It's been a long time coming...NEW BLOG!

I am sorry I haven’t written a blog sooner. I am a bad Dina for making you all wait so long. Because I know you all LOVE my blogs. So I’m not going to make you wait any longer, friends. Without further adieu, I give you blog…

Getting Married

I’d just like you to all meet my new future husband, Mister Wentwhorth Miller. These last couple weeks were devoted to Prison Break, and instead of the usual going out pattern that Sapna and I have grown accustomed to, we had the new Sapna sleepover pattern, where more nights than not, I would go over there in my pajammy jams, and we would kick back and watch the DVDs for Season 1. It’s fantastic. And my husband is great in it. The only problem is, Sapna thinks that Wentworth is her future husband. There may be potential problems of catastrophic proportions here.

My Students and Wenthworth

So, after being introduced to this fine specimen of man, Mr. Miller, I was teaching in class, and I saw one of the girls had a picture from a magazine on her desk of him. So I went over and I go to the class, ‘Look, she has a picture of my husband.’ So then someone in the class goes “You’re getting married?” and I go, yes as a joke, and so the whole class starts clapping and telling me congratulations, for getting married. I felt badly telling them it was just a joke.

But anyway, being the strong support team they are, my French Fries remembered that I liked Mr. Miller, and the next class (my birthday), one kid comes up to me and hands me a poster of Wentworth. After thanking him, I asked if he knew it was my birthday, and the other students were like “It’s your birthday?!” Next thing I know they are all taking out their teeny bopper magazines from their desks and tearing out anything that made the slightest mention of Wentworth Miller. I walked out of their with 3 posters of him, 3 articles, and 3 centerfolds. I should make mention of how much I love peanut M&Ms, because clearly in that class, if you announce it, they will come.

Time to Brag

I went to the beach last week. It was soooo beautiful and warm outside. And then I even ventured into the water. That was stupid cause the temperature in the water wasn’t nearly as beautiful, and I thought my feet were going to fall off. I also even got sunburnt. Are you jealous, huh huh? But to make you all feel a little better, this week it got pretty cold again. But I’m not worried. I’m confident that I will be back at the beach in no time.

Taking the Midnight Train to Georgia (AKA Monaco)

So a couple weekends ago, Sapna and I decided to head over to Monaco to go to the normal club there and get our dance on. We were all pumped and ready to go, but we got a late start and had to run in our high heels and dressy clothes to the train station. Which was sad cause we were quite out of shape. But anyway, as we were catching our breaths anticipating the train that was scheduled to come at precisely the moment of our arrival, we look up at the board, only to see that the train was going to be indefinitely late. So we were a little annoyed, but figured we would just relax at the station for a couple minutes.

Unfortunately, 20 cold minutes later, we realized the train wasn’t just going to be a little late. It was then we got word finally, that the train was running an hour late. So we were trying to figure out what we should do, since it was pretty cold and we didn’t want to have to wait another 40 minutes in the cold on a train station bench. We were thinking about ditching Monaco and just going back to the old town like usual, but my heart was set on Monaco. So we decided we would head to the downtown area and try to get a glass of wine or something while we were waiting, since it would be cheaper in Nice anyway.

However, as soon as we leave the station we look straight ahead, and see some neon flashing lights. Hopeful that we would be able to save ourselves some walking, we headed to the light (pun can be intended, if you would like), and jackpot…it was like a late night restaurant/bar that was open (I should mention this was at like midnight). So we go to open the door and see if we could get some wine, and it was as if we walked into a scene of a movie. It was this tiny little shady restaurant with maybe 4 tables inside. There was latin music playing, and there were about 5 guys sitting at the tiny bar (they were all clearly friends with each other and the man working behind the bar) that could barely accommodate all of them. And then there was the bartender, wearing the Hawaiian print button down, who was of course, using a cloth to dry some glasses. The door had those bells on it, so as soon as the bells sounded, all 5 of the patrons turn around, and they just stop talking and doing anything and just stare at us. I could almost hear crickets in the distance.

Then we asked the bartender if he had any wine, and they actually had a cooler in the back in which they were chilling red wine. In France. Chilling RED wine. I think you could be tried for treason here for that. But anyway, we pick one out, ask the price, and then surprise them a little when we say it’s too much we want the cheapest wine they have. And then we surprise them more by asking them to take the cork out for us. But we didn’t care. 10 minutes later we were happily sipping on our 7 euro chilled red wine. And another 15 minutes later we were happily on our way to another fun night in Monaco.

Food the American Way

So this week was my week of teaching food to the French Fries. We were talking about what time we eat meals, and when I told them a lot of people in America eat dinner at around 6 or 7 o’clock, they were so shocked. They thought that was crazy. (Most of them ate at least at 8 o’clock, but many of them at 9).

I was also trying to explain some other types of food to them, and the best was trying to explain a bagel. They were not getting it. They knew it looked like a doughnut, so they had a hard time comprehending the fact that it wasn’t sweet like one. And the fact that it was bread that was round, that you cut in half was like mind boggling to them. So while it was confounding them, it was greatly saddening me, because it made me realize the nonexistence of bagels in this country. I haven’t had a bagel in almost 6 months now. That’s just not right.

They were also really surprised that we eat things that are salty for breakfast. The French apparently eat mostly sweet things for breakfast, like nutella and bread, cookies, pancakes, doughnuts, and all those beautiful things. I was really surprised to hear that they don’t really even eat eggs for breakfast. That’s absolutely the American way.

I also asked the students if there were any other foods that we didn’t cover that they wanted to learn the words for, and in each class, without fail, they started with “How do you say CocaCola in English?” and then “How do you say beer?” I answered them, but some of the teachers weren’t pleased that I was teaching them the word for beer. But I drew the line when they started asking how we say ‘Bordeaux Wine’ in English.

A (Happy?) Accident

So this story is a little sad, but shocking, and a little funny all rolled into one. When I walk home for lunch or at the end of the day, one my little chicklets that I teach also walks home so I usually walk her part of the way, and we just talk about whatever. So the other day she was telling me that her mom can’t come to pick her up anymore from school cause she is very tired because of the baby. So I was like “How old is the baby?” and she was like “It’s still in her stomach.” (which I thought was pretty adorable). Then she goes “It’s due at the end of this month, and I am going to have 5 siblings.” So I say “Wow! That’s a lot of children!” to which the little girl replies “Yes, but this one was a mistake.” Just like that, too. All matter-of-factly. So I imply it’s a fortunate mistake, and she was like “Yes, but my mom was on medicine so she wasn’t supposed to get pregnant, but she did.” So little 8 year old knows that the impending little brother/sister is a mistake. That’s a huge advantage to have in future familial arguments over the mistaken child. (I’m just recalling the times a certain someone tried to convince me and his friends that I was adopted…).

St. Patty’s Day…the French Way

On this holiday, where everyone pretends to be Irish, myself included, we hit up the biggest Irish bar in Old Nice, Ma Nolan’s. I have never seen it so crowded! It turns out that the 17^th was also a big day in Rugby, having like 5 rugby games from different countries being played almost simultaneously. So we arrived at about 6 o’clock, and met up with other assistants who had been there since like 3 in the afternoon. Even I found that a little crazy! So we just chilled and did our thing, and I had to drink Guinness, even though it’s vile and disgusting (I know know this). I met some people, too, who were teaching me some words in French. I also learned there are only 5 profilers in France from him. So if I ever live out my dream to be a profiler, I know where to work. Although the U.S. also has 60% of the world’s serial killers, so I think it’s all relative.

Merla was playing that night so we rocked out with them for awhile, but by midnight I was feeling pretty tired already, and Sapna and I were content with the idea of returning to her place and watching Prison Break for the rest of the evening. But not before I bought a panini from my favorite crepe man. And after a panini, Sapna and I were on our way to her place when we decided a crepe was in order to wash down the salty. So we went back to the crepe stand, and my favorite crepe man was making fun of us, but he also hooked us up with a freebie. Now that’s a good St. Pat’s Day present right there! So that was basically how I celebrated it. It was really fun, and more than I normally would have done in the states, I think. And it was good practice for my birthday to come J.

Dina “Lucky Number” Berk

I was walking back home a few days ago after an all-night Prison Break marathon, and I was looking pretty crappy. Then all of a sudden this older guy walks past me and does a double take. So I know for sure it’s not cause he thinks I’m a looker, unless he is into that sweaty nappy hair in PJ’s look. So then he starts talking to me. And I understood as asking me for some money. But clearly my French was whack, because he asks in English then for me to give him 3 numbers between 1 and 16 ‘so that he can play them to win’. I was so confused, so I just gave him 2, 3, and 5. Hardly the numbers I would give if I weren’t on the spot. But now I am wondering if my lucky aura helped him win anything. And would I be entitled to some of that?

MY BIRTHDAY!!

So, as you all should know, it was my birthday yesterday! I turned the big 2-3, but everyone who I made guess thought I was turning the big 2-1. I look quite young apparently. But anyway, I decided to make a 2 night celebration out of my birthday because A) I can B) How many birthdays do you get in France? C) I wanted to hear Merla sing me Happy Birthday.

So the first night I just wanted it to be a night with me and Sapna (and Merla, since they weren’t playing anywhere on the 20^th). So we headed out to Ma Nolan’s. It turned out that night Merla was shooting a music video there, and so they asked us to dance while they were playing. They not being Merla but the guys shooting the video, because even they knew our propensity for dancing. Thus, out on the floor were we, getting our groove on and potentially being in a new video. I am not pleased seeing pictures from that night, because they look like I am about to be a mother to quintuplets, and I do not want that immortalized through video. But what can you do?

Of course I got my hookups of shots from the bartenders J. And I got more bizous (those double cheek kisses) in that night than I had the whole week. It was a really fun night. Unfortunately I got back at 3 AM, and had to be at work at 8:30 AM, so the next day was a little rough. But it was so worth it to hear Merla sing for me at midnight!

The next day I had work, but knowing it was my birthday got me through the day quite nicely. Some of my students even sang me ‘Happy Birthday,’ which was super cute cause it was even in English! Some of them also made me some on-the-spot birthday cards.

But the real fun began that night! Me, Alix, Sapna, Angelique, and Elena went out to dinner at around eight o’clock to an Indian restaurant in the Old Nice. It was a little place called Delhi Belhi (the name alone makes me smile). We ordered a bottle of wine and what was seemingly not a whole lot of food. We each got our own dish and a couple dishes of rice to share along with some Naan. I personally got something called Chicken Mansala, which promised to be spicy (and it did a fine job of delivering), and the other girls all got lamb, with the exception of Sapna, who got something vegetarian (cause that’s how she rolls) which was even spicier than mine. It was so delicious. My dish was my favorite, realizing I am not so much a fan of lamb that night. But I couldn’t even finish my dish, and I was feeling like my stomach was expanding to the size of…something that’s really big. My analogy skills are lacking at the moment. And just when I thought I couldn’t put a single bite of anything more in my mouth, out comes the ‘birthday cake’ which was actually some hard pistachio ice cream, and these coconut bread things. So I quietly apologized in advance to my tummy, and helped myself to some dessert. I have to say, Indians certainly know how to do dessert.

The girls all treated me to that dinner, which was super sweet, and we headed out to Wayne’s, where we were to get our dance on. And did we ever. There, too, the bartenders were hooking me up with birthday wine, but I couldn’t even fit a lot of it in my stomach. No siree. But that didn’t stop us from dancing and mingling, and just having an awesome time. We stayed there until closing and then I headed back with Sapna where I think I fell asleep even before my head hit the pillow.

All-in-all it was a fantastic birthday for me! Thank you to all of you for all the kind e-mails, cards, messages, and phone calls. And my parental units hooked me up with a sexy new camera for my birthday, so you better believe you are going to be getting buttloads of photos in the upcoming days.

A Dictionary For French Fries

Today, I just had to make note of this, I saw the cutest thing in the world that I never noticed before. For some reason (actually the reason is a lack of teachers) I teach a class that accommodates two different grades. So there are some students in the equivalent of third grade with some students in fourth grade. So naturally the fourth graders are a little bigger, but they all have the same desks. But today I was looking at one of the French Fries, and he was sitting on a Dictionary to give him some height so he could see over the desk. And then I looked to see if that was the norm, and the younger side of the classroom were all sitting on their dictionaries! Two thoughts ran in my head when I saw that. 1) How frickin’ cute is that?! 2) Dang, I wish I had small enough hips to comfortably sit on a dictionary!

So, that is all I have for you. However, Sapna just gave me a bunch of photos she had, so I shall send a bunch your way, if you don’t mind. I hope you are all doing well, and I want to wish you all a happy and healthy Spring!

Missing you all,

Dina