America offers Reno 911! the movie. Nice offers Carnaval...

Hello everybody!! I hope that you’re all doing well and happy, and staying warm. You know what time it is?! 1:43 pm. Ok, ok. It’s BLOG TIME!

Fat Tuesday!

So last Tuesday was Mardi Gras. And how many times are you in France during Mardi Gras in a lifetime. So we opted to go out to the Parade that night. Here they have about 4 parades a week for a few weeks during Carnaval, and they tend to repeat the themes of the parade…but this was our first time. It was sooo much fun. I can’t even begin to tell you.

Here’s how it’s different from American Mardi Gras….

1) Silly String is the bomb. Literally. The word for silly string here is ‘le bombe’. And it is sooo great because you buy a couple cans and it’s all out war with you, the other spectators, and the people in the parade. It’s great, too, cause what better way to get the attention of a cute guy than to shoot him in the face with silly string?! We were all such a mess, but were loving every second. We got in a fight with some kiddies, though. A fight of the silly string kind. And they ran out of it, so they resorted to picking up chunks of it from the ground and throwing it at us. And when I least expected it I got pegged in the face with a ball of silly string and something hard that made my nose feel not too pretty. We opted to stop the game there.

2) Confetti Galore. Just like the parade I was in, Confetti was flowing like cheap wine at ladies’ night (back to that later). The people on the floats had these Confetti Guns, and there were these big elaborate confetti blowers. Again, totally pimped out in confetti attire.

3) Nobody shows their boobies. You don’t need to show your love pillows for goodies here like they do in New Orleans. A little role reversal, huh? The exhibitionist Europeans are the ones who are showing restraint this time around, and the prude Americans are walking Bourbon Street naked.

4) The King of New Orleans is a Rugby playing Jack Chirac. That would be like making the King George Bush in America. Well, like Clinton. And holding a football. But I’m told this is the first year it was a political King.

5) There is a parade-wide choreographed Dance. Everyone in the parade learned the same dance and did it like 5 times throughout the night. I thought that was reserved for the little kiddies I was accompanying. So not the case.

It was really sooo much fun, and the floats were awesome, and the dancers were awesome, and my company was the best part (the usual suspects).

Afterwards we decided to hit it up at the bar “Thor’s” where it’s ladies’ night on Tuesdays. I, of course, got my dance on to my favorite band here, Merla, and we met some pretty cool people that night.

So I had a very memorable French Mardi Gras. Yay me!

McMardi Gras

So how stereotyped are Americans in France? Well, I have a little anecdote to relay that may answer this question in part. As I mentioned two minutes ago (please see previous topic for those who have ADD), it is Carnaval time here in Nice. Surprisingly, with the possible exception of Christmas, the people here seemed the most into that holiday, with the little French Fries having parties where they got all dressed up and ate delicious food. But anyway, back to my story. So to kick off this week, and to take it easy before my vacation (which, I am pleased to announce began Thursday after work and ends the 12^th of March), I decided to talk about the way Mardi Gras is celebrated back in the States, or more specifically, in New Orleans.

So, there I was, sexy PowerPoint Presentation in hand, explaining Mardi Gras, all excited about the fancy pictures I found when I asked one class if they had any questions for me (assuming they would be about Mardi Gras). To my dismay, after my excited jabber, nobody raised their hands. So I offered my ‘No questions? I find that hard to believe!’ to which one student raised his hand. I was pleased that there was finally someone interested in my topics of teaching, until he asked his question. “Do Americans eat a lot more hamburgers than people in France?” Not exactly what I was going for. But you have to laugh at that one. So I did. And then the discussion took a turn from the festivities of Mardi Gras to the prevalence of McDonald’s. Good thing I was lazy and didn’t have lesson plans. Otherwise we would have been way off track.

It’s All in the Name

One of my classes has this really great teacher. He’s one of the friendliest and accommodating teachers to me and my English lessons. So it was no surprise when he was curious as to what my plans were for the upcoming vacation. So, at the end of class I was telling him how I was going to be taking a trip to Italy with a friend who is visiting from America. I told him how we were staying in Florence. He was telling me about this place I have to go see which is a neighboring town. And as he’s explaining the location of said town, one of the students in the class in front of which we were discussing my trip pipes in. He goes “You’re going to Florence?? That’s my mom.” After I forced myself once again) to stop laughing, we explained it’s also a place in Italy which seemed to calm his confused demeanor. French fries are so naïve and adorable. But it reminded me of the time I heard my mom talking about Hungary and I agreed that I was, too, and we needed to get home and eat something. So, I guess I’m not one to talk.

It’s No ‘Office’, but it’ll do

If you’re ever bored, I have a new recommendation. “Entourage”. It’s much better than I expected. Although I’ve only got the first season. And if you want cheap thrills, than I would go with “Nip/Tuck”. Although it’s so off the top that it’s almost predictable. If that makes any sense. Bottom line: I watch too many shows.

La Bataille des fleurs

Yesterday (Saturday) I headed to another parade. This one was more of an event cause you have to pay to get it, so I was expecting magic. So after waiting on line for a good while to buy the damn tickets, me, my roommate Alix, and her friend Marta and her boyfriend (the best looking French guy I’ve seen to date), headed into the parade. We bought standing room tickets, so we squeezed into a little crevice among the crowded barrier. So the premise of the parade is a Parade centered around flowers. That’s all I knew about it, so I wasn’t sure what to expect.

It started late which was pretty annoying, but then it got off the ground pretty quickly. So basically what it entailed were a bunch of floats that were composed of hundreds of flowers, and then people in the parade were throwing out Mimosa flowers into the crowd. There were also dancers and musicians like the previous parade, but the aura wasn’t the same. There wasn’t the same energy to it that the other night parade had.

I thought I was going to have to break up a fight though next to me because there were these two old couples in front of me and then there was this mother that tried to squeeze her child into the front. And they were NOT having it. I mean understandably, we were super cramped and got their early enough to be towards the front…and paid, so it’s not fair for someone to just show up and squeeze themselves to the front. But this lady next to me (who was reallllly annoying cause she kept shoving her hand in my face to take pics and her hair kept blowing into my face which gave me the heebie jeebies) started yelling at the couple that it was a child. And then the couples retorted. And it got louder and louder and more threatening (in my ear, of course), but the best the annoying lady could come up with was ‘I hope your pictures don’t come out at all’. I think that’s when people realized they should throw in the towel, because you can’t reason with such a monster.

Sweet Dreams are made of these…

So I think I made mention of the fact that here in France, since my arrival, I have been dreaming so much. All my dreams have been quite vivid as well, and mostly just really bizarre.

So two nights ago, I had one of the most bizarre dreams that made me realize I am online waaaaay too much. In a nutshell, I dreamt that the doorbell rang, so I went to answer the door and this random guy punched me in the face and stole my laptop. So in an attempt later on to find out who it was, I borrowed someone else’s laptop, and I was actually instant messaging the robber, and then he sent me an instant message that had one of those smileys that you use…but it had a black eye and a runny nose. Then he apologized for punching me in the face. That’s the only vivid part I remember but then I do know I was sent on this scavenger hunt to find him ultimately. So it was a mix of Rocky, Ocean’s 11, and Amélie all in one.

But I think it was a subconscious intervention for my addiction to the internet.

My One-on-One French Fry Is the Bomb Diggity

I am pleased to announce that the boy I tutored got an A on his last test. Yes, he did. (It was irregular verbs). So all those index cards and practice tests paid off. And he was so proud to show me. It was really cute.

And there is this phenomenon apparently, where if you talk about what he’s passionate about his English gets like 10 times better. We were just having random conversation to practice his oral English, and I taught him the verb “to try”. And he goes, you know, there’s a thing called a try in rugby (he’s very passionate about playing rugby), so I was like ‘oh yeah? You think you can teach me the rules of rugby?’ So, all of a sudden there he was speaking English super fast and using big words and just being impressive. And the added bonus was I learned some of the rules of rugby…but I had Wikepedia explain the confusing parts to me after he left. So that lesson I think I learned more from him than he learned from me. I should be paying him.

Is that all there is?

Yes.

I hope you all had a wonderful week, like I did. And furthermore, this girl gets to go to Italy next week with the visiting Matt. So that should be a good blog to look forward to…I know you all can’t wait.

I miss you all very much, and don’t forget what month is coming up and what very special event happens on the 20^th of that month.

And on an unrelated note:

Dina Berkovits

Chez Mme Craighero

06100 NICE

+33 6 82 69 -- --

(Just thought you may like to have those ;))

XOXOXO,

Dina

Happy Year of the Piggy. Celebratory Blog Time!

Hello everyone. Let’s call it my Valentine’s Day present to you. Happy Valentine’s Day! So this has been already a weird week. It mainly entails craziness that is my job. When it’s not annoyingly noisy in class, it’s bizarrely inappropriate. Which, in turn, gives me good stories to relay to you. Along with some other things. Which reminds me as well, can anyone tell me when the last WEIRD NJ came out? Muchos gracias!

Lost in Translation

So there is this Akon song that is highly inappropriate for adults and children alike. The sensored version is “I Wanna Love You” which sounds innocent enough. But the nonsensored version is the same title but exchange the Love for the much more vulgar word that starts with an F and ends in a K. I’d write it, but I don’t want to burn my parents’ eyes. So we’ll pretend the word is ‘fark’ for the sake of this story, but you really know what the word is. And if you don’t, then I’ll tell you when you’re older.

Anyway, often times my students listen to American music…probably more often than not. They all have a somewhat strange love for Fifty Cent and they also know Christina Aguilera quite well. But, somewhere along the way, from the American circuit to the French waves, the edited versions are lost, and the nonsensored ones are played everywhere (including the radio), because lots of people just don’t understand the American curses.

So today, as I am innocently writing the date on the chalkboard for the French Fries, one of the boys, who often asks me to translate songs (previously translated: ‘my humps…uh…like a camels back’, ‘everybody dance now…everybody start to dance’, and so on.) comes up to me and he goes “What does ‘I wanna fark you?’ mean?”. I literally gasped and covered my mouth. And then I just said ‘no’. Which, like the previous ‘oh sheet’ girl, just got the rest of the class curious. But then I tell him to never use those words in English class, and then I turn around the continue writing the date, and that’s when the laughter starts. It was the longest date writing ever, because I didn’t want to let them see me laughing.

Then when I was walking home for lunch, I was listening to my MP3 player, and of course, Akon comes on. And then, no lie, I look at a tree and I see two birds babymaking. So little miss American is walking alone and literally cracking up thinking about the aforementioned events. We Americans are so very strange. Sapna’s roommate may be onto something there.

Unsmoothy Elevator

So this week some high being is punishing me for being such a lazy bum in France, and in return, the elevator in our apartment is out of commission. They are doing work on it, which is sort of surprising since it never seemed to not work. Sure, it’s the scariest elevator you may ever be on, but still…if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

So every morning we wake up to the sound of metal being sawed, or whatever it is you do to metal. And then if the sound isn’t bad enough, the smell is horrible. It smells like burning rubber, mixed with burning hair, mixed with burning B.O. However, today I think I snapped. What’s that crazy disorder that kidnapped people get where they fall in love with their kidnapper? Cause I had the equivalent episode, just with the nasty smell. All of a sudden the grossness started smelling like cookies in my mind. And I couldn’t get enough of it in my nose. But that’s neither here nor there.

But to top it all off, the mailmen, and their lazy asses, refuse to deliver packages as a result of the no elevator clause they apparently think exists, and pretend that we didn’t hear the doorbell, and make us pick it up from the post office. Lucky for me, you poopheads don’t send me anything (mom, Drew, and Ian…you do)…so Alix is the only one suffering from that fate thus far.

I am the Rainman

I have never seen that movie, so I guess I am a poseur for alluding to it in the title, but all I am saying is that I always know when it’s going to rain because that’s always the day after I hang my laundry to dry. More precisely, it will start as soon as my clothes need only about another hour more in the dry sunshine to completely dry. That’s when the rain will start. You don’t need a meteorologist when Dina’s in town with her stinky clothes. And without a dryer…

I was mocked by someone young enough to not know who Barney is

So since I teach 8 classes a day, I feel like a Troubadour. You know, traveling singer/dancer/English teacher. And so I have my standard big granny sac that I keep everything in. My purse, my cell phone, my colored pencils, my worksheets…literally everything. Needless to say, I get a little scatter-brained running from class to class, and have been known to leave things in the classrooms.

A couple weeks ago, I left my cell phone in one of the classrooms before lunch, so one of my students ran after me to give it to me. It was a little slightly embarrassing, but not enough to make me take pause. However, the class after lunch, I left my cell phone there, too. And then apparently, people talk, because the teacher of that class was like ‘again??’. So fine. A little more embarrassing.

But then, the other day I brought my laptop in to work to show them a powerpoint presentation I made for them for Valentine’s day, and also show them a Valentine’s Day episode of the The Simpsons, and then one of the 8-year-old girls in my class (the one who ran after me with my cell phone that fateful Thursday), smiles sweetly and goes ‘Don’t forget your laptop today.’ She beat me at my own game of sarcastic coyness! And she’s 8!! For that I had to give her props. I think her and I are going to be good friends.

Valentine’s Day Extraordinaire

So, 4 single dateless girls decided to romance with each other and head uptown to Le 54, a cozy little restaurant right next door to where the most dateless of all, Dina, resided. So, all 4 girls, who we will call Dina, Sapna, Angelique, and Alix for the sake of the story, got all dressed up and beautiful for each other, and headed to the restaurant. They had a 3 course menu that night, with a drink included, which was a pretty sweet deal. What better way to cheers the night as a single femme than to eat your heart out.

So back to first person.

For starters, I opted for the escargot. A bold move, for I’ve only had escargot once, and it never entailed a clamping tool and a mini fork with sharp prongs. This time I had to go hunt my little snails down in the shell. And let me tell you…some of those snails were hiding pretty well. And of course, there were several near mishaps where I almost sent the shell or the snail flying towards an unexpected customer. (Speaking of customers, it should be noted that us four were the youngest, by at least 20 years. So that was a little empowering somehow.)

As my main meal I went with the salmon in the chef’s sauce with a side of riz. I had it there before when I first arrived and it was the best salmon of my life. But this time, it wasn’t as good, but it wasn’t too shabby either.

Then onto the dessert, my good friends. I went with the tiramisu, which is not easy to find here in Nice. It was sooo good. Very rich, and very creamy. In other words, I could feel my arteries getting clogged at the time of indulgence. And I was loving every second.

So we had all that for 20 euro. Not too shabby, eh?

The one momentous occasion of the night, however, was the ‘piano player’. I put that in quotes because that is how he was advertised on the Valentine’s Day advertisement. But he was just a glorified lounge keyboard man. And he was serenading the crowd with love songs, for our dining enjoyment. But since we spoke English, his English covers weren’t flying with us. He was nice and polished on the chorus of songs (think “I just called to say I love you”) but then when he would sing the rest of the song, he wasn’t singing words. Just sounds that may have been rough estimations of what the words should be. It was funny for us. But then, he started belting out this French song. And we were just taking it in while eating. The other patrons, they took a pause from eating, though. And unexpectedly, all of the other fine diners started belting out the words with him when the chorus came. So who knew…all this, and karaoke!

All in all, it was a good night. And I hope your Valentine’s Day was good, as well J. Maybe even escargot-rific.

Oh! I forgot to mention my moment of sympathy I earned for the day, too.

I decided since now one was going to buy me flowers, than dammit, I was going to buy them for myself. So I walked to this fresh flower place that I always pass on my way to work, and I picked out potted flowers that are supposedly chrysanthemums, but I think they’re poseurs because they resemble my favorite daisy a little too much. So I take them to the counter to pay for them, and the guy there asks me something. And this is really bad to admit, but when I don’t really understand something someone says, I have an awful habit of just saying yes. Which gets me in trouble, because, for example, on this day he was asking me an either/or question. I thought he was asking me if I want it wrapped up. But anyway, he goes ‘No French?’ To which I reply “mais oui, je parle français.” To which he goes ‘Who eet’s for?’. Me: “ah, moi…”. Him and all the other workers: “Ohh. Eet’s for YOU. You buy zem for yourself!” Me: (disgruntled look) ‘oui.’
He didn’t offer the wrappage again L. But I walked home with some sexy little daisy-look alikes. And now they are gracefully dying in my room. Cause I cannot be trusted with anything living.

The Blind Leading the Blind

Ok, so you are probably thinking that title was some clever metaphor for a story I am going to tell you now. Think again, bucko.

Just when you thought you saw everything, France up and surprises you again. For example, the other day I was walking home past the market, and I look over and I see a blind person. Here all the blind people have those long cane-like sticks they use to feel there way around. It’s quite impressive (and frightening) watching the blind people cross streets here. So anyway, I see this blind person. And then I see she has her arm linked with another woman. Not weird at all. But then it takes a turn for the weird when I realized the lady whose arm she was linked with was also carrying one of those blindman stick things. So yes, two blind women were strolling along, arm-in-arm.

Thus, I saw the blind leading the blind.

Carnavale Time (doo do doooo)

So, one of the coolest opportunities happened last night. I was in the opening parade of Carnavale. Some of the classes I teach were in it, because the opening day has children following the float of the king in Nice. So they invite 4 or 5 classes from every school to be in the parade. One of my teachers invited me to accompany them, since I was going to go watch my kids in it anyway. So we all met at the school, and it was so cute. My students were so surprised and excited to see me. And I actually did my make up and stuff, which surprised the students because usually they see the roll out of bed look.

So, we all went to the classroom where we painted the kids’ faces and got them pimped out in sexy oversized tee-shirts and crazy-colored headbands. Then, it was my turn! I got my face painted and wore my XXL men’s tee-shirt and my hippy headband. I felt like a million bucks.

We then took a bus downtown, where I tried to explain ‘Miss Mary Mac’ to some of the girls, but they weren’t having it. This one girl refused to let go of my hand the whole ride, which was cute, yes, but I sort of wanted my hand back. And then the bus started singing ‘We will rock you’. Props for the English, but that’s all they sang. “We will rock you…” over and over and over again. Needless to say, I wasn’t sad when the bus ride came to an end.

So then we all headed to the Promenade des Anglais, where bleachers were set up for spectators, and that’s when the confetti fights began. We were all given a bag of confetti, and so the kids were all about that. At one point it was ‘Attack Dina with Confetti Time.” Imagine 25 students with a handful of confetti flinging it at you. And since I was laughing, I had plastic confetti all in my mouth, too. Then people started with the silly string. They sell it to the spectators there so they can shoot you with it. We were all such a mess, it was so great.

Then, it was time for the dance segment, where all the students in all the schools learned the same dance. They taught me in about 3 minutes before the parade. It was really cute, though. And there I was trying to follow along. I bet I was adorable, too. Hahaha.

All in all, it was really fun. The teacher took pictures, so hopefully I could get some of those to send to you.

The funniest part of the night, though, came when I called Sapna saying I was downtown and really wanted to go out. I hadn’t been out in a whole week (which is like a record), so I asked if I could just head to her house and clean up there, since I was close. It was so great walking through Vieux Nice. Guys normally ogle any girl that passes, with their stupid ‘you are charming, and radiant’ comments. That stopped that night when they saw the facepaint and confetti all over. Although, I did get one person saying it…in a mocking manner. It was hilarious. And then I was walking among this group of older people who were all dressed to the nines, and then there I am. They were all trying to read my shirt to understand.

When I got to Sapna’s, she and her roommate were quite shocked to see me, and they took pics of the after Dina, so I could definitely get a hold of those. We spent 20 minutes getting the confetti and silly string out of my hair, and another 20 minutes getting the paint of my face.

Then, when I went to change, confetti was flying out of every conceivable pocket and orifice. It wasn’t pretty, but still somehow retained it’s humorous charm.

And that was that. Definitely a night that I’ll remember for years to come!

La Cucheracha

I am absolutely positive I just spelled the title wrong. I apologize. All I want to say here is that if finding cockroaches was as lucky as finding ladybugs, I would be the luckiest lady in the world right now. Two in 24 hours. It makes me take pause before I eat anything (did I mention I found one in the kitchen…ugh).

Ok…so that’s all I’ve got. I hope you all had a great week, and continue that trend and have a great week to come. I miss you all!

XOXO,
Dina

Grammy's Night in the States. Quesadillas Night in the France.

Ok, so I am utterly bored on this boring Sunday. So what better time to write a blog, right? Probably wrong, but I'm doing it anyway. I am trying to come up with good stories as I type this intro. And so far nothing. So I am going to keep typing random nonsense until something comes to mind. Bears. They lost. Evangeline Lilly! STORY!

Those French Band Members sure now how to make a girl feel pretty.

So, as per usual, Sapna and I were the only ones getting our dance on at MaNolan's on a pretty dead Tuesday night. So there we were, dancing like it was our full time job. And since we figure we lend the entertainment for the band, we also figure that the band should be at our mercy. Thus, we make requests and expect them to play them for us. Usually it works out nicely. Sometimes an evil look has to be dealt, though. But anyway, I went up to the singer and asked him to play Oasis. To which he agreed. And then on the mic he goes...You sort of look like Kate from "Lost". I don't know if you take it as a compliment, but you do. To which Sapna goes "Yeah, it's definitely a compliment for her." And then singer says "OK good. So are you and Kate sisters?"
Me: Yeah. She's my older sister.
Singer: Really?
Me: Yes.
Singer: Haha. Well maybe you can bring her with you next time.
Me: Ok, that wasn't as smooth a compliment.
Singer: Um...Today is gonna be the day when they're gonna throw it back to you...

Money Money Money

So Thursday I started to teach my lesson on American money, with the intermittent English Pound thrown in there. And then I brought in the one American dollar I was able to save, which was like gold to the kids. That was until they had the smarts to ask me how much it was worth. And me and my sarcastic brilliance tell them 'compared to the euro? About a cent[ime].' So the teacher thinks this is funny. But now my students are severely led astray. I tried teaching them the correct amount, but I think it's still etched in their minds that the dollar was 1/100th of their euro. Needless to say, a lot of them probably booked their tickets to America already, hoping to take advantage of that exchange rate and buy their Justin Timberlake and 'Feefty Cents' albums there.

The Creepy Electricians

Ok, so granted I sleep in until crazy hours when I don't have work because A) I have nothing better to do B) I usually stay up super late C) I have amazing dreams here. So there was nothing more annoying to me than the stupid electricians right outside my door doing Heavens-knows-what, but seemingly with a chainsaw and a dying cow. Anyway, an hour later, there is a knock on the door. They are asking us to come in to see if some wires lead to our apartment or something. Alix and I just looked at each other and then they were like 'oh...no speak French?'. We said we did, we were just weirded out by random dudes coming into the apartment. Ok, we didn't say that. We actually said fine. But our body language displayed those former thoughts beautifully.

Anyway, they say thank you and leave. Two minutes later. Knock, knock. Sure, go ahead. Five minutes later. Uh huh, whatever. Go.

The next day.

I had my boy for tutoring. Knock on the door. They wanted to know if our TV was working. I said yes, the only thing that wasn't working was our kitchen light but more likely cause of the lightbulb. Then he starts talking to my boy that I am tutoring about Rugby. Who would have thought that the sweet 13 year old and the old electrician would have so much in common?

Anyway, after saying my bulb was out, he offered to change it for me, which was so exciting cause the last time I tried, I electrocuted the hell out of myself and spent the night tweezing metal shards out of my hand (I should not have admitted that in writing).
So after changing it, and me thanking him like 5 times over again, he goes 'you can repay me with a cup of coffee at noon tomorrow.' I laugh and say I only drink tea, but see you then, fully expecting to not be around then, if, on the off chance, he was serious.

So the next day I am heading out to work, and then he goes 'see you for tea'. I again laugh, and leave quickly. Then when I arrive home that night from work he was like 'you weren't there. I tried knocking and thought you were ignoring me.' Me: I told you I had work today..."

That night I double-bolted the doors for the first time in months :).

The Leak

So the electricians somehow sprung a leak somewhere, and so this other random guy knocks on my door and hands me a note. I read it, and looked miffed, so again 'No French?". Um, I do. My look is in regards to the fact that the water isn't working. And the fact that it won't be for the rest of the night. But, I had plans for that night. And they included showering and shaving. So, in a flash of brilliance, I run to the store and get those huge bottles of water to use for drinking/cooking/ghetto makeshift showering.

I am cracking up even writing this. Picture me with razor in hand, babywipes, and a giant bottle of water in my other hand. And then me pouring it all over myself. It definitely took me back to my Romanian roots. I now have a better appreciation of those 'when I was your age' stories. Obviously with the added inconvenience of women having to shave these days.

But in all fairness, it sucked at the time, but it makes a great story now. At least in my mind it does.

Might as well face it, I'm addicted to Carambars

So, for Valentine's Day coming up, I figured I could make a fun lesson of it. So I had my mom send me little Valentine's for all my French Fries, and I bought them candy to stick onto the Valentines (again, the leverage candy offers a teacher to get the kids to shut up is worth way more than the money spent on 6 bags of candy). But, I buy them this same crappy candy everytime. They are called Carambars, and they are just fruit flavored caramels, along with coke flavored and caramel.

But yesterday while I was preparing some of them, I was craving something sweet, so I unwrapped one, popped it in my mouth....and I frickin' loved it. Caramel flavor is sooo good. And now I fear I may end up eating all the candy before I have it to use as leverage. Thank goodness I don't like the other flavors. If anyone wants to have a little taste, let me know, and I can arrange it to give you a taste of my addiction.

Ils m'aiment :)

Last Thursday at one of my classes, one of the girls comes up to me and tells me so and so is in love with me. And then to make matters even worse for him, she walks in the room and points to him and goes 'See, it's him. He is in love with you.' So that was a little uncomfortable.

And then in my next class I am waiting for the other class to head into the room, and then one of the boys comes up and leans against the wall next to me, crosses his arms, and says the equivalent of "hey baby, how you doin'?"

So clearly, the only Frenchmen that show interest are the 8 year old ones. Not exactly what I was hoping for upon my arrival...It would be awesome if I was that Letorneau teacher, though.

The Dina's Day Parade

Some of my French Fries are going to be in a parade, because apparently the opening day of Carnivale always entails an opening parade where they introduce the king of Carnivale, and behind him marches students from all over Nice. So 4 of my classes are going to be in it, so I wanted to make sure I knew all the details so I could go see them.

However, as I was trying to ask one of my classes when the parade was starting and so on, the teacher comes up to me all excitedly and told me to bring in a white tee-shirt so she can make one for me incorporating the Rugby Parade theme (Rugby is a common theme in this e-mail apparently), and then I can accompany them. She got really happy saying how much the parents would love that. So I am not sure how I feel about this, yet. But it's next Friday, so I will let you know how it goes, if it goes. Again, I hope I really understood her properly, too. What a bummer to show up and have gotten it alll wrong :).

Ok, so I think that's all I've got for you.

There was definitely a story I was meaning to write about that I can't for the life of me remember right now. I'll be sure to make mention of it when I do remember it, however. But in the meantime I will happily OD on caramel carambars.

Keep sending the e-mails. Matt K...you're definitely in the lead for most entertaining and consistent e-mails. Keep up the good work. David, you're exempt this week for the phone call (but not for the music you were supposed to send). Mom, you're exempt, Megan, lifetime exemption status...and so on. I wouldn't mind e-mails from you all, though :)

I miss you all very much!!

XOXOXO
Dina

It's Blogalicious

So, there are a few stories I have to offer up to you this fine day in Nice. Some will make you laugh. Some will make you cry. Some will make you wish you were here. But they all will certainly make you miss me. Ok. Maybe not.

Que veut dire ‘You’re fat!’ en francais ?

So, if it wasn’t bad enough having a bartender tell me that I had a ‘pouch’ to make me think I was the fattest thing to come to Nice since Santa Claus, the other day I went to work wearing this cute white sweater I have. And I have been eating healthy foods as of late (with the HUGE exception of this weekend), but I was actually feeling pretty good. That was until my last class before lunch. So as I was leaving all the students were giving me their customary hugs and cheek kisses and saying ‘bon apetit’. And then one of the boys comes up to me and goes ‘So and so thinks you’re pregnant…are you pregnant?’. And at first I laugh because it just sounds so bizarre. But then I realized the horrifying truth behind this statement. My previously implied pouch looks like an incubator for a baby! I AM fat!

I then texted Sapna asking her if I am fat enough for my students to think I was preggers, and her response was ‘kids say the darndest things’. Which is what my mom reiterated. And everyone else, too. So, that justification got a little old. But I studied my naked belly that night, and realized that I do not, in fact, look pregnant. But just to be safe, I am never wearing that white sweater again.

The Super Obedient Dog

So just when you think you have seen next to everything there is to see, the other day I was walking down town and I look over and I see a dog…a dog who is walking himself. His owner was walking in front of him, but the dog was wearing a leash. But the part of the leash that the owner is supposed to hold is actually in the dogs mouth. It looked so funny and strange at the same time. I wish I had a picture. A picture of the dog taking himself out for a piss.

The Indian Adventure

So, as you may or may not know, my friend Sapna is Indian. And as you may or may not know, I like Sapna. And as you definitely know, I like food. So the next logical thing I would like would be an infusion of Sapna and food. Enter Taj Mahal, an Indian restaurant by the Port here in Nice. I have been craving Indian food, maybe since the day I met Sapna (which just sounds horribly wrong), but we finally decided to make a date out of it along with another assistant, Renee. So we went to this restaurant where Sapna schooled us on what would be good, along with some pointers from the incredibly patient waiters.

For starters I had this pastry thing, which was dough with meat inside that was minced up finely. It was really good, but just tasted a little like hummus to me, which I know is a ridiculous statement, but I am sticking to it.

Then, I went with the basmati and vegetables, which was also reallllly delicious, except for this one thing which I can’t even begin to describe. But it looked like a raison, and was steaming, so I figured it would be delicious. But I put it in my mouth, and it was hard and seeds poured out of it onto my tongue when I bit into it (which also may have cracked my teeth a little). I pretended to have a runny nose, but instead graciously put the spice (incognito raisin) into my tissue.

I was pretty full at this point, but I needed my Indian dessert fix. So I ordered this sampler of Indian desserts. Everything tasted so unique and not comparable to anything I have ever tried before, but sooooo delicious. There were 4 mini desserts, and each of them was soo different in consistency, flavor, and even temperature. But really amazing. Way cooler than the pistachio ice cream the other 2 got.

Finally, as we were walking out, Sapna asked the waiter if they had any blah blah blah, I couldn’t tell you what the word was if you paid me a million dollars. Just then did he realize that our friend was Indian. But he breaks out this jar of this stuff, which is an after dinner thing, which is supposed to help you with digestion. It looks like oats or something. So I took a little bit, and I seriously felt like I was eating a berry tree. There were little sticks in the mix, and I was chewing incessantly for a good 10 minutes. I would forego that aspect the next time.

But, all in all, it was quite fun and delicious. I would recommend the Basmati with vegetables to you all. And Indian desserts.

The After-Indian Delight

We were already feeling pretty good after our meal and wine, so we decided to go downtown since we were so close anyway. So the three of us went to MaNolan’s which turned out to be creep central that night. So we just chilled at a table with our wine. But then this old guy approaches us and tells us how Sapna is from North Africa. She is not. But he wasn’t having it. So we just lied to him and told him we didn’t speak French and were from England. Back to that later.

Then another guy approached us and we told him we were from Japan. He wasn’t buying it, and I was kicking myself for my horrible impromptu lie. But then this other guy approached us with his friend, so I told him an elaborate lie how we were just in Nice for the night after doing a short European tour. I told him I was just in Spain in Barcelona, and he asked me where I went so I didn’t know any places so I said ‘we were stuck in the hostel the whole time.’ Then I told him we were all from Canada, and that Renee was a dancer, and we were teachers. But we didn’t know any French. But then the creepy old man came back so I said ‘this is my French boyfriend’, and he played along making the old man actually leave us alone. And then he goes on to tell us all these places we have to see before we leave…he was basically being sooo nice, and here I was lying to him. When he left the table, we all were saying how badly we felt, and I was feeling badly on two levels for lying to him, and for suddenly being so good at it.

But anyway, a few minutes later we started dancing and he came over and started talking to us more, and I was like ‘ok…confession time. We live here.’ So he goes, “really?” So, then he goes ‘So you just got back from Barcelona?’ Me: “No.” Him: “But you’ve been traveling?” Me: “Uh, no.” Him: “But you just got here right, since you don’t speak any French.” Me: “Um, je parle un peu de français…”. Him: “Haha. Ok.’’ –5 minutes later--. Him : ‘You know I lived in Canada, too.’ Me: looking down at ground ‘Uh, yeah, about that…’. But we talked for the rest of the night, and he turned out to be super nice. In Nice. And forgiving about all the lies. He’s French, too, and was saying how he understands how girls would want to lie to the creepy Frenchmen.

My New French Friend: The Travel Guide

So, a couple days later my new French friend called. And we made plans for yesterday to go hiking. I warned him I would be holding him back, but he was all about the hiking. So he has a car, which was pretty awesome, because he took me all around the Riviera to these places I always wanted to see, but couldn’t easily get to. So he took me to this place called Ville Franche first. It was awesome. We climbed on this path that goes through the mountain. And you’re on top of this mountain but overlooking the Mediterranean. It’s pretty incredible.

Then he took me to this place called Èze, where there is a chateau that you can climb, so we did a quick climb up on top of that. It was not as cool, but still pretty nice.

Then he took me to this town that is right next to Monaco. It was around sunset time, and there is this place that translates to ‘Gold Horn’ because during sunset the light reflects off the sea, making the sea look…yes, you guessed it, gold. We climbed to the top of this little mountain, and if you look left you overlook all of Monaco. And then if you take a few steps to your right and look over the edge you overlook Nice. It was so beautiful. And the weather couldn’t be any more perfect for the beginning of February. Definitely something worth seeing. And the hike turned out to be a great time, and he was a great tour guide, being very knowledgeable on the history of the area. The conversation was also good, until he was like “What was the name of your friend…you know, the dancer…?”

The Superbowl…the French Way.

Sapna’s Bears were in the Superbowl yesterday, and they actually showed it on TV here in France. So I had a TV and she had to watch it, so I decided to make a party out of it. A party which turned out to be me and Sapna. We’re awesome. So she got here and before the game even started we had already finished the huge plate of bean dip she made, the plate of dip that I made, baguette pizza, and we were starting on the Salsa. Oh, and there were lots of cookies.

So the game started here at midnight (at which point I was already starting to get really tired), but it was hilarious. The pregame show here is completely different. Instead of giving information on the teams, and player bios, and stuff like that, they were explaining American Football to the French. They were talking about ‘Le touchdown’, ‘Le quarterback,’ and ‘le cointoss’. The best part was when they showed the field though, and then across the screen there was a big box that said 10 yards = 9.4 meters. Somehow that struck us as quite amusing. Anyway, with nasty beer in hand, we started watching the game. Then I took a nap the second period, only to wake to find Prince performing the Foo Fighters while wearing an Aunt Jemima head rag. That just didn’t seem right.

Then we watched the rest of the game, somewhat lifelessly, until 4:30 AM. But it was still a good time. My friend Didier called at 1:30 to ask if the party was still going on. It wasn’t heartening explaining that the party wasn’t a party, but more like a slumber party. Actually, just a slumber. But a fun one at that…

So…that’s about it. Which, was actually a lot. I miss you all very much, and hope you keep sending e-mails and stuff!!!

Hope you all had a good weekend and a food-filled Superbowl Sunday (so I can feel a little less guilty).

XOXOX
Dina

And to add to the weirdness of the previous post...

the minutes after sending out my e-mail....

(via Yahoo Messenger)

Mom: It's OK, I just got [your blog]
Mom: Yummy, cow's brain, I haven't had that in ages!!
Dina: ewwwwww
Dina: of course that is what you would say
Mom: No, not really, it is a delicatessen, used to have it occasionally in the old country, when we could get some
Dina: it's really cheap though
Dina: cheaper than the chicken is
Mom: You should try it! It's really good with scrambled eggs
Dina: mom, no

Mini Blog Alert

This is a realllllly quick note.



1) I have the worst runny nose in the history of Dina-dom. My roommate thought I was crying all night, when all it really was was me trying to outrun the runny nose.



2) I saw today, for the first time ever...and hopefully the last time ever...in the supermarket packaged cow brains. I looked up right above the unassuming chicken cutlets and WHAM. It looked like a biology class disection project in Aisle 5. I actually caught myself saying 'Eww' outloud. And this is me. The girl that used to love cutting up cow brains in AP bio. But there is something more charming about a brain that is bobbed out of a vat of fermaldahide versus one shrink-wrapped and next to the meat you are planning to buy...with a sticker saying 'great price' stuck on it. I do have to say though, if I were a cow and I saw my brains were being sold for 4.50 euros, i'd probably become a Mad Cow (hahah...I just made myself laugh). But seriously. I'd feel a little better at least being a Swiss Cow cause at least the exchange rate would be working in my favor and making me look a little better.



3) Sucker...there is no number 3.



Anyway...I wanted to get that cow's brain story out there before I repressed it without letting it surface.



I hope you are all well and I miss you very much.



David...you get weekly immunity and are on your way to much greater immunity when the album comes :). Jerry has weekly immunity, too. And mom and Megan still. :) And Dan. And Ian...I neglected to mention his extended immunity for the package he sent me.



Have a great night and I hope you feel better (the latter part was a message by me, for me).



XOXO

Dina

Yesterday marked Month 4. Today marks Blog 26. Tomorrow will mark...uhh...Monday.

Ok….so this is going to be a mini blogger thing because not really a whole lot of exciting has happened, however, there is something worth talking about, but that’s mostly all I’ve got to offer.

Sick

So, I am sick again. This comes at an interesting time though, because lately I have been healthy Dina. I ran a little bit last week, been doing much more walking, been taking vitamins daily, and cut out the chocolate and junk food and ate more fruits and vegetables these last couple of weeks than maybe my whole life combined. It’s true. AND, if you can imagine, last night was the only night I have been out allll week. And I’ve been ODing on Airborne. And nevertheless...Boom…enter sickness. And it’s always the same thing. Stupid sore throat with swollen tonsils and swollen uvula and what one might call the random late night snot nose. So, I’m thinking either France is the cause of said sickness (seeing as to how Alix and I rotate disease with Sapna thrown into the mix here and there), or I need a tonsillectomy STAT.

The Double Cous

Everyone, do yourself a favor and stock up your pantries with couscous (the wholewheat kind is fabulous). And then do yourself another favor…go ahead and prepare that couscous. And then, throw some broccoli, tomatoes, olives, and feta cheese in a pan/skillet/whatever floats your boat, and add some olive oil. And then when the couscous is all boiled up and ready to go, add it to the pan/skillet/boat floater with the veggies and cheese and mix it up. It’s an American’s escape to Greece for, well, however long it takes you to eat it. HACHOO. Being sick is lame.

Oh! Here’s another delicious food tip for those of you who are trying to eliminate the poundage off the waist like this girl (we can all thank the balding bartender at Ma Nolan’s for making me feel like a fatty after saying I have a ‘pouch’). I have to attribute this one to Alix…

Instead of consuming regular fruit flavored yogurt (which is very good for you, especially you ladies, but can actually pack some calories), you take some plain yogurt and just add a tablespoon of any type of jelly you want. It actually tastes better to me than fruit yogurt, and, recently I have been buying fresh strawberries and bananas and slicing them up and throwing them in there, too. Try it. You won’t be sorry. And neither will your v-v’s, ladies .

Alluding to ‘The Office’…again

Just watch it. I’ve been reliving the second season again. And I am going to marry Jim Halpert. So what if he’s not real? And so what if fake Jim doesn’t even know I am alive? You watch. One day I am going to be Mrs. Fake Jim Halpert.

Yay! I’m loved! By French Fries.

So there is this little girl that is tiny in one of my classes. But I think this is adorable, and am hoping you will agree. So every time she enters the room when we have English she runs up to me and gives me a hug. However, she is so tiny that she ends up hugging my thigh, and in her little girl voice she always says “Dina….je t’adore.” Yeah. I’m the shiznit.

More Monaco-ian goodness

Last night we decided it was time for a change of pace, so Sapna, Angelique, and I ventured into Monaco. I purposely didn’t go out Friday so I could reserve my strength for yesterday, and get my long-overdue dance on.

Angelique had never been, and as you know Sapna and I have many an occasion, so we were amped to show her a good time. Welllll…she barely caught the train, but we all made it there and we wanted to try a new bar to start our night before we hit the club, because drinks are insanely expensive at the clubs there. So Sapna and Angelique had heard a lot about this bar called ‘Stars and Bars’, so after about a 30 minute trek (for some reason Angelique thought it wise to break in her new boots on her trip to Monaco) we finally got there. The ambiance was pretty good with live music, a big bar, a mini dance floor, and cool lights, but it was too clubby for me. You have to keep your bars as bars and your clubs as clubs. At least that’s the case in my humble opinion.

So anyway, the three of us decide to start the dancing (as per usual…we are the only ones dancing), and then one of the bouncers comes up to me and says something in French, which took me three tries to understand (yeah, the French is coming along lovely, thanks), but next thing I know, he is hoisting me up on the reception area bar thing. It’s hard to describe, but you know when you go to a restaurant and you have to go to the area to ask for a table or inquire about your reservations…now imagine a high bar-like barrier around that, and that’s where I was dancing. Next to me, Sapna is quickly thrown up there, too. And quite literally, thrown. And then Angelique follows suit. And as we are dancing, the bartenders are bringing us over free drinks for offering up the dancing entertainment. It was all fun until this guy gets up there, too, and starts pushing us and stuff. After almost elbowing him off the ledge, I decided for the sake of not starting a ‘Stars and Bars’ brawl for accidentally making a guy fall to his death, to just head down to normalcy and dance on zee floor. But it was a really good time.

So after that, we decided to also try a new club. Normally we always go to Karement, but this time we decided to hit up Jimmy z. (No, they can’t afford a light in the shape of a comma and the s was probably all sold out, making them resort to the z…or here’s hoping, at least.) But anyway, we get there after spending euro-age on a taxi, and then the bouncer asks us if we have a reservation. Naturally, we did not, because who the hell makes reservations to go to a club? So in our annoyed state, we decided to go to Karement again.

After suffering with tired feet and bladders which were probably 10 times the normal size, we finally get to Karement. But alas, ‘Do you have reservations?’. We never, ever, ever, needed reservations there. Never. That place isn’t even good enough for reservations. But lo and behold, apparently places like that get packed in the end of January (nobody is around the Mediterranean in January!) So in a state of even greater annoyance, and panic for our ever expanding bladders, we decided to go to McCarthy’s…the bar we usually always go to before Karement.

After getting to McCarthy’s and making a B-line to les toilettes, we opted to get some food there. They only had mini pizzas, which was perfectly ok, and I have to say I would never have imagined sitting at a bar at 3 am eating pizza in Monaco. But, it was delicious, and hit the spot quite nicely.

However, at that point Angelique was too tired to move from her seat, and Sapna was a little sad because that place brought up memories of someone she didn’t really want memories of at the moment (sorry to dish your life, Sapna, if you ever read this). But I still wanted to dance. So Sapna and I just started dancing a little in the corner. However, the music was subpar, so I wanted to ask the bartender/manager if he had anything good on his laptop (think laptop DJ).

I had become friends previously with one of the bartenders there, since we frequented the place so much, and so one of the managers also recognized me through that connaissance, so he told me to go behind the bar and take a look at what he had on his computer. It felt weird, but I was more than happy to oblige. So behind the bar I go, and choose a song (a little ‘Santeria’ by Sublime), but I look over and Angelique is fast asleep (who does that?!) and Sapna was in the bathroom. So next thing I know, I am behind the bar and the managers and my bartender friend are sitting at the bar, and one of the managers goes ‘Dina, make me a shot.” Obviously, I thought they were being smartasses, but I respond with ‘What can I get you?’ And then next thing I know, they are pointing to where everything is from afar and I am making them shots . So they took their shots, and then a patron comes to the bar, but the managers and Jim are still just sitting there, and they just reply ‘go on, get him what he wants’. So again, with gestures and explanations, there I am making a demi-pêche (do they exist in the US…it’s a shot of peach syrup with beer?)

So, I became the honorary laptop DJ and bartender for the rest of the night (which was only like 45 minutes), and in exchange they said I can make whatever drinks I want for myself . It was pretty awesome, though. I even met a couple of cool patrons from Monaco, and got to practice some French. And I made the Irish manager teach me some Irish words, and the Italian manager got to hear me butcher some Italian. And, by the end, I was pouring some sexy beers with the perfect amount of foam on them.

At that point, however, Angelique was awaking from her slumber, and Sapna was getting ready to head out, too, so we went to the train station and caught the 5:15 train home. After what seemed like the longest and coldest walk ever, I was in bed and heading to dreamland. Unfortunately, for some weird reason, I woke up 3 hours later, and haven’t been to sleep since. SOOOOOO, if this e-mail blog thing is really awful, and the jokes are just as far from funny as can be…it’s because I’m working here on 3 hours of sleep and sickness.

But…je t’adore.

I hope you all had/continue having a lovely weekend, and feel free to e-mail me or call me or send me shiny things. Or you can even send yourself. (Dan H., Drew, Steve-o, Matt K., mom and Sandy are off the hook this week for their lovely e-mails and packages. And Megan has lifetime immunity because she visited.)


I miss you all very much!
XOXOX
Dina

It's the PMVB....Post Megan's Visit Blog...

My blog writing has taken a turn for the worse as has my excitement level here in Nice. I really can’t think of much to indulge my eager readers with (and I know you are all so very eager :p). It’s pretty much the same ol’, same ol’…but now my nights are more often filled with movies and crossword puzzles (thanks for the book of crossword puzzles, mom. It’s doing wonders for my social life!).

Let’s see…

I went back to work the beginning of last week. The kids are still the same, although I think they mellowed out a little bit since before the break. Which was quite a welcomed change. I started this time around by teaching them about English Speaking Countries. It was pretty awesome for me because I know a lot of people here who are from Canada , Ireland , Scotland , England , and even New Zealand , and so I made some of them sit with me and compile a list of words that are different in the different countries. I will share some with you here. These are equivalents in England and America (this is how you know my blogs are going down the crapper…)

Girls = birds
Sweater = jumper
Red head = ginger
Underwear = pants
Pants = trousers
Sneakers = trainers
Bathing Suit = swimming costume
Winter hat = toque (this is Canadian)

So that lesson was brought to you by the letter H and the number 5.

I downloaded some National Anthems for them, too, from the different English Speaking Countries, and I have to say… South Africa ’s national anthem is pretty awesome. It’s got a groovy back beat to it, and it makes me soooo want to go back to visit!

I also made a worksheet for them with flags that they would have to color in. And then I made them vote on their favorite flag (choices were: UK , England , Scotland , Ireland , America , South Africa , Jamaica , India , Australia , and Canada ). Amazingly, the Canadian flag was a multiple time winner. Who would think that the maple leaf could have such an impact on little Frenchies J. However, in talking to my Canadian friend here, we realized neither of us knew the origins of the colors on our respective flags. So I promised him research, and was quite disappointed to learn that in both cases, the colors were just chosen without specific means. Just *poof* these are our colors. I don’t like it.

Furthermore, I had previously written my first French teacher when I first arrived, to see if she would be interested in doing a sort of correspondence between her students and mine. She was very receptive to the idea, and she created a club that meets at lunch, and they compiled a bunch of letters, newspapers, postcards, and pictures of themselves and sent it to me about a month ago. I took the opportunity to present their things at the last lessons, and I had them respond by writing letters of their own back. Which makes for further blog material. One moment please…

Ok…so there was a verbal battle between two letters that my students wrote. Clearly these will not be forwarded to the American kiddies…we’ll call them the Freedom Fries, but I offer you the content of said letters:

Hello!

My name is A…. or 50 Cent.
What’s your name?
I am from Lebanon .
How old are you?
I am 10 years old.
How are you?
C… est une tête du vache. (C... is a cow’s head)
J’adore le football américain et le bascket. (I love football and basketball)

Yeah, so that was just an insult that was slipped in on the sly. And here is the responding letter…

Hello!
My name is C….
I am 10 years old.
How are you?
How old are you?
A…. est ugly. (A... is ugly)
A… est laid. (A... is ugly)
A... est trop bête, ugly, laid, et est un caca et une tête de vache (meeuuhh) ! HaHaHaHa et il est un KINDER. (A... is very stupid, ugly, ugly, and is a caca and a cow’s head (moooo) ! Hahahaha and is a KINDER [I have to look this one up in the dictionary and get back to you on this one, folks.]).

And that was the letter battle of the day. It was like the “8 Mile” of the French Primary School world. Although I guess it would be like “20 Kilometers”. Woo! Is this thing on [taps mic]?!

The only other weird thing going on at work is that lots of my little French fry girls have been asking me if I am married. And act surprised when I act surprised. I guess I am already looking spinsteresque to them.

Other than work, the going out is the same…Wayne’s, Thor’s, and Ma Nolan’s still remain our places of dancing and ingesting zee alkie. You know it’s bad when you know everyone’s name at the bars. But unfortunately, there aren’t that many cool places here.

Anyway, I think that’s all I got for you for now. You got off easy this time. I, however, did not, seeing as to how I am watching some really weird murder mystery movie with that guy from that show. Yes you think about it. I can’t think of the name of the show, but it had the down syndromed son named Corky. Oh, and a quick side note…we have an Italian channel, and they have “Let’s Make A Deal!” on that channel all the time, and the Italian version is the bomb diggity. It’s not over until the contestant cries. Whether be them happy tears, sad tears, or terribly stressed tears. And the host…well, he dances. Yes. DANCES. But anyway…that’s all there is.

I miss you all very much!!
XOXO
Dina

And P.S. .. Um, bone to pick time…where are my e-mails? Ian, Megan, Lianna, Mom, and Jerry are off the hook. You, too, can be off the hook if you send me e-mails, send me a package, come visit me, or merely put money in my bank account. Think about it…

P.P.S….some promised pictures from Megan’s visit are here now…Oh no. Star Trek just started in French. I must end this so I can change the channel.

P.P.P.S…I just saw a commercial where a woman got beaten by her husband and she’s crying on the floor and her 5 year old son goes over and looks down at her and then kicks her in the ribs. “A man who beats his wife teaches his children the same thing.” The French know how to do commercials!

All About Megan's Crazy Visit...If You Dare...

So, I know it’s been awhile since the last update, but with very good reason. Megan came to visit me from the 27th of December and stayed until the 4th of January. But you must embrace yourselves, because here I am including the nine day adventures of Megan and Dina in Europe.

First, let me start out by saying I hope that everyone had a wonderful New Year’s celebration, and may it bring you all health, wealth, and happiness. Ok, good…that’s out of the way. I think the easiest way to let you in on our adventures will be a day by day play by play. I’m a frickin’ poet.

Day 1: Megan Arrives

This was just the let’s reunite and catch up day. Megan and I went downtown to have some lunch and then we pretty much just layed low for the rest of the day and night. It was really great, because although we hadn’t seen each other in months, we were able to just pick up where we left off…just in France. We watched Bridget Jones that night, too, and for the first time ever, I ordered pizza for delivery. It was supbar, but still exciting nevertheless.

Day 2: Leave for Zurich

I don’t really recall if much was accomplished before we left for Zurich on Thursday afternoon. The trip started off on the wrong foot though because the bus driver at the stop didn’t want to stop for us because we were too slow walking to the bus (we had a big ass suitcase and there was an old lady with a cane…how fast could he expect us to run?). But I hit the bus with my hand to tell him to stop (an aggressive move, yes, but deemed necessary in the situation). But then I got on the bus and he starts yelling at me. And then I started yelling at him. So I got in my first French verbal battle. It was quite marvelous and I had the old lady on my side. And Megan was giving me English verbal encouragement.

Anyway, we arrive to the hotel in Zurich at around 8:30, after only a 50 minute flight. (We were the row behind Business class on the plane, and it was quite sad cause I went to use the bathroom in the front of the plane, and I got kicked out and sent to the back of the plane…My ass wasn’t good enough for business class’s toilet seat). So back to the hotel, we got there and we decided to head out on a night on the town. The people in the hotel led us to Old Zurich, which was in walking distance, and offered many restaurants and bars and all that jazz. So as we were looking at a map in the middle of the street, this guy stops and asks if we need help. So we tell him we are looking for a bar or club or something to do, and then he tells us we should join him at a bar towards which he was headed.

So we go to the first bar, and get a couple drinks and make our friend, Oliver, teach us some German. We also got to meet some pretty awesome other people, namely an awesome bartender from Maine who moved there to be with her boyfriend. In my buzzed state though, I think I offended her because I think I implied how silly it was to move somewhere for a man. I’m not very tactful when I have wine. But she held no grudge after the nice tip I left her.

After that bar shut down we went to the one place that was open, which turned out to be a piano bar. And that’s where the alcohol began to flow freely. We made friends with the bartender there, as well, and he kept making sure that our wine glasses were never empty. And you can’t turn down free wine in super expensive Zurich. So Megan and I kept on the wine, and then some guy (who looked like Frasier) was digging our new friend Oliver, so he bought us all shots of tequila. So Megan and I were dancing around the piano while the piano player (who happened to be from NY and happened to tell me he loves pisces women) dedicated Bon Jovi songs to us. It was a great time…we stayed and danced until the place closed .

Day 3: Lazy in Zurich

Megan and I were reallllly beat from our previous night out, so we made it a lazy day. I opted to be the one to get the food, so I walked back to Old Zurich and got us some McDonald’s. In Zurich, it costs about 15 francs for 2 Happy Meals. It’s expensive. Anyway, I gather my food and make the trek back, seeing Zurich a total of 45 minutes in the daytime. Megan and I ate and then stayed in bed another good 5 hours. We were quite hungry at that point, so we gathered all our strength and courage and went back downtown to a restaurant called the “Spaghetti Factory”. It was really delicious, but that was all the strength we could muster for that day, so we made it back to the hotel and just rested the rest of the evening.

Day 4: Zoo in Zurich

We were committed to making it outside today. We both decided to go to the Zoo, so we took a bus and headed towards the animals. The weather started out being really nice, but got progressively colder. But that didn’t stop us from checking out some of the awesome animals. We got there kind of late though, so I was sorely disappointed when the goats were taken out of the petting zoo area to get fed. It ruined my zoo experience a little, cause that’s what I most look forward to. Yes, I like playing with the goats. We did get to see camels, elephants, elk, llamas, all sorts of fish, bats, lizards, and I am sure more that I can’t think of right now. Oh yeah…Penguins! I like penguins.

So anyway, as the zoo closed we headed back downtown and opted to get some Fondue that night. We found this really nice little restaurant where we had amazing cheese fondue. We ate it as if we hadn’t eaten in years. I think we surprised the waitress with our rapid eating pace, because there were people that sat down before us who weren’t even close to being finished, and yet there we were asking for our check. It was so delicious though.

After that, Megan and I decided to go out again, but this time sans alcohol. We found this place with a dance floor. Of course we were the only ones on the dance floor, but had a really great time just being sober idiots instead of drunk ones. Then we began to head home when, sure enough, we ran into our friend Oliver. It was good to see him, and together we recapped the events of the previous night. We then walked the rest of the way back with him and parted with our Swiss friend. Bye-bye Swiss friend! And that was that.

Day 5: New Year’s Eve

We headed to the airport to fly back to Nice with the intention of going to Monaco that night. After the flight and the walk back home, however, we realized that going to Monaco wasn’t necessarily the best idea seeing as to how tired we were. So instead, we made our way downtown, and went to Wayne’s where we danced a little, and then these French guys shared their bottle of wine with us, and Megan practiced her Spanish with the guy, which was quite impressive seeing as to how she was a) buzzed and b) hadn’t taken Spanish since her third year of high school.

We toasted at midnight, and decided, like every year before, that New Year’s sort of sucks and is a big disappointment, so we took our disappointed bums and went home and to bed. We were probably the only ones in bed by 1:30.

Day 6: New Year’s Day

Today we headed downtown to get some unique type lunch, but all the restaurants were closed or not appealing, so we ended up getting some good old Chinese food. And by good, I mean subpar, but it did the trick nevertheless.

After Chinese we went to the fair they had downtown for the holidays. There wasn’t much to do there but we got some amazing churros and we rode the big ferris wheel, which is a big deal for me, since I am scared of ferris wheels. It lended us an amazing view of the city though, and it was a really awesome day out, too, which made it even better. After our ferris wheel ride, we headed home and just took it easy for the rest of the night.

Day 7: Our busy day

This was a good and proactive day for us. We headed downtown but stopped along the way to go shopping. We got some cute outfits and then we decided to stop at the mall to look for more clothes, but then ate lunch there instead. After lunch we continued to venture downtown where we went and got my nose repierced. It was the quickest thing in the world. I was in and out in like 5 minutes.

We then headed home and bought some groceries to make what would be the best tacos ever. They were delicious. Some new learned advice…ground beef that is meant to use to make a Bolognese sauce works really well in tacos. And so does the French salsa. And crème fraiche.

After tacos, Megan and I headed downtown and went to the Casino Ruhl, which I had never been to, but Megan and I have a slight gambling problem, so what better way to handle it then to share the experience together. It was so underwhelming though. From the outside it looks huge, but on the inside it’s sort of a small with not many machines or tables. We both lost very quickly, so we left soon after and headed to the bars downtown to show Megan my usual hangout spots . We met up with Sapna and just got our dance on everywhere and every which way.

We then made it home and got some well-deserved sleep.

Day 8: Hibachi Heaven

This was another semi-decent day for us. Well, the night was productive, at least. During the day we just chilled and watched movies and what not, but then that night we decided that we would get dressed up and head downtown for a nice fancy dinner. After making it downtown we wandered all around looking for something different and delicious, but nothing really struck us as such. We then decided we could really go for some Thai food, but nothing. So I went into one of the bars I usually go to and asked one of the bartenders if he knew of any Thai places and he steered us to this place called “Samurai” which was a Hibachi restaurant.

Somehow we managed to find it and we were seated across from a mini birthday party for some teenage guy, with his parents sitting next to us. It was like a four course meal, and was really delicious, but Megan and I began to wreak havoc when the main meal came with rice, and we couldn’t quite figure out how to eat the rice with our chopsticks. This struck me as insanely funny, because our effort and dedication was mind boggling. We were even sharing techniques at one point. So I started laughing hysterically, and since we were in close quarters with the other family, it was a little awkward because they were giving us disapproving looks. But those disapproving looks soon turned to laughter, too, because you can’t not laugh when two girls are cracking up with rice all over everything.

After the delicious meal, we made our way to one of the bars to get our dance on. We were dancing Megan and Dina style (aka like crazy idiots) and since nobody else was dancing, we got all sorts of attention. The DJ who normally never says boo to me offered to buy us drinks (but was more than pleased when we said we weren’t gonna drink that night…cheap bastard), and he also took pictures of us dancing for the bar newsletter. It was quite fun, and a really great night to end her trip.

Day 9: Farewell, My Love

This day we woke up early and headed to the airport. Not much to say except this was a pooey day. I was grumpy and miserable for the rest of the day…and got super homesick. It’s bittersweet having someone visit, I suppose. It was definitely great to see her, but her leaving made me realize how much I miss from home. But I guess I only have 6 more months to go, and the first 3 seemed to fly by.


Anyway, now I am back to work and getting back into the swing of things. I’m also already thinking to another trip I can take somewhere, so if any wants to meet me anywhere (wink, wink), I’m game .

Happy New Year, All! I hope it’s starting out well for everyone.

Miss you very much!
XOXOX
Dina

P.S. Megger’s has all the photos from the trip, but as soon as I get my hands on them, I will be sure to send some your way

Happy Holidays again from Nice!

I just wanted to write to say that I hope everyone had a great Chanukah or a fantastic Christmas!! I was lucky enough to have my coordinating professor invite me to her place for both Christmas Eve, and then Christmas. I was sort of not looking forward to the evening at first, since it was catering to her older French family, but it turned out to be a really good time, and I think it would be fair to say it ended up being two days of the best food I may have ever had, and hands down the best in France. BUT, I have to mention how much the French eat!! I guess this was my first typical many course French meal with wine and champagne coming out of the rear. Just to give you an idea of how much it is, I included the menu from both the Xmas Eve dinner and the Xmas lunch....

Christmas Eve

Champagne with Olives
Red Wine
Soup with scallops and mozzarella
Spinach with hard boiled eggs
Quiche with onions and turkey
Cheese with Salad
Tea
Apple Pie
Minced Meat Pies

Christmas

Champagne
Red Wine
Smoked Salmon with herbs
Oysters
Puff Pastries with Escargot
Duck with Orange Sauce, roasted potatoes, roasted artichokes, sautéed mushrooms
Cheese with Salad
Tea
Bouche de Noel (Chocolate mousse cake)
Christmas Pudding
Minced Meat Pies
Chocolate

I hope you all had a wonderful holiday thus far, and will continue the trend by having a wonderful happy and healthy New Year! I miss you all!!!!

XOXOX,
Dina

P.S. 1 Day until Megan comes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh Snap! It's a new blog!

Hello everybody! I hope this e-mail finds you all doing well. I know it’s been awhile since I last sent an e-mail! For that I apologize (namely to Mom and Jerry). I decided to break this e-mail down into anecdotal stories, and separate them like that. I hope you enjoy!

Oh Sheet

So there is this little innocent looking girl in one of my classes (who is really a big brat, that’s neither here nor there) but she is really small, wears braided pigtails and has one of those annoyingly cute smiles. So you can imagine my surprise when she dropped her pencil and loudly exclaimed “Oh Sheet!” And then she asked me what it meant. After the damage was already done. But I told her it’s a word we don’t say in my class, which got all the other students morbidly curious, and then just made the brat girl say it more frequently. I don’t understand how they can’t retain the words “thank you” in their brains, but the curses-they’ve already got that down before I even get to them. Weird. (I, for one, didn’t learn dirty French words until college when I had to read Ancient Erotic Fables, but then again, that’s neither here nor there. Just a little traumatizing.)

London Taxi

(This one only makes sense if you know that I went to London again for the weekend.) So what’s the most politically correct thing you can conjure up in your imagination? While this may be up there, I felt I was rocking the p.c. boat pretty hard on my carbide to the airport in London. So picture it…London 2006. 4:55 am. Dina enters cab, driver closes door for her. Driver enters cab, seemingly on the wrong side (England’s all backwards). Dina sympathizes with cab driver about being up at the buttcrack of dawn. Driver drives excessively fast. Dina makes conversation to calm her nerves. Driver asks if Dina celebrates Christmas. Dina divulges that she celebrates Chanukah instead. Driver acts surprised. Dina asks if he does. Driver says he is working on Christmas but charging double. Dina, like a good Jews from. He says he lived in Germany for 15 years. Dina: So you’re German? Driver: No, I’m originally from Pakistan. Dina thinks: Wow! A German-ish Pakistani! Good thing I told him I was a Jew! Driver probably thinks: But her nose is so small!

So anyway, it was a pleasant ride. Dina learned about Driver and Driver learned about Dina. It was like “Driving Miss Jew-sy”. And we were clearly poster children for religious tolerance and world peace.

The Haircut

About 2 weeks ago, I got my haircut here, cause I figured I wanted a change, and hairdye is getting expensive, and I always managed to get the wrong kind here, too. So, Sapna had already gotten a haircut here, which she ended up hating solely for the fact that she had partial highlights (only on the top of her head) so it looked like she had a lot of colors going on. So she wanted to get her whole head dyed, so we decided to make a group effort out of it. We didn’t want to spend a lot of money, so Sapna did some research, and as it turns out, in France they charge you for the cut, for conditioner, and for “le brushing” which is them basically blowdrying your hair and styling it as they see fit. So at one place Sapna asked if she could get the highlights and forego ‘le brushing’, cause she could just do that herself at home. The lady she was asking practically gasped at this request, saying “you want us to let you leave the salon with wet hair?! Our manager will not allow it!” As if it would be a sin to be seen leaving their establishment without perfectly styled hair.

But, nevertheless, Sapna and I ended up at this reasonable place and the lady styled my hair so well. It was brilliantly straight and it looked good. The problem was, it was pouring outside, so the minute I left the salon, my hair went from fab to curly mess in 2.5 seconds. So much for “le brushing.”

Sapna’s Birthday

Here is some proper Tequila etiquette. Especially when the Tequila is grocery store unknown brand ‘silver’ Tequila.

Don’t take Tequila shots and then try to light 24 candles on a birthday cake. Someone will get burned. And it will seem funny.

Don’t take Tequila shots and then try to dance in a busy bar. You will fall.

Don’t take Tequila shots and then ask an estranged friend why he never talks to you. People may think Tequila lessens emotional pain. It does not.

Don’t take Tequila shots and then speak French. Unless you’re me. Then you’re French somehow gets better.

Don’t take Tequila shots before running into Sapna’s French roommate. It will only give him fuel to continue calling you a “veree strange geerl”.

Don’t take Tequila shots on Sapna’s birthday. Ever.

Chanukah Chavoc

So apparently I wreaked havoc in my school last Thursday because I talked about Chanukah in my classes.

First of all, when I talked about Chanukah in one of my first and youngest classes, one of the cutest little girls raised her hand and told me that she was Jewish and that her brother had a piece of his penis cut off. She included little hand movements to better illustrate and explain her point. It was adorable, yet slightly horrifying. And then, in another class a couple of boys came up to me and asked me if moyels (circumcisioners…yeah I made this word up) existed in America. Kids and their weird curiosities.

So anyway, about discussing Chanukah, I figured I would be careful, and asked the director of each school I work in and my supervisor if it would be appropriate to talk about Chanukah with my French Fries. They all said it would be fine, as long as I didn’t delve into religion and all that stuff, to which I agreed. So I downloaded a Chanukah Song and I made up a sheet with the words to the song and some pictures they could color of a dreidel, a menorah, presents, candles, and chocolate money. But, during my third class in my first school, the director walks in really quickly and tells the children to not glue the sheet into their notebooks. Then she tells me that what I am teaching is way too religious. She said the Menorah is equivalent to the cross, which is not true. The menorah is equivalent to the Christmas Tree (in front of which we were having this discussion). Then she told me my song was way too religious, but she can’t speak English, so she couldn’t even know what the song meant. But then she told me that she understands, because she, too, is a Jew, but she celebrates Christmas for her children. Which, in my rationality, isn’t really a Jewish holiday.

But it was all good, because in the second school I ran it by the director again to make sure it was ok with him, and the teachers and students were very receptive and thanked me for teaching them new information. So take that other school!

So, I’m thinking this is all I have to offer to you for now. Only one more class tomorrow until my holiday break which means Megan is coming in a week, which means we are going to Switzerland soon. I am missing you all, especially with the holiday season here in Nice, which equates to roommate Xmas tunes, too many people on the streets, and heightened cravings for chocolate and romance.

I do hope you are all doing well, and staying sane. Keep sending the e-mails…I LOVE receiving them! And if I don’t get to write another e-mail before Christmas, I wish you all a very Merry Xmas. Be safe, stay warm, and eat lots of food. Especially stuffing. Mmmm.

And just in (super) case, HAPPY NEW YEAR’S!! Come join me and Megan in Monaco, if you dare.

XOXOX,
Dina

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year!

Hello everybody! I hope everyone is doing well, and getting ready for the holidays. I miss the hustle and bustle of the holiday season. Here it’s definitely more crowded, and places are actually open on Sunday, but it’s still not the same. However, there is a sweet little Christmas Market in downtown Nice. They set up a skating rink and a ferris wheel, and there are a bunch of different little covered kiosks with vendors selling all sorts of things as well as games and stuff for the kiddies. It looks pretty lively and it definitely jazzes up the normally ugly and construction-filled landscape.

The weather here is also getting temperamental. Last night may have been the coldest I have been in Nice. But yesterday during the day I had to take off my jacket while walking around cause I was so hot. It’s sort of nuts, in fact.

So I just saw another cockroach. In my room. Which is going to make it sort of rough going to sleep tonight. So now instead of just ruining my eating experience by imagining cockroaches laying eggs inside every box of cereal I own, I now have to picture them crawling all over my face in the middle of the night. But I couldn’t even take it out on said cockroach. Although I did yell at it and called it stupid when I tried to trap it to put it outside. I hate this not being able to kill bugs thing I am infected with.

Speaking of infections….I visited my first doctor here in Nice. I have been feeling sort of crappy for about a month now, and I figured at this point I probably needed antibiotics since I tried all other over the counter options already. She was really pleasant, and it was pretty much the same thing as I’m used to, except she actually spent more than 3 minutes with me, and she only charged me 20 euros. But she gave me a prescription (which is actually just a piece of paper with her name on it and the meds I need) for an antibiotic as well as an herbal supplement with Echinacea in it. It is the most vile thing in the world. The pharmacy had to prepare it for me (and it cost a whopping 60 euros!) but it is this brown and thick goo, and it tastes like what I would imagine liquefied tree bark would taste like. But, on the flip side, I am already feeling better.

There are a couple stories I have been meaning to send you. So here goes.

The Market Misidentification
So I was in the local grocery store here picking up a few things, namely chicken for dinner, and so I was in the cold food aisle with a basket in hand. Next thing I know, this guy comes up to me and mumbles something about the chicken, and then he takes cheese that he had in his hand and he throws it into my basket. So, here I am, realllly confused and unsure what to say or do. I thought he was being too lazy to put it back or something and wanted me to. Frankly, I had no idea. But then he looks at me again, and this time a really confused look appears on his face. And then he goes “Oh, you’re not my wife!” and then he embarrassedly removed his cheese and proceeded to move by his wife’s side, who was now also looking suspiciously at me.

He did mumble an apology before leaving, but I think I made him feel worse about the situation because I could not hold back my laughter. And there was a lot of laughter to get out of my system. So somehow I then became the weird one looking at chicken and laughing loudly to myself. Oh well.

The School Stories
There are just two stories I can think of from work that I wanted to mention. One was about my phone number. So we were doing numbers, and I thought a good exercise would be to do a number dictation with them, where I just tell them a number and then they write it down. But then I thought it would be cooler to make it more ‘real world’ relatable, so I told them my phone number as practice. But the French Fries thought that it was the most classified information in the world that I was offering to them. They got super excited and scrambled to write it down, and then a handful of them proceeded to write down their phone numbers and give it to me. But they really expected me to call them! I was settling down for lunch after one of the classes and they saw me, so a couple of my students were like “Are you going to call us tonight?” What do you say to that? I went with the safe “maybe.” It was weirdly cute, and weirdly freaktastic at the same time.

Then the other day I started teaching them clothing. And so I packed a backpack with some of my clothing, and told them I was going on a camping trip and let’s look at what I brought. So I pulled out my shoes, which was funny for them for whatever reason, and then my socks, which were hilarious for them. But then in one class I pulled out a skirt that has a little belt attached to it. And then they were looking at it stupefied asking me what it was. And then one of the boys yelled out “Isn’t that what you wear to do cooking in?” So to them skirt equates cooking. HAHA. It doesn’t get more chauvinistic than that, huh? But I found this extremely funny for some reason, and could not stop laughing. Their normal teacher then started laughing because I was laughing, and then that got the French Fries laughing, too. So my classroom turned into a mess of laughter. So at that point my lesson was shot to hell, but I think it was worthwhile.

Those are the only stories I can think of right now. Just winding down over here, getting ready for my holiday vacation. Their vacation here starts on the 23rd and doesn’t end until the 8th of January. The kids here never seem to go to school it appears. And then they have a Mardi Gras break from February to March.  I’m looking forward to that one!

Anyway, that’s all I got for now. I am getting tired. I think that Echinacea goop is getting to my head. I hope you are all doing well!! I miss you all so very much! And by the way, I now have internet at my apartment, which doesn’t work so well right now, but hopefully the situation will be rectified and then I can bless you all with more e-mails. Woohoo!

Miss you!!
XOXOX
Dina

P.S. HAPPY BIRTHDAY ‘OLD MAN’ DREW!!!!!