Missing September 28, 2012

A loud clang pulled me to the service of a deep dream, and all at once I was painfully aware of the afternoon sun screaming in my face.  I tried to open my eyes but they refused, the hangover still grasping at my mind.  My whole body felt like lead, and every time I tried to move I could hear a loud crack of my bones desperately trying to get to their rightful positions.  I tried to inhale and unintentionally swallowed saw dust from the real wooden floors, only adding to the pain of my stomach that was full of alcohol.  The sawdust was choking my dry throat, though when I tried to cough I could feel the little amount of pressure needed to rid my body of the booze.

Finally I was able to work my eyes into squinting around to look upon these new surroundings.  This wan’t my house, that I knew.  Around me seemed to be the kitchen lined with various cupboards, what I could tell was a stove, and a screen door that looked out onto the corn fields far behind the house.  In the yard I could see the grand outline of a tree, with a small rope swing dangling from its branches.  It all looked so familiar….

“Rachel!”  I inhaled again, but too abruptly opening the weak gates holding back a stomach now full of alcohol and sawdust.  With all my might I leaped to a standing position, and tripped out the back door onto the lawn as the booze did its best to escape my abused body.  Out on the grass I was left helplessly on all fours, hurling uncontrollably.  When my body felt satisfied and rid of the poison I scooted back in the grass dropping my head in my hands.  I used my shirt sleeve to wipe off some of the vomit from my mouth, my favorite plaid shirt now ruined.  My jeans seemed to be in a presentable state, but I groaned discovering that someone had taken my boots.  Or maybe I had done that?  All I wanted to do was sprint down Rocks point Ave. until I got to the main square of Charlevoix, but my body was worthless.  What happened last night?  Did I see her?  The reel of my mind was fuzzy, and I kept going back in forth through the images.  All I could remember was a giant bottle of whisky, Red pulling me from a fight, and then….Oh God.

Suddenly I remember it.  Somehow I had escaped Red’s grasp in an effort to drag me home, but all I could think of was Rachel.  The poison had gotten to my head, taking over my body.  I had to find her, I had to know and I wasn’t going to wait anymore.  The image was starting again in my head, stumbling up the stairs of the front porch and storming into the house.  I heard protests by other members of her family, but I paid no attention, the Whisky was in control now.  Clambering down the hall, my lead-filled feet caused me to fall knocking over something; a vase?  I was yelling her name yet she was right in front of me standing over the stove in the kitchen.  Even when I was dead drunk I still was astounded by her natural beauty.  Poised, with her colossal eyes the color of Lake Michigan in the summer, fixed on me, full of anger and curiosity.  She didn’t move, even as her father rushed in to wrangle me out of my drunken stupor.

Still I stared her hair still golden like the sun and it fell in gentle curls on her shoulders.  Then the reel stopped and I was still sitting in the grass on the brisk fall day, not knowing if I had only dug myself deeper in the problems I had already created.  My arms were propped up, supporting my elbows, and since my head was still swimming I let it rest on my forearms to block the sun that was slowing falling behind the trees.  Just then a long shadow crept its way across the ground in front of me.  I looked up and there she stood in all her glory; Rachel.

“What the hell do you think you’re still doing here?  Didn’t you embarass me enough last night??”  She was even more intimidating now in work clothes, her sleeves rolled up and her dress was covered by an apron, now dirty from a full day’s work.  A bucket of water dangled carelessly at her side and I was afraid that is contents might end up on me.

“Look..”  My voice came out raspy and low.  “I had too much to drink and-”

“Thats right you had too much to drink!  I think fish drink less than you do.  And then to just barge into my house like that!  Daddy had half a mind to get the shotgun and shoot you there on the spot.”  I couldn’t even look at her now, the missing pieces of the reel were painfully coming to light; I think I preferred not knowing what happened.

“Did I..say anything to you?”  I glanced up to meet her gaze, but she was staring off past me.  She was far away, and here I am just a drunk nuisance taking up space on her daddy’s property.

Finally she answered, “Yes.”

“Oh God…”  I already knew what was coming next.

“All you kept asking was why?  Why?  You were so far gone, at first I couldn’t even understand what you were asking me.  But you just repeated it over and over.”  She still didn’t look at me, just let her eyes gaze over the cornfiels rocking gently in the wind, the dried husks issuing a soft symphony all around us.  God I loved fall.  Coming back to reality she set down the water bucket, letting her eyes fall to the ground.

“Is that it?”  I prayed that it was.

“No…right before you passed out on the kitchen floor you looked me in the eyes, and said ‘I love you.'”  At this she finally looked at me, and our eyes met.  I could see the gentleness again, a hint of love still reserved in her heart for me.  For a split second I saw it, then her eyes glazed over with the familiar shield.

“You better go, I told daddy I’d have you off the property before he and mama got back from their business in town.”

“Rachel we can’t just leave things like this again, you just ended it and I never knew…”  My throat became swollen, but my anger I had left to grow was now overtaking me.  It wasn’t the whiskey anymore, it was me and she had to face it.  “Look I love you and you know that.  And I know at one point you loved me!  It doesn’t have to be complicated if you would just tell me what changed.  Love doesn’t dissapear in a day, or in a few months from what I’ve discovered.  Now why?  Just tell me why and I’ll leave.  Even if I have to wait till your daddy gets home, I’ll risk it.”  Confidence had stirred up and me and I was able to stand tall, even without my boots on, grasping her arms forcing her to confront what she had tried to push away for so long.

She was silent again.  I tried to meet her gaze, but she was worlds away, keeping from me the only hope I had.  I waited, even as I could feel the cool evening wind rustling through the countryside.

“I know where your boots are.”  Is all she said, and she began to walk across the lawn towards the cornfields.

A creaky red barn sat as the divider between the rust-colored fields and the back lawn.  Rachel heaved open the gate leading into the den, it groaned in protest.  We walked inside and I could feel the blush start to rise in my cheeks; and even though Rachels back was to me I knew she remembered all those nights we had snuck out here together after dinner, after her parents had thought I had left for the evening.

“Jason?”  Her brow was creased in either confusion or annoyance.  “Did you hear me?”  She was pointing up to something in the loft, that was covered in a thick layer of hay.  Looking up I saw my boots, sitting on top of the highest rafter in the loft.  “Sorry, daddy was a little more than just angry with you last night.”

All I could do was laugh, “How do I get them?”

She smiled slightly, and just shrugged.

I went over and climbed the ladder to the loft.  My boots sat taunting me, so I tried jumping to reach them. That proved fatal as my stomach growled in protest.  After a few minutes of searching for something to use to reach my boots, my stubbed toe found the ladder Rachel’s father had purposfully hidden.  It only took a minute to retreive my boots and then hide the ladder again, I knew I was playing with fire with Rachels father but I couldn’t resist.  Once back down the ladder where Rachel stood waiting I said, “Rachel you have to tell me.”  She turned around, and again I was caught in admiring the way her hair fell in perfect curls down her back.

“Jason you won’t understand.”

“Like hell I wont!”  I yelled, my anger boiling over again.  Rachel whirled around, her astounding eyes now becoming watery.  “Rachel I’m sorry, please-”

“I’m moving away…”  Her voice was hollow, and suddenly it felt like the whole world was tilting.

“What?…”

“Daddy’s crops have been real bad the last season, and he can’t afford to pay the rent…We’ve had to tighten our belts the last year just to try and keep things going.  Weilders crops have been out selling ours by a mile, and we just can’t afford to stay here anymore.”

Each word she said was like a bullet to me, I tried breathing in but my lungs didn’t seem able to work anymore.  Still she continued, “Daddy has a brother out in Chicago who can take us in till he finds another job.  They need me Jason, now more than ever.  And ever since my sister ran off with that no-nothing bum from San Francisco its up to me to help them through this.”

“Rachel…I could have helped your dad.  Worked for free, lent him money, anything!”

“It wouldn’t have done any good, Daddy’s business has been sinking really quickly.  When they told me it was going under, I knew that meant we’d have to leave.  Thats why I ended things with you, I had hoped my dissapearing from your life would just make things easier and you’d move on.  You’re a wonderful man Jason, I knew you’d be able find someone-”

“Damnit Rachel I don’t want someone else, I want you.  Thats it.”  For the first time the whole afternoon she really looked at me, she was so strong even on the brink of being bankrupt.  It was that strength and passion I always loved, aspects of her personality that seemed to radiate and bound into those around her.

Then all of a sudden she whispered, “I love you.”

 

It was difficult but I worked myself to the bone to get Rachel’s father back on his feet, though Rachels parents still moved to Chicago after her and I were married.  It was a short wedding, but it was the happiest day of my life.  The farm was our project, and though I worked as a ranch hand for another estate, Rachel and I did our best to get the crops going again.  The road was narrow and rocky, but in the end we accomplished what was thought impossible.  The crops were flourishing again, and Rachel’s parents could move back to their hometown of Charlevoix, Michigan.  The world was right again, and it only took ten years.

Words Can Never Hurt Me? September 26, 2012

Today was an interesting day, as far as nannying goes.  Mary had decided to tape a paper to the wall, to show off to her grandparents that are staying for the week.  I told her to take it down since the tape would rip the paint off the wall.  Instead of saying Ok, she started throwing a tantrum and ran up into her room.  I followed her there to talk to her about it, and she refused to listen.  I decided to let her cool down for a couple minutes, and when I came back there was a small note sitting in front of the door that read, “Don’t come in, this is just for (MY NAME)!”

I walked into the room and explained to Mary why it wasn’t nice to just run off like that, and I wasn’t telling her to take the paper down just to be mean.  She refused to listen.  Along with that I told her the not she wrote wasn’t nice, and if she would like it if I wrote a note like that for her if I was upset?  All she said was, “Vas-y.”  (translation: Go ahead).  I was appalled, and genuinely hurt, so I told her to stay in her room till her parents came home.

After returning back downstairs to finish things in the kitchen, and stopped to think about what she had said to me.  It wasn’t necessarily what she said, but how she could look at me with such force, no kidding behind it, and just say it.  Flat out.  In that moment I started to tear up as my family and friends suddenly seemed so far away.  In an instant I was all too aware of the large ocean seperating me from everything that I’m used to.

After a few minutes I went back to finishing setting the table.  I heard something on the steps and was going to tell Mary to go right back to her room.  But instead I found her sitting on the bottom step with the saddest face I’ve ever seen.  She said she was really sorry, and in turn started to cry.  I was just about to tell her no and go back up to her room, when her grandmother came over and comforted her.  Her grandmother, or Mami, told her, “You dont need to cry.  You did something wrong, but now you know what it was, and you can say sorry and move on.”  It was then that I realized I was being just as childish for thinking of not accepting her apology.  I told Mary it was ok and gave her a big hug.  And even though we both feel better, it was still surprising how much I was hurt by what she said.

As a side note their grandmother, Mami, is one of the sweetest people I’ve met.  She is like sunshine, and all I want to do is sit next to her all the time and listen to her talk about her wedding, and her gorgeous wedding dress, or her house in Normandy, or anything!  I wish she could stay for the year, but unfortunately her and Papi are only staying till next Monday.  But she is a lovely person, and I’m so glad to be able to have met her!

Humble Pie September 25, 2012

Within the last 24 hours I’ve shown how sometimes as much as we think we’re progressing, we miss the little things that can actually make a BIG difference!

Yesterday afternoon after my french class I was taking the tram home with another au pair from my school.  We ended up meeting a french lady who dropped in on our conversation to tell us we spoke french very well, and asked us where we were from.  Turning to me she asked, “Vous etes anglaise?”  And without thinking I said, “Oui!”  I was thinking, “Yea I speak english!”  When really the question was asking if I was from England.  As the conversation went on she started to tell us about how her daughter is working in England, and is there to learn french.  At one point in the conversation she asked me what was the cheapest way to get to and from England, from France.  I didn’t understand why she was only asking me, and not both Nino and I, then it all clicked…she though I was british!

All I could say was I didn’t know, and the conversation continued.  She was really friendly, and told us both more than once that we spoke french really well.  Finally it was her stop to get off, and Nino and I said goodbye.  As the tram started up again I turned to Nino and said, “I think she thought I was british.”  I then went on to explain when the lady had asked me if I was anglaise, and how without thinking I said yes.  We both started cracking up, apparently I’m still not that great at french!

And if that wasn’t enough proof how much I still needed practice, this morning when I took the girls to school, I had already dropped Chelsea off at her class, and Mary and I started walking to her class.  On our way we met one of Margaux’s friends and her mom.  The mom and I started talking after the girls left for their class, and while talking to the lady I thought she had said she was from the Ukraine and had only been here a year.  As we approached the parking lot I asked her if she had studied french before coming to France, because she spoke french really well.  She looked at me for a second then said, “No I’m french!  I said that I’m hosting a girl from the Ukraine for a year.”  All I could do was start laughing, and apologizing.  Needless to say I felt like an idiot…again…lol

Paperwork…. September 20, 2012

Today is the day that I will be going to open a french bank account!!  Normally I would not even bother, but the fact that in order for me to receive social security, and insurance, its required that I open some sort of bank account just in case.  I guess my host mom believes I’m capable enough to do this on my own, since in 15 min. I will be leaving for the bank, and hopefully get everything done quickly and easily.  Since I’m paid cash, my host mom told me that I don’t really need to put anything in the account, its just to follow regulations, so she told me to open an account where the minimum amount you can have in it is 1,90 euros.  Its seems a little stupid, though even she said so as well, but I guess thats what you do to get things done, you do it their way.

The same goes for my OFII form.  In order to obtain a long stay visa, you do all the nonesense for paperwork in the states, but after you arrive in France there are a few more steps you have to take.  The first is to send in the OFII application form, with a copy of your passport, and a copy of the stamp showing when you arrived in France, which all gets put in an envelope and sent to the OFII office in your region.  After that they say that the couple other steps you have to do need to be done within the first 3 months of  your arrival in France.  Unfortunately I was stupid when sending in my form.  I had put everything together, sealed the envelope, and sent it off only a couple days after arriving.  It wasn’t until literally later that day I was looking at the original copy of my OFII form and realized, not only had a forgotten to fill in 2 parts, but at the very bottom in miniscule writing it says that you need to sign it!

I was dumbfounded and starting having a panic attack.  France is known for doing everything slower, and I knew that one mess up, even something small, would probably take weeks till someone would be decent enough to just send the form back to me, or even just to notice I had done something wrong.  Therefore I contacted my aunt and uncle who live in Rome and asked their advice since they have lived in various countries throughout Europe, and have had plenty of experience dealing with visas and all that.  They told me to just make another copy, fill out the form, and take it to the office which is thankfully in Nantes, and tell them what happened. (Some regions you have to travel to another city just to get to the OFII office)  The only tricky part is that between taking care of the 2 girls, and going to french classes from 1:30-3:30, my days don’t leave a lot of wiggle room to go do something like this.  I’m going to try and go to the office today but leave it to France for the building to be only open from 9-12:30 and 1:30-4:30.  Its open a full work day technically, but sometimes I cringe at how something as important as an immigration office would only be open at that time.  Anyway I’m going to do my best today to get there after my bank account appointment, but if not I’m going to try first thing tomorrow.  Wish me luck!

You Only Get ONE Shot…literally September 15, 2012

Sure I noticed him, but I guess I wasn’t really looking.  He was tall, lean, and had a lip piercing. Gross.

I can handle most any piercings, but for some reason any piercings surrounding the mouth have always freaked me out.  He was pale, not pasty, and had the same complexion as Adrien Brody.  All I was doing was coming back from the bathroom, when I look over at him at the bar as I pass.

“Attends!”  He says, pointing to two shot glasses on the bar, both overflowing with a light green liquid.  At first I just laugh thinking its a joke, but he picks one up and motions for me to come over.  I walk over dumbfounded, this cute french bartender wants me to take a shot with him…ok!

He looks me in the eye, holds up his glass and says, “Sante!”  He throws back the liquid, and I do the same.  Its strong, but incredibly sweet.  He asks me if I like it and I say yes, and then ask exactly what it was I just inhaled.  Understanding french is still a little hard for me, but from what I could make out he said it was some sort of liquor with orange and lemon in it.  Whatever it was I liked it, and was very much liking him.

Now the next thing I do, I give credit to all the other stupid things I’ve done.  And even though I see whats happening in the moment, for some reason I don’t know how to stop it.  Its like knowing a train wreck is going to happen, you’re watching it in front of, yet suddenly you cant move your arms or legs, your lips are sealed shut and you’re as worthless as a sack of potatoes.

I look this young french man straight in the eye, I smile and say, “Merci!”  With that I walk out of the bar and sit back down with my friends.  I could have stayed and talked with him, I could have asked him where he lived, if he liked bartending, really anything.  But suddenly my mind became frozen, and I found myself scrambling for an emergency exit.  Now there’s not telling if anything could have come of this, or if anything will, but it seems like feeling like an idiot is one of the things I do best nowadays.

Its Not Always Easy, Hardly Ever In Fact

This morning was a big wake up call to the difficulties I so clearly remember having when I was studying abroad.  When you know a language, but still not well enough that you can say most whatever you want to, speaking in general becomes a challenge and doesnt always seem worth it.  Its the same realization that my wise Uncle Brian explained to me, he said: “Its hard learning a new language, because you know you’re intelligent and have interesting things to say, but when you’re still learning the lanugage you feel like a fool because you can’t find the words that you want to say.  So even though you don’t say much, and try to participate in the conversation, you’re blocked by a wall.”  He continued to explain to me about how when he was trying to learn french, after moving to Belgium, he was constantly getting frustrated because in simple conversation he would be at a loss for words since he still didn’t know much of the french vocabulary.  Random things like vase, lamp shade, parking garage, shoe lace, landscape, all seem like simple words because we already know them in english.  But trying to switch those words over to french are very hard, without already knowing them, or being able to look for them in a dictionary.

For example this morning at breakfast the dad of the host family I’m staying with asked me if I was able to sleep late since the girls were noisy this morning.  What I wanted to say was, “No it was ok, I have earplugs so I was able to sleep great!”  But in the moment of trying to translate that into french I coulnd’t think of the word for earplugs, and then was trying to think how to conjugate the verb sleep.  So even though I probably could have come up with the sentence eventually, I was taking too long to find the right thing to say so all I said was, “No it was fine!”  Its things like that, that make learning a language frustrating: being blocked by a wall, not of the lack of intelligence or the unwillingness to participate in the conversation, but simply trying to follow the conversation and being able to respond as quickly as the conversation itself is moving.

Don’t Go, Where I Can’t Follow September 11, 2012

The joyful moon will cover the night in its silver glow,
Again the red sun
will rise over meadows sparkling with snow,
The hand on the clock will move
along and still refuse to slow,
But all I ask is where I can’t follow please
don’t go.

Each day will bring a million beautiful memories of which to
hold,
Of a vibrant life full of love where we’ve learned to be bold,
And
everytime I see you I’m reminded my heart is incadescently sold,
Yet again I
whisper where I can’t follow please don’t go.

There may come a time where
the melody of life must come to an end,
But in me always remember that I’m
yours forever, a lover, a friend,
Through the tragedies of life where we must
all learn to mend,
Stay true to what I plead where I can’t follow please
don’t go.

Swift valiant sunrises greeted us on many waking morn’s,
Our
hearts were tried as each day brought new beginnings and unpredicted
storms,
You taught me how to be, though tragically from me you were
torn,
Though I begged where I can’t follow please don’t go.

High in
the heavens is where you will sing praise and wait,
Until my soul will leave
me and I find myself at the golden gate,
We will rest together again only as
if I were a little late,
Thats when I will tell you, I am ready to follow,

And there’s nowhere we can’t go…

Les Sables d’Olonne September 9, 2012

This weekend I went with my host familyl to a little town on the Atlantic Coast called Les Sables d’Olonne.  It was a beautiful city, full of charm and the best part was it was right on the water.  It reminded me a lot of a french Miami, Florida.  There were plenty of people relaxing on the beech, as well as walking along the boardwalk that stretches all the way around the main bay of the city.  One of my favorite things were all the boats that were in the harbor, and also far out on the open water.

For the weekend we stayed in a hotel that had rooms in apartment style, with two bedrooms and two bathrooms, a kitchen and living room.  The entrance to our hotel was right on the water, and took us less than a minute to get from the hotel to the beach.  Friday night we got there around 7:30, and after leaving our things in the hotel we ate a late dinner and then went to bed.  This was after an hour car ride where I sat in the back seat between Mary and Chelsea.  Towards the end of the trip Mary wanted to play a game where you hold out your hand and sing a song.  Kind of like “Catch a Tiger” where when ever you land on a finger at the end of the song you put that finger down.  Of course while playing this game all my fingers were down except my middle finger, which I quickly told Mary was not allowed.  She in turn decided to do the same with her fingers, leaving only her middle finger up and started waving it around laughing.  She kept saying, “Pourquoi on ne peut pas faire ca?”  When I told her it was bad, she still kept laughing and waving around her middle finger.  Finally her mom saw and told her it was very vulgar to do that, and to not do it again.  That was the end of the counting fingers game.

Saturday started early walking around the city, since its a little hard to sleep in with two kids under the age of 10.  We all went to a huge covered market in the middle of the city and bought fresh bread, fresh fruit, cheese, and a few other things.  It was amazing seeing all the vendors in there, and the scent of real fresh vegetables I couldn’t get enough of.  It was two levels of a huge round building, and was one of my favorite things that we visited there.  We went back to the hotel to relax on the beach awhile, after which we had lunch, and decided to visit the outdoor pool in the hotel.  After awhile everyone wanted to go back to the beach, but earlier Daphne and Evan told me I could walk around and shop by myself if I wanted to, so while they returned to the beach I decided to explore the city a little more.  While I walked around I stumbled upon a little square where I heard music playing, and could see a crowd had gathered.  There in the middle of the square was a french band composed of 4 guys, a singer, guitarist, drummer, and bass player; but they weren’t playing a rock and roll song, they were singing “Gangster Paradise.”  I couldn’t help laughing to myself since, a. That song always reminds me of Weird Al Yankovic singing “Amish Paradise” and b. because they were french they couldn’t pronounce the words quite right, specifically the word ‘death.’  Since the ‘th’ sound is difficult for native french speakers, the word kept coming out ‘deaf.’  So they were walking through the valley of the shadow of deaf.

The beach experience in France was also quite different than what I am used to.  Not that it was nude, like most stereotypes of beaches in France, but that most of the really young girls there were only wearing bathing suit bottoms.  They weren’t wearing any tops!  Not only that but most people just change right there on the beach.  It was definitely not something I was familiar with.  Same with people changing, most just wrapped themselves in a towel or something and changed.  That was it.  It was certainly…different.

As for the rest of the weekend was filled with eating at some amazing restaurants, or sitting down for espresso.  Daphne and Evan paid for everything, which I thought was very generous!  It was great exploring a new city, especially one right on the coast.  Evan and Daphne have defnitely made me feel welcome, and just after a week I’m already feeling very comfortable and more at home.

Jap-n-Go! September 6, 2012

Even though I said I would be posting at least once a week, or once every couple weeks, I felt the need to write today.  Sitting in the kitchen of this new house while drinking an espresso reminds me more and more of why I decided to come to France.

This morning was an early start at 7 am, in order to get ready before I had to get the girls up.  It was like my first part-time nannying job, where as soon as I came in the room to pull back the covers I was greeted with high pitched moans and forceful dives as far down in the bed as they could go.  Neither Mary or Chelsea seemed happy to get up, though once Mary was awake she listened to what I had to say and was very easy about getting ready.  I can’t say the same for Chelsea; besides getting dressed she seemed content to make every little task impossible.  Though it was sweet because Mary got up and came into Chelseas room, where Chelsea had decided to create a tight cacoon around her body using her comforter.  As soon as Mary came in she started playing, what she called, “Un petit jeu” to get Chelsea up.  After a few minutes Mary had coaxed Chelsea out of her bed by lightly tickling her, and playing a little version of Peek-a-Boo.  Besides that though Chelsea was difficult, from slowly eating her breakfast to brushing her teeth, I can see already that she is the one I’m going to have trouble with.  Once she is past things she doesnt like, which I’ve found out are brushing her teeth, and brushing her hair, she seems pretty happy doing whatever it is Mary does.  The two of them are very close, and remind me a lot of how me and my sister acted at that age.

The morning ritual, which simply involves getting dressed, eating breakfast, brushing teeth, and driving to school, was not too difficult and I’m sure will only get easier with time.  Though my greatest challenge right now is the battle I have with the car.  Its “une ancienne voiture” as Daphne told me, and I can tell already by certain things.  The windows roll down, the steering wheel needs to be cranked a few times just to cut a corner, and I have to put my foot on the clutch the whole time I’m reversing or the car will stall.  Thankfully I drove with a little older car before coming to France so its not too bad, but this morning proved very difficult!  I couldn’t even get an inch down the driveway since I kept expecting the car to reverse slowly without having my foot on the clutch.  In turn the car stalled about 6 times before I had to run and get Daphne to help me.  The only thing amusing about stalling the car was when I told the girls I was sorry, they were both settled in the back seat in their car seats, Chelsea sincerely told me that it wasnt my fault, and Mary added that it was ok because they were used to it.  All I could do was laugh at this young girls very subtle honesty.

Today was the day that I went to la centre-ville de Nantes to find the school where I would be taking lessons, and also to familiarize myself with the city.  Its very beautiful, especially with the rivers, though I got a little lost while trying to find a clothing store that wasn’t extremely expensive.  While traversing the city I saw something pretty hilarious a carry-out Japanese restaurant called “Jap-N-Go!”  If you don’t know why I find this funny just look up the first word in the name.

As I was sitting eating lunch on one of the boulevards downtown I looked up and noticed some beautiful apartments surrounding the square.  Most of them had balconies, and all of a sudden on one of them appeared a man, resembling Brad Pitt, walked out onto one of the balconies wearing nothing but a pair of speedo shorts.  I seemed to be the only one who noticed him as he stood out on his balcony watching people pass by.  I smiled to myself thinking only this would happen in France, and within a few moments the man dissapeared into his apartment.

Another thing that is so different is the fashion!  I feel sloppy walking down the street in jeans and a nice shirt, though its easy to feel that way when girls who look like they’re in middle school are stomping around downtown in high heels and carrying rather expensive looking leather bags.

Its also a little tricky not being in a studied abroad group and trying to do everything needed to finish the process for my visa.  It takes several steps after you arrive in order to finish the entire process.  There are several steps to take that need to be done within the first 3 months you have arrived in France.  Its a little complicated, and now I realize how much I took for granted the people in charge of my study abroad group, and how they took care of everything.  But I’m slowly figuring it out, and hopefully in just a few weeks I’ll have this stuff done and can just focus on getting acclimated here! :]

But thats all for today, “C’est tout!”  Bonne journee!

First Impressions September 5, 2012

For the sake of privacy I have given the family false names, here they are as follows:

Dad- Evan

Mom- Daphne

Older daughet- Mary

Younger daughter- Chelsea

I would be lying if I said God made us brave when we enter into experiences that are new or nerve-wrecking (mainly just in my case).  Sometime I feel even more scared, even after I’ve prayed knowing that God is there.  The shock of the whole situation is still hitting me at times, like a pain that hits right to the heart and I find myself short of breath, or on the edge of tears.  I start to ask myself, why did you do this?  Should I have chosen a different family, maybe in a different city?  Can I really make it the year?  Was this really a good idea?  I keep thinking that this should be easy for me, that I did it before when I studied abroad.  But its a completely different situation, which I’m finding out rather quickly.  Its now a job, and not something I am paying to do.  Its also very different not having a studied abroad group to rely on.  Finding things to do will be much different without an organized group of people stuck together, though thankfully for a friend of a friend I was able to obtain a few contacts of people living in Nantes, one in particular which is a leader of a small group for the Campus Crusade chapter here.  I’ve e-mailed him already so I’m hoping I’ll get the chance to go to the group and see what its like.

I know I should cut myself some slack, but I guess after majoring in French I feel like I should be able to say everything, and understand everything I’m told.  But its only the second day, and both Evan and Daphne (the parents of the kids I’m watching) said that I speak french very well, and that I also seem to understand very well.  That was a great compliment especially from native french speakers!  Another thing I’ve noticed, that even though its not my house, I still feel at home.  I have a beautiful room with a skylight, and my own bathroom.  Especially after putting away most of my belongings its really starting to feel like mine.  That is a great difference between studying abroad and working here because there were few times I felt at home while studying abroad.  I lived with a young woman who worked a lot, wasn’t married, and was gone most of the weekends of the semester.  The room I had in the apartment was very small, and though the rest of the apartment was pint-sized it was kept together well.  And even though it may seem like my host mother did not care much about me, she was always pleasant to be around, took care of me well, and cried when I left at the end of the semester.

I will fill you in on how my travels have been going so far:  My first flight from Dayton to Chicago was on-time, and very fast, and I got there exactly at 3:10 pm.  I cannot say the same for my flight from Chicago.  It was originally supposed to leave at 6 pm, and arrive in Paris at 9 am, which was perfect since I had bought a train ticket to go from Paris to Nantes (direct) that left at 12:48, giving me plenty of time to get my things and relax a little bit.  And the train was supposed to arrive in Nantes around 4 pm.  Instead my flight from Chicago ended up being a 1/2 hour late, then an hour late, then 2 hours, then 3 hours.  Apparently there were malfuntions on the plane that they were trying to fix, and instead of just getting a new plane, like they ended up doing 3 hours later, they tried to be heroes and fix the problem.  This then changed so I didn’t leave Chicago till 9:30, I arrived in Paris at 12:45.  Then running to the train station I called Daphne, and she told me the next ticket to Nantes was for a 2:40 train.  By this time it was already after 2 since the bags took awhile, and the train station in Paris is all the way across on the far side of the airport.  So as I was waiting in line that was all the way through the queu and out the door of the ticket station, I missed the 2:40 train, bought a ticket that left at 4:58, and didn’t arrive in Nantes until 8 p.m.  It was definitely not how I wanted to spend my first day in France, but thank God I was still able to make it to Nantes that same day.  On my train to Nantes there was a stereotypical french man rolling his own cigarettes in the seat next to me.  All I could do was laugh and think only in France!

Today was also my first driving lesson with not just Daphne in the car, but also Mary and Chelsea.  It was really intimidating having all of them in the car, and just trying to get out of the driveway I stalled a few times.  Though it wasn’t all my fault considering the car I’m driving is really old and takes like 3 turns of the wheel just to cut it all the way, right or left.  But I did pretty well, its always starting thats the hardest for me, but I felt alright after driving.  Thanks to one of my friends for being so patient in teaching me stick and suffering in the car with me while I stalled, and lurched the car enough to make any normal person sea-sick!

Also today Chelsea and I decided to go for a walk while Mary was at a birthday party, and we ended up going really far out of our way to visit one of Chelseas friends who wasn’t home, and then basically made a huge circle around their entire neighborhood including the school and tennis club.  That would have been fine except it was around 80 degrees, and “Plus chaud!” as Chelsea kept saying.  I tried carrying her on my back a couple times since she seemed pretty tired, but we eventually made it home with sweat dripping down our faces.  That was when I was thanking God for the pool!

Since I’ve been here Daphne has been giving me the low-down on everything I need to know, which is a lot more than I originally anticipated.  Since I arrived here right when school started its made the whole thing a little more crazy, but I know how to drive stick-shift (though its still a little scary), and my french seems to be improving each day!  Mary(7) and Chelsea (5) have already been starting to hug me or hold my hand, and Mary colored a beautiful picture of her, Chelsea and I after I gave her and Chelsea their presents.  The day I was supposed to leave I was running around Target with my mom and dad to get a few last minute things, and the dolls for the girls was one of them.  They are little plastic dolls of Belle and Cinderella, and they each have 4 dresses, 3 purses, and 3 tiaras.  The girls love them, and can’t seem to stop playing with them!  Also when Daphne told me they had a pool I didn’t realize she meant an indoor pool!  Its an in-ground pool thats basically in its own house, which looks like a green house because its all windows but it covers the entire pool.  I swam in it today with the girls, and started thinking I could get used to that!  Also they are part of a tennis club, so I may be taking some tennis lessons while I’m here.

This first week especially I’m just praying that God will give me wisdom in everything that I do.  The girls seem to get along well, and are pretty well behaved though I’ve already had a few problems which is normal for little kids.  But I pray that God gives me wisdom on how to take care of them (which again is a little harder in another language), and that he gives me peace at heart for making this decision.  Its one of those things where I know I obviously can’t turn back now, but I’m still just praying to feel at peace and be able to move forward and do the best that I can at this job.  Here’s to more things to write about in the near future!