the terrasse. And this weekend John did what we’ve all been talking about doing and slept on the terrasse, in a sleeping bag. He said it was wonderful. Now everyone wants to come and sleep there, and I think I’m going to have to have a waiting list.

2005-10-17T14:28:00.000+02:00

cropped for le blog

2005-10-17T14:12:00.000+02:00

"Maybe it's because deep down I'm the same person as Winnie the Pooh." -Jean

The pistache is also delicious

2005-10-12T10:36:00.000+02:00

Mes amis, do you know what is happening on Thursday? DO YOU KNOW? Well, do you? My friend Sandra (who has sometimes commented here), who I have known for nine years, is coming to visit. She’s studying in Metz for the year with the Georgia Tech Masters in Engineering program, and this visit is hopefully the first of many times we’ll see each other. Worlds will collide, friends from different times and groups will meet, and I will have an ally here who is my age and who I have known since high school. Hear that other friends? You too should come and visit! It would be fuuuu-uun! I’m even going to give them a tour of Lyon including new market features! And that, mes amis, is why you should come to Lyon. And stop having important life events, like weddings, without me! Why are you all getting married? STOP IT!!! At least come here!

I’ve been teaching English at the Ecole Chevreul for a week now and I must say, I love it. I’ve gotten over the fact that it’s a Catholic school (there’s not too much Jesus), especially since they don’t wear uniforms. I’m the English assistant (or the Assistante US, as they call me), so I work with all the English teachers and switch classes every hour. It’s a bit bizarre to not have already learned everyone’s names, but I’m still meeting students. I’ve listened to their skits about trying to get on Pop Idol (funny, since I taught my old class about Star Academy, the French version), been asked infinite questions, talked about New York City (thanks Myrna!), helped with presentations on advertisements, watched Finding Forrester, and today worked with my little favorites- one of the 6e classes (10 and 11 year-olds). It was my first time by myself with them, or at least half of them, and I didn’t just get to review, I got to teach them new things. Clothing! Can you say Prada little French children? No, really, it was great and I want to keep them all. Thursday and Friday I’m working with a class that’s been talking about music and movies. I promised to play some American music, then realized what I had done. What am I going to do? You know how I hate the radio! This is what I see happening- Ok kids, who’s heard of the Magnetic Fields? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Then no one will understand “The Luckiest Boy on the Lower-East Side” and I’ll be sad. Seriously though, what am I going to do? This is the time to introduce a new generation of well-dressed French children to cool indie-rock, though. Postal Service, here we come. And I liked them before everyone else did, so I’m NOT a follower. Next week I’ll start my Harry Potter lessons with another class. How fun is that? I’m also going to work with the director of the middle school part of the Ecole on his English. Add all of that to the wonderful English teachers and you have one heck of a job. Oh, and the excitement of signing a French work contract for the first time. I’m legal!

I’ve also decided that it’s time for me to make some new real-life French friends. I love spending time with the students (even when they call me with weird problems, well, sometimes), but they are mostly younger and it’s really time for me to have my own friends. I’m also beginning to seriously look into staying here for longer than a year, and if I have no friends I won’t be very happy. But even without real-life French friends (except for my lovely Marc, who makes fun of me like we were never separated for a year) I’ve been sortiring quite a bit. Actually, a lot. Everyone who ever told me I needed to get out more would be very proud. I. am. going. out. a. lot. To other people’s apartments, to Vieux Lyon, to Ninkasi (which is very like McMinnamin’s in Oregon and serves burgers and fries and really really good beer. Come to visit and I’ll take you there). I may have been to Ninkasi (at least it was more than one of the locations) three days in a row last week. And may have been out late the night before we left for Geneva and gotten about 4 hours of sleep (at 12:30 this scene happened- Gina: I have to leave now, I’m going to Switzerland in seven hours. Zach: You’re going where? What? Gina: I’m going to Switzerland for the day. That’s why I have to leave right now. Zach: What? Wait, Switzerland? Gina: Yes, I’m going to Switzerland. Zach: Oh, I thought you were talking about Sweden. This was especially funny because I kept checking the map to make sure that we had booked a day trip to Geneva, Switzerland and not, say, Lake Geneva Wisconsin. Because that would be one long-ass day trip). Then I may have been up late on Saturday night and out late on Sunday. Today I slept a lot in between work times and after work.

I know I’ve been très absente in the comments sections of everyone else’s blogs, and I’m très sorry. I only have internet at the Centre Oregon, and now I’m only there three times a week. Sometimes I write at home and then post at work (like I’m doing right now), but sometimes I forget. I’m working on being better, I swear. And on answering emails in a timely fashion. And on updating my links list (which right now is only April because I was testing the template. By the way, do you like le nouveau template? Besides the fact that the user picture has become screwed up and now is more of Jasmine than of me. Hmphh). This also why there has been a higher frequency of long entries as opposed to many shorter ones. We’ll see how this year plays out, and if I can get wireless at l’apart.

Hey, my Breton butter cookies (Galettes Bretonnes to all of you out there who have a Carrefour) have a triskel on them. That’s sweet. I am such a sucker for cookies. And yogurt. If you’ve never seen the yogurt aisle in a French supermarket then you are missing out. And yes, I mean aisle. Or two. I try a new kind almost every time. I’ve just started with the Mamie Nova brand, thanks to a recommendation from Molly at Orangette, and rejoiced this morning in my Miel d’Acacia et Sucre (Acacia honey and sugar) pot, surely to be equaled when I try the rhubarbe rose variety. The pistache is also delicious. If I didn’t walk EVERYWHERE I would weigh about ten zillion pounds because, mes amis, I eat a lot. And now my peach and currant tea is ready. See, this is another reason why people should come to visit. Even if we only lived on cookies and yogurt and tea it would be exciting. Oh, and chocolate. And cheese. And coffee. And maybe some wine? And baguettes from the boulangerie that are only 60 CENTS here. What is everyone waiting for? Oh fuck, I’ve just had tea, and it’s already getting late and I have to open the Centre Oregon tomorrow morning, because if it’s Wednesday, then it must be Gina-alone-at-the-Centre-Oregon day. Goodnight?

Take the Chocolate and Run!

2005-10-12T10:30:00.000+02:00

Mes amis, presenting a brand-spanking new photo essay- Take the Chocolate and Run! or Gina's day in Switzerland. Yes, day in Switzerland. Geneva is 2 hours away (by slow train) and so some friends and I decided to go for a Saturday. It was beautiful, I ate fondue, I bought mass amounts of chocolate and a pink swiss army knife. Hey, what would you expect from me? Check out the pictures here, and the rest on Flickr.

2005-10-12T10:29:00.000+02:00

Petit Dejeuner a Geneve- Jean and Allegra are drinking chocolat chaud, which was served as hot milk into which you mixed swiss chocolate. Yum. This cafe was called La Maison du gateau, literally, the Cake House. How cool. I would like to live in a house of cake!

2005-10-12T10:27:00.001+02:00

Breakfast cafe (larger than in France), Rachelle's hands and my portable

2005-10-12T10:27:00.000+02:00

I don't even know what to say about this, except that it was the first picture I took.

2005-10-12T10:26:00.000+02:00

A street in Old Geneva, proven by the Swiss flad you see hanging from the building. See, I really was in Geneva!