Nifty Nice

So, this time, I am at no shortage of stories to share with you. So many strange/funny/loco things have happened recently. So let’s see. Where should I start??

I’ll start at the moment I left the internet café the other day after writing my last e-mail. There are only late night buses that run here after 9 PM , which is kind of annoying because they follow very different routes, and they only come around every hour. So, to my joy, Alix and I were able to make our bus (after running like idiots). And so we were in good spirits while hyperventilating after the run (ok, that was only me), and then we see this seemingly homeless man get on the bus. The only reason I noticed him was because she seemed to be very intoxicated, because he was stumbling around. So that was that. BUT THEN, he reaches into his fanny pack (yes, I said fanny pack), and touches something. And next thing we know, there are 3 RATS that come out. And this guy is sitting in the seat right in front of Alix and me. So then, he starts letting them crawl around on his shoulders and neck (which happened to be right in front of our faces), and every once in awhile, one falls onto his lap or next to him. EWWWW. I can’t even write this without getting the heebie jeebies. So after I practically am sitting in Alix’s lap cause I need some comforting, and all the other ladies around have panic stricken faces, Alix and I decide to get off the bus at the next possible stop. So much for running for the bus. But seriously. Who A) has a fanny pack, B) Keeps rats in their fanny pack? Ick. In my mind this story takes the cake for being so bizarringly disgusting….

So, for the next story, I was talking to Alix about these e-mails, and she asked me if I had mentioned Mister Opera Man to you yet. And I had not. So you know how every once in awhile when you are on your own (or even in the company of a friend) you love just blasting your music and soaking it in? Well, imagine doing that every single day at lunch time, but with French Opera music. And imagine being this guy’s neighbor. I say to each his own, but not when his own is now mine, too. So this story is lame in comparison to the other one. I apologize.

Yesterday, I started going to these seminars (6 hours of lectures) about how I am expected to teach. So I started talking to these two English girls, who are very nice, and are teaching me the differences between British English and American English (and who also shot down my attempt at an English Accent). So, while I was eating my crisps at tea with these two Freshers in Uni, an older man came up to me (I would guess he was in his late 60’s), and he told me that my face very much resembled that of his mother when she was his age. I somehow was flattered. I don’t know why, because as far as I am concerned his mother could have been Eleanor Roosevelt (who we all know was not much of a looker), but it was sort of nice that I invoked this memory in him, so much so that he felt the need to stop and tell me. Or at least I am 75% sure that is what he told me. My French comprehension is still a little shaky.

Oh yeah. There is one more anecdote that I thought was adorable/funny that I forgot to mention from my observations. In one of the classes, the students were reviewing “My name is”, “I am ___ years old.”, “I am from…”, etc. So they had to choose a celebrity and write their identity on a card as if they were them. A few kids chose 50 Cent (who, I had to explain to the principal that was observing with me, is a rap artist who chose to leave the s of the “Cent” even though it is, in fact, improper English). Anyway, one of the kids chose “Misturebine”, which at first looks like some crazy artist or something. But when he said it aloud, we realized, with much amusement, that he was actually talking about “Mr. Bean”. So that made me giggle. Hee hee.

So that is pretty much what I wanted to write about. I actually have to head back to part 2 of my seminars L. I also have them all day tomorrow, too. Make them stop!

I still miss you all, and I’m still appreciating the e-mails, mail, and calls that you are receiving very much!!

Much love,

Dina XOXOX

(I don’t know if I want to call myself Dina Berk anymore, because yesterday I found out that the people in France say “Berk” instead of “Yuck”, So basically that makes my French name DinaYuck. Not cool. )