Fete du Citron

Sunday, a few other au pairs and I drove to Menton for this festival where they make sculptures out of lemons and oranges-- the world famous 78th annual Fete du Citron! Despite the rain, it was well worth the 4 hours of driving. We saw a parade, were attacked by inflatable clowns, walked through the "jardin" of citron sculptures, got lost walking back to the car, ended up in Italy, and got stuck in a traffic jam on the way back (while I was driving-- lets just say I will never stall out going into 1st gear again, yay!). I didn't want to carry around my Nikon all day so I opted to bring my Droid2 instead. I have to say the pictures still came out pretty well. Below is the city of Menton, followed by pictures of the festival. Enjoy!

 

 

Play with fire, you're gonna get burned// pheonix is born out of the ashes

Finally left Trans today. Kinda don't even know what to say about that.

This morning was awful. Woke up around 8, got the kids breakfast, and took a shower. When I got out of the shower, I went into the kitchen to find honey and sugar partout! I didn't even know there was honey in the house! Alex was already watching TV in the other room, and Max was building lego dams in the bathroom (aka- another mess to be cleaned up by me). And that is pretty much how the morning went-- kids making one mess after another while I cleaned up the previous messes. I know I should have made them help me clean up but I really didn't feel like arguing with them on my last day. By lunch, only two of the hamburgers had defrosted, so I had to make a cordon bleu filet for myself, blech. But hopefully that was the last I'll have of those for a while, the morning and the filet. Unfortunately it wasn't over. While I was cleaning up from lunch, the boys mysteriously disappeared. Germaine was coming to get them at 1:30pm, so at 1pm, I went to find Maxime to get him ready for soccer. I walked down the hall to see the door to Max's room closed. I knocked three times and Alex came running out slamming the door behind him-- but not before a good wiff of smoke came got out. I opened the door to piles and piles of smouldering ashes covering the floor. I was speechless, but somehow gestured for Max to leave the room. Put out the ashes easily enough (thanks lifeguarding for teaching me how to stay calm in a potential emergency and no thanks France for not mandating smoke alarms and fire extinguishers), but all I wanted to do was shrivel up like the pieces of paper the kids had burned. I told Germaine about it when she arrived and she was just like, oh haha, boys were playing with fire tralala. Whatever, I'm over it (St. Francis girl style).
Thank God I am out of there now, and I will never have to deal with any of those people ever again. I can't believe how much I did for them. I did end up getting paid in the end. I wrote Jacues a letter further explaining everything I tried to say that he cut off with his snide insults and unvarying french-ness.

I even drew a picture for the kids.

But now I am here, and here I am happy. I've got a new friend already! The other au pair, Beke, who is here until the end of the month. The kids are kind of bratty but very very cute. They have these tiny little voices and they speak French but understand English. The mom, Christine, is the sweetest, and Nigel, the father, is hilarious! Until Beke leaves, I am staying in the apartment/guest house, so I've pretty much got a little place all to myself. So much for needing a holiday to St. Tropez! Beke and I are going to meet some other au pairs there tomorrow afternoon. So... quick turnaround. Tonight's a me night, I've been spending the evening chowing down on madeleines, potato chips, and coca cola. Oh, and partaking in television watching! Friends, Gossip Girl, and now Forgetting Sarah Marshall. They have British TV here, so everything is in English and it is very lovely. Here's to new beginnings!

Last few days in Trans

So the story behind confronting Jacques starts with with Maxime, Thursday night. Jacques had picked the boys off from school, dropped them off at the house, asked me to get Max in the shower by 6, and gone to get a haircut. At 6pm sharp, I went to fetch Max from his television show about spinning tops. Not only did he downright refuse to come, scream at me for 15 minutes after I turned off the TV, try to tip over the chair I was sitting on while I was waiting for him, but Alex came over and was equally as belligerent in trying to make me let Max finish his show. I held my ground. But neither of them would listen to me. When Jacques got home and asked what was going on I simply told him that Max didn't want to take a shower. Max protested, but his version of the story didn't help him in the slightest, since Jacques had indeed said to shower at 6. Once Max left the room, I felt like the entire room start to collapse in on me. For the third time since I've been here, Jacques asked me if I wanted to go home. This time, I said that I wasn't happy with how I was being treated and I was very sorry but I didn't want to stay. During that conversation, Jacques remained calm but didn't seem to grasp that I didn't want to go home, I just didn't want to stay with him. He asked if I wanted to leave over the weekend. Obviously that wouldn't have worked for me. I don't know if he meant to sound like he wanted me out of here more than I wanted to get out of here, but it sure felt like it. I told him I would think about my options and let him know the next day. So Friday at lunch, it was his turn to confront me: "Quand tu pars?" I had talked to the agency and they said I needed to stay for 2 weeks. I protested because there is no way I am putting up with this for 2 more weeks; no self-respecting person would. They said they would see what could be done but I would have to stay the weekend. I told Jacques that yadayadayada. Then he goes on this huge spiral about how being an au pair isn't easy, and maybe I'm just not au pair material. How he knows it's very difficult but his other au pairs were excellent, incroyable, but they were also Russian. That kind of pissed me off (especially because I have thought to myself: oh great, now they are going to think that all Americans are just like me. And really, it probably would be a good thing if all, or even most, Americans were like me). So I broke it down for him, Jacques, I am 19 years old and you are asking me to do too much work. I know it's not easy but this is too hard. Well he didn't like that-- "It's not supposed to be a vacation, it's very difficult. Do you understand?" He didn't have to belittle me like that. I'm responding, therefore yes I understand. I should have torn him to pieces, but I'm not like that. Never have been, never will be. "Ouais, c'est pas de la tarte," finished eating, and then I cleaned up.
To be honest, I really don't know what I did wrong for him. I know what I did wrong for me-- putting myself in this situation despite the doubts I had before I even left home, and then staying in it without trying to change anything as every bad thing that I could never have imagined happened. I really put my whole self into this past month and only got 160€ to show for it. For some reason, I don't really care though. I am still going to ask Jacques to pay me for the rest of my time (another 160€). But if he doesn't pay me, to take some cultural attitudes/phrases from the French: tant pis, c'est la vie! I think the reason I'm being so nonchalant about the money (besides being semi-terrified of this guy) is because of all the non-material things I've gotten out of this experience. I know it's totally cliche, girl goes to France to find herself, but the amount of confidence and self worth I have earned is priceless. And then there are my new friends, who have been so great the past couple days (more about that later) and are so supportive of me. That's what really matters in life: loving yourself and surrounding you with people you love and who love you back.
Monday, tomorrow (ah, it's almost here at last), I am supposed to have an interview with another family, the Caphams. I don't really know how it's all supposed to work. The agency is supposed to call in the morning and then Jacques is supposed to take me somewhere but I don't know where or when (and does that mean he's not working tomorrow?). From the information the agency provided, the new family looks nice. The dad is British and the mom is French. They have two little boys, Thomas, 4, and Matthew, 5 going on 6. They ride horses and they have two dogs, three cats, and three chickens! The dad does something with electricity for pools and parks and stuff? and the mom is the director of urban planning in St. Tropez. They live in Cogolin, a small town 6 miles from St. Tropez. They have 15 hectares of property! The house is big, not as "extravagant" as Chez-Derni, but still nice. There is a pool, and garden and the rest is mine to explore! If  I decide to go with them of course. I admit, I'm a little apprehensive after this catastrophe. I've come up with a page long list of questions and things I want to talk about before I make a decision ranging from the disciplinary practices they employ and expect from me to whether or not they'd be OK with me taking a couple days in St. Tropez before I go to stay with them. They speak English so that will certainly make communication easier. All I can do is hope for the best.
Enough work, it's play time. Or at least the last two nights have been. Friday, was bowling night. But we ended up having dinner at the Italian assistant's apartment, going to the bowling alley for a little bit (the shadiest bowling alley I've ever seen by the way, and I've been to the one in West Sac), and then going to the bar around the corner (my first bar ever-- exciting!). I had a drink called a Monaco, recommended by Anthony. It's just beer, grenadine syrup, and 7-up (aka-delicious). I was home by 11 and I slept well for the first time in two weeks. Saturday, I drew pictures with Max in the morning (I think Jacques might have talked to them while I was out the night before about being nice to me), and then the boys had soccer all afternoon. I stayed home and worked on my online classes. I got an A on my first Nutrition midterm but I still have to write that essay for Art History (yikes). At 8pm, Anthony and his friend picked me up for our dinner/karaoke/dancing soirée at this place inside the Hyper U at les Arcs (strange concept but very very very fun). I had another Monaco for aperitif. I shared pizza, fromaggi quattro, with Vanessa, the English assistant from Mississippi. I sang Loca, by Shakira, with Anthony (I'd never even heard the song before so really it was Anthony who did most of the work, I picked up the chorus pretty quickly though), then Barbie Girl and Toxic with Lauren, Vanessa, and Joanne. By the time we finished Toxic it was already 1am! I left with the girls since Anthony was staying until the place shut down at 3! I had the best time though. I really hope that I can stay in touch with everyone (tgffb) and that we can all hang out again soon. Like I said in my last blog, everything is so up in the air right now. But it doesn't matter to me because I know, in the end it will be worth it. And like one of the songs two little old French men sang as a duet, to the style of Frank Sinatra, says, "The record shows I took the blows and did it my way!"

one month mark

With the one month mark just around the corner, I am feeling like it's time to come clean. Despite how determined I've been to make the most out of this situation and the tablespoonfuls of optimism I've been piling on every baguette, salad, cut of veal, and piece of chocolate that I shove in my mouth hoping it will cure the ebbing doubt, I kinda hate it here. The more au pair blogs I read about how the girls were so unhappy with their original families, but once they worked up the courage to stand up for themselves, and subsequently made the "change", the more I know that I am not alone in this and that I must follow suit. I know that I will feel extremely terrible and guilty if I do end up changing, but it can't be worse than how I feel now. I've given it my best shot. I'll talk to Jacques during our aperitif, Friday, and we'll see how it goes from there. 

But if I do have to change, I know it will be for the best. As quickly as January passed, I don't want to be like this for seven more months. Who knows though, maybe Jacques will really respond to my demands and I'll live happily ever after here. I kind of doubt that though. I think part of me wants him to kick me to the curb. I have no idea if he will accept my proposal, but even if he does, I don't know if I could ever be truly happy in this house. Like Amityville Horror, there is just too much pain. It oozes out from the un-grouted cracks in the floor makes the air toxic. Remember how I said Jacques was telling me his story with his house? This is this story he has to tell. He is in so much pain. The boys are too. And it hurts me just as much to see them act out the way they do. AND I AM SO TIRED FROM WORKING 40+ HOUR WEEKS. And from not sleeping. I told Ricky that I am living The Feminine Mystique. It is actually probably a good thing that I read that right away. It has helped me to see what I need to do not only to stay me but to pick up where I left off after high school and really start to grow again. I need to confront Jacques 

In other news it is absolutely beautiful today.