Les griefs

As of this past Wednesday, I have officially been here two weeks. Still undecided as to whether it is going by quickly or slowly. It seems fast when I think of time in how many days have gone by, but slow when I think of how many days I have left until I've been here a month (another 2 weeks from today). Then it seems fast again when I think that in 2 weeks, I'll be 1/8 of the way done. That's how I used to look at school and it always made it go by fast, especially when I would finally get so absorbed in my classes that I stopped keeping track of time and just let it happen.

As of right now, I'm hoping that the worst has passed and that it will continue to get better from here. This week has been especially difficult. Jacques stayed home all week, I think to help me get more situated before he takes off for the next 6 weeks. I don't think he's comfortable leaving yet but he is going to have to get going within the next few days to start selling the collection for next winter.

I'm in another rut of "what to do?" My self-consciousness continues to get the best of me while it is clear that Jacques is looking for all or nothing. Twice this week he has asked me if I wanted to go home. Both times I replied with a firm no. Okay, the second time was firm. The first, a bit tentative. But I am determined to stick this out despite the misfortunes of the past week.

Les migraines

It turns out alcohol gives me migraines. That is an absolutely fabulous thing to discover your first week in Europe. Doesn't put a damper on the experience at all. I'm thinking it has something to do with my concussions. But I seriously have not had more than one glass at a time and within an hour my head is pounding, the room is spinning, sounds are distorted, and the tiniest bit of light is like the sun and not even 1000mg of Doliprane will make it go away. I think Jacques actually got the picture after the 3rd migraine on Tuesday (which is when I conceded that alcohol was indeed the trigger). He hasn't offered me a glass of wine since and I haven't had anymore headaches. However that was also the first time he asked if I wanted to go home. The time where I was probably a little too hesitant with my answer. It's not that I wanted to go home. I was just shocked that he asked. And I had a migraine. Everything catches you off guard when you have a migraine.


Les Enfants

I know I've mentioned their terrible behavior since Jacques has gotten home but it doesn't seem to be getting any better. At least the majority of it is not directed at me (with the exception of a few Bart-Simpson-esque gestures). On the other hand, I don't know which I'd rather deal with, the kids behavior or Jacques' frustration. But at dinner tonight, Alexis squirted an orange in Maxime's eye because Max was using the knife to make designs in his orange peel and Alex wanted to cut a piece of bread. Boys will be boys? But I feel like that is an extreme. It's funny though. The second Jacques is out the door, they play perfectly together. My mom sent a book of foam gliders for them to make. I made one with them and the next morning while Jacques was at the gym they made the rest by themselves and played with them until he got back. Then it was back to the video games.

La conduite

So my mercedes benz 4x4 is an automatic. So much for all those stick shift lessons and driving up and over and down and three-point turn and up and over and down that one overpass out by Freeport. But none of those lessons could have prepared me for driving with Jacques anyways. I understand that his life, and his kids' lives are potentially in my hands, but that is no reason for him to be so nervous that he is ready to jump out of the car at a moment's notice. I pride myself on being a cautious driver. Except for that gosh darn curb, I had a perfect score on my first behind the wheel test and in the three years that I have been driving, I have never been in an accident (except for with that wood pole at Celeste's apartment). Yes, the rules for driving here are a little different (right ALWAYS has the right of way, even to oncoming traffic, and you can't turn left across traffic unless there are arrows that say you can turn), the roads are a little narrower, and you feel like you are going faster just because the speedometer is in kilometers per hour, but all in all, it's still driving and I still don't like it but I still manage to do just fine. Not according to Jacques, who, might I add, when it's his turn at the wheel, is the craziest most reckless (aka- French) driver I've ever seen. (The unwritten French rules of the road state that there is no such thing as a lane line or a speed limit and stop signs mean yield --worse than California, I swear.) Of course that's only when he's driving. When I'm driving, the speed limit is too fast, no matter how far away the next turn is I'm going to miss it and even after a four-second stop at a yield sign checking right, then left, then right again, I am not paying attention to oncoming traffic. It makes me so nervous that I do brake a little faster and harder, turn a little sharper, and when I'm coming up on a round-point it's like my entire body is in tachycardia. He needs to understand that yelling at me about black ice the entire ride to school and asking me if I'm sure I have my license does not help anybody. Anyways, I don't think he is planning on leaving me the car while he is away at this point. I'm not sure if I mind or not. While I don't mind not driving, I'd appreciate it if he had a little faith in me.


La classe
Yesterday was my first day of French class. I started off by introducing myself (Je m'appelle Gabriella. J'ai 19 ans. Je suis Americaine. blahblahblah). There are about 14 people in the class, about four boys and ten girls. They are all from Turkey and Tunisia, they are all Muslim, and they are all married. The age range is about 26 to 40. None of them no where California is. None of them knew what an au pair was. None of them want to visit the US because it is too dangerous. Maybe none of that should surprise me, but it did. I probably don't know where their hometowns are. And even They all hate Bush and think Obama is ok. The Turks sit at one end of the table and the Tunisians sit at the other end. They all go back and forth between their native languages and French and have fantastic accents. After my grand introduction, I took a few placement exams. I wasn't too pleased with how I did (I kept confusing my use of near future, simple future, and conditional tenses). But the teacher seemed impressed. After the tests, it was break time. I had planned on going down to the crêperie down the street for some food but the tests ran a little into my break time and some of the older Turkish women bring food to share so I got to sit with them. After break, the teacher (Stephanie) gave me a few exercises (all very easy dealing with basic verbs and phrases). She corrected my work as I went. Here and there laughing at a careless mistake or a slight misunderstanding ("No, no Gabriella. Ce n'est pas la vendeuse qui demande 'combien', c'est le client!"). Personally, I didn't think it was funny but she was British so that might explain it. If anything, the class is something to get me out of the house for a day. And for that, I am thankful.

L'aspirateur

a diagram of the vacuum. made in paint by me :)

Earlier this week, I think Tuesday, Jacques asked me to vacuum the house. I thought it was a little strange to vacuum a house that had no carpet, but no matter how many times I swept and mopped the first week, the bottoms of my feet would get blacker and blacker. So Tuesday morning, I went to vacuum the house but the vacuum would not pick up anything and I couldn't figure out why. So I resigned to sweeping again and told Jacques when he got home. He must have tried it out yesterday while I was in class and gotten it to work, because he asked me to vacuum again this morning. So again I turned on the vacuum and all it did was move the dirt around in circles without picking it up. So I took off the extension and the vacuum does have suction, it just wasn't reaching down  for whatever reason. I spent the rest of the morning crawling around the house on my hands and knees trying to vacuum. Eventually I gave up once again and swept the last two rooms. Jacques came home just as I was finishing and when I explained to him again that the vacuum wasn't working, we went over to the vacuum and he pressed a tiny button on the bottom of the extension and suddenly it worked. I was speechless, trying to stay composed after all the trouble it had given me. Jacques asked me if I had swept the whole house again and I couldn't take it anymore. I burst into tears sobbing that I had spent the whole morning on my hands and knees with the vacuum. He felt horrible and proceeded to console me and make me an amazing lunch even though I was going to eat it by myself since he was going out with a friend. Also, while Jacques was at the gym this morning, he found out about two American girls living in the area and got their phone numbers and email addresses. I emailed them both and heard back from one today. Lauren, a 25-year-old English Language Assistant from Florida, and I are going to have lunch next week. So in the end what started out as yet another stressful day ended up not being so bad after all.

déjeuner (G à D): baguette, Mont D'or fromage, une pomme, les pommes de terre (en petits morceaux), une petite barquette de salade, l'eau, deux côtelettes du veau