Blog: The Paris Edition

OK, so once again I have been the worst at keeping you all updated. My apologies. I have little motivation to do anything these days but be a beach bum, read trashy novels, watch DVDs, and go shopping. And of course, the occasional late night excursion with dancing included.

I am not even sure what I made mention of before this blog, but I am sure I didn’t speak at all of Paris, so we’ll make this a Paris-specific blog.

Going to Paree…
So, I forced myself to pack lightly, with the added inconvenience of 3 bananas, a huge water, and an extra pair of cute going out shoes, just in case, and to the train station I headed. My timing was excellent, because as I arrived at the station and purchased some Fig Newton wannabes for the journey, the train was also arriving. So I boarded the train and was quite happy to find that my row (all two seats) was all to myself. However across from me this lady had a dog that was an attention/head rub seeker that was so cute he earned lots of my attentions. The train was about 2.5 hours to Marseilles, where I had to get off and board another train headed to Paris. It was easy and convenient enough, but this time I was not so lucky in getting my own row…

The Not-so-subtle hint
So on the way from Marseilles to Paris, this lady shows up in the middle of the ride, claiming her seat is the one next to mine. Which was fine. Then about 20 minutes later as I am reading my book, she turns to me and offers me a mint. I thank her and say she is very nice for offering, but I really didn’t want a mint. So she insisted a second time. “No, thanks, I’m not in the mood.” But lady wasn’t having it. “Take one!” she kept repeating, to which I would politely refuse. That was until she literally took my palm and placed mints in it. After watching so much Prison Break I was half convinced I was just someone who needed to be knocked off via poison-laced orange mints on the train to Paris. That is until later when she took out the gum. I was still alive at this point (which caused my previous theory to lose some credibility), but this time she didn’t even offer the gum. She just literally threw it onto my lap. By this point, I was realizing I was just flattering myself with thoughts of being important enough to be assassinated. It was all just a matter of me having some halitosis (read: funky-ass breath). So I smiled, making sure to breath through my nose until the gum was securely placed into my mouth. And that was the adventure of my journey.

The First Night
I arrived in Paris, and then took the metro to my cousins’ apartment in one of the suburbs of Paris. The metro is quite similar to the NY metro system, except maybe a little cleaner. But it was easy enough to figure out.

When I got to the apartment only one of the children (Deborah) was there. I had not seen any of them in about 7 years, so it was quite crazy seeing her again. Conversation was a little strained in the beginning, but I broke the ice with my tales of how the thing I remember well about her was her love for Britney Spears back in the day. She vehemently denied said love, and then we had a common bond…our current disdain for an old off-the-mark role model.

After a little while, the two parents arrived home, and we sat and talked, and then had a dinner, which was delicious. Home cooked meals in France are so great because they are so rare (with the exception of my fabulous home cooked veggie burger delights). After dinner, the parental cousins (I couldn’t think of a better way to put that) took me out to do a little sight seeing. It was so thrilling to see Paris for the first time, and at night. I love nighttime sight seeing anywhere, but it’s exceptionally beautiful there.

So off we went to see the Eiffel Tower, the Opera House, the Arc de Triomphe, and the Champs-Élysées. We even stopped to get some (expensive) ice cream there, which was huge and delicious. It worked well with my new Kiwi obsession because it was coconut and lime ice cream with kiwis on top. Mmmmm. Fabulous. At that point, it was already after 11, so we made our way back to the apartment, where we headed to bed. It was a well-welcomed sleep.

To the Louvre
The next day the cousins asked me what I was most interested in seeing. I had to see the Mona Lisa before I left Paris, so I said I would really like to go to the Louvre. They were more than obliging, so the Parental Cousins and I headed out towards the museum. I never imagined how huge it was. I had a hard time with the Uffitzi in Florence, thinking that was huge and cumbersome and tiring…this was possibly 3 times the size. We left with good energy though, so the beginning was nice and pleasant. A little Egyptian art, a little Old Italian art, sculptures, paintings, you name it, it’s there.

I was getting anxious to see the Mona Lisa at that point, which was about the time we entered the Renaissance/Revolution Era painting areas. The way it’s set up (The Mona Lisa) is in a room, and to enter the room you pass by lots of overwhelming, and impressively huge tableaux (think Gericault, Gros). Then you enter the room with Miss M.L. and there is a huge wall in the middle of the room, clearly the centerpiece of the room, and so as I rounded the corner I had that excited feeling in the pit of your stomach where you anticipate something amazing. But WAH WAH, in comparison to the other paintings we had just passed, I felt like I had to squint to see it. It was disappointing L. My favorite painter is DaVinci, in fact, and I had always appreciated his other works more than the Mona Lisa, anyway, so my disappointment was quickly rectified when I got to see a few other paintings of his on the adjacent wall.

At that point, I was getting exhausted. Room after room after room of tons of art. It was incredible to realize the vast amount of art that is collected in one place, but it was a little overwhelming at the same time. By the time we left, we all agreed that our feet were in dire need of some rest. So we returned home where we all relaxed. And that night I went out with Deborah and her friends to dinner, where Benjamin (another younger cousin) met up with us on his way home from a mini vacation. It was crazy seeing him 7 years older, too. But quite nice, at the same time.

Zee Boat Ride
So there are these boat rides in Paris, that I actually learned about in my French classes growing up, called the Bateaux Mouches. They take you up and down the Seine, while a prerecorded voice details all the sights you pass along the way, which was a lot. It was so relaxing and beautiful. And the weather was unexpectedly beautiful and hot. It was the perfect means of doing sight seeing that day.

Versailles
After the boat, we all headed over to Versailles, which was also pretty exciting, since it’s something I also grew up learning about. Once again, it was massive, and there was assloads of walking to do. But it was worth it. It’s basically a ginormous castle, with the gardens, and fountains, and rooms plastered with huge paintings, and mirrors, and Liberachi-esque bed decorations. Being able to walk through a castle and seeing many of the rooms, and walking through it in a fluid manner makes it easier to grasp the area in entirety. It’s hard to describe. But often when you see historically relevant rooms of castles, it’s a replication of one room amidst a bunch of other unrelated things. But this was access to the whole thing at once. I remember standing in the middle of one of the ballrooms imagining how amazing it would be to get my dance on there in a big dress with a bust, as opposed to my 10 euro H&M dress in the middle of a bar. Amazingly, it was difficult to comprehend.

We made our way through room after room, and I don’t think anyone was too disappointed to see that we came to the last room. We were all so tired and drained, and the prospect of just lounging around the apartment for a couple hours before dinner was more than welcome. Which is what we did, before heading to a Chinese restaurant. I missed good Chinese food. It doesn’t really exist in Nice. French don’t do spicy well, though. I asked them to make mine extra spicy, and it was hardly spicy at all. I silently forgave them for that, though.

After dinner we headed home where they were playing Spiderman on TV. It was quite amusing watching it in French, though. The dubbed voices were so not like the original actors’ voices. But it got me excited for Superman 3, which comes out here the 1^st of May J.

Au Revoir, Paris!
The next morning, quite early, my cousin dropped me off at the train station where I soon boarded a train back to Nice. It was all smooth sailing, but I was quite tired. But that’s when the guy next to me decided to start talking to me. He was nice, though, offering me his newspaper, and then his cell phone PDA thing to read the current headlines. But then it came down to him showing me pictures on his laptop, because as it turns out, he had a business where he sold clothing in St. Tropez, and wanted opinions on his designs.

Then about 2 hours in, we got word from the conductor that the train was making an unexpected stop because there were people on board that didn’t have tickets and they needed to be kicked off. So that stop turned out to be a 40 minute one, which severely cut into the 45 minute connection time I had between trains.

So when we finally got into the station in Marseilles, loads of people started running to the other train. It was a little unnerving, a little frustrating, but also a little funny at the same time. And I had my own row again, so it was all worth it in the end. And that was how I came to be back in Nice again with the memories of a lovely weekend in Paris.

The Visitor
Yesterday, Nahal, a friend that I knew from Rutgers (we were in French classes together) who is now living in Paris, came to visit me in Nice. It was really nice to have someone new to show around and do stuff with, because it’s fun playing tour guide after being the little puppy dog in Paris for the weekend. So she came yesterday at around 4, and then we headed downtown to get some dinner. We got some pizza, and then came back to the apartment to get ready to go back downtown again. This time in style, though.

We went downtown and she became the honorary “Dancing American” for the night. But, like always, we got the bar dancing. Sapna and I really need to get paid as entertainment, and getting the patrons up on their feet. And Nahal deserved a cut of that last night, too J.

But that’s what we did last night, and then today we woke up a little later than expected, but ate some breakfast and made our way to the beach, complete with a stop at a bookstore, and a couple clothing stores.

Once we got to the beach it was glorious, though. We just sat and relaxed there for a couple hours, getting our tans on. Then for the first time in a looong time I went full on swimming in the sea. Before today it was always way to cold for me to make it all the way in, but today I forced myself to suck it in and go for a swimmy swim. And it was well worth it. There is little else that feels as relaxing as floating or treading in the sea/ocean. But the sun and swimming also wore me out, and so after dropping off Nahal at the train station and making my way home, I was more than ready to take a little delayed siesta.

Which brings me to now. Tired and bored, but all out of sleepy juice. At least I have a nice tan to compensate for the horrible bags that are surely going to be under my eyes tomorrow.

Anyway, I hope you are all well. I hear the weather in Jersey took a turn for the better, which I am pleased to hear. It’s well deserved after your mini ghetto-style monsoon.

I miss you all very much, and can’t wait to see you soon!!

Bisous,
Dina

Another late one. But enjoy it anyway!

Hello everybody. (That’s my introduction at the start of each class, and now the students know my routine, so they scream it before I get a chance to say it. Fresh mouths they have.) I hope you are all doing well. I hear the weather is getting better all over, so that’s always a bonus. Yay for warm weather. [Addendum: I hear the weather now sucks there. Sorry for the preemptive congratulations…] Here the temperatures constantly rise and fall, and it’s hindering my beach going. That and the fact that I wake up at noon more often than not. Anyway, let’s do this…

The Chirping Eggs
Ok, so this is going to make me seem a little psychotic, a little neurotic, and a little adorable (if you’re my mom), all rolled into one. So everyone knows it’s pretty easy to make hard-boiled eggs. But I had never done them before, so I looked to my mom to offer me some advice on how to do them. As I thought, you put eggs in boiling water (who would have guessed?!) and leave them in there for a few minutes. But the point of this blog is not to teach you how to boil your damn eggs, it’s to explain why I am so loveable.

So anyway, as I put the three eggs into the boiling water, looking forward to my delicious dinner, they start jittering right away. Naturally, since the water is boiling and making them move about. But then the not so natural thing occurred…I was just sitting down at my computer waiting for them to do their thing, and then all of a sudden I hear chirping!! Yeah, yeah. I know what you all are thinking, but I know what I heard, and what I heard was chirping. So at first I just figure I am being crazy and I attribute it to a bird outside the kitchen window. But, no sign of bird, and the noise gets louder as I approach the boiling eggs.

So what does any ‘normal’ person do in this sort of event? Call her mom, of course, and ask for some sound advice on what to do. But she just laughed at me. And told me the eggs were not chirping. So I turned off the heat under the water to see what would happen, and alas, still chirping! So now I am imagining that the hot water (instead of scalding them) was offering them an expedited incubation, and they were about ready to hatch in my kitchen. I was worried, excited, and frankly disgusted at the prospect.

So after my mom couldn’t quell my fears of hatching eggs in my chicken, I opted to do the next logical thing. Set the chirpers free. So I cracked not one, but all three eggs open with the expectation of finding at least one duckling awaiting my Samaritan kindness. But nothing. So I am officially crazy, and down three perfectly edible eggs.

But there is a moral to this story. Actually two morals. 1) If you hear your eggs chirp, you’re crazy. And now for the more meaningful…2) Don’t count your chickens before they hatch. ;).

A Flying I Will Go
Just a random note to tell you how much of a world traveler I am. By the end of this week, I will have bought 3 tickets in the span of less than 2 weeks. I am going to Paris the 13^th of April, Belgium the 24^th of May, and for all of you that were worried this day would never come…I am coming home the 29^th of June! Go me! And I am dead set on taking a trip to Spain, and Eastern Europe (I am loving the idea of Croatia). So there.

We’re Bananas
Last Sunday and I, Sapna made our way out into the world, finally, after spending too many nights staying in with Prison Break. So we headed to Ma Nolan’s, where we did what we usually do. From the beginning though, Sapna had announced her craving for a crepe. And the thing about crepes is as follows. Once the word crepe is announced, everyone who heard the word is automatically conditioned to crave it, too. It’s Pavlovian to the core. So the both of us were then on a mission to get crepes.

So towards the end of the night, we make our way to our usual and favorite crepe man, but when we get there, he tells us he closed already since there was nobody really downtown. We were highly disappointed, and sensing our disappointment, Mr. Crepe Man offered us a consolation prize…a bunch of bananas. I don’t know who said yes, or why we said yes, but next thing we know, we are walking downtown with a handful of bananas. And we wanted to go back into Ma Nolan’s for a couple of minutes, but the bananas were suddenly posing a problem.

I tried stuffing them into my purse, but they were just too big, and it just felt too wrong. So then we tried offering them to people. They just thought that was really strange and penned it off as us being American. (Although the bouncer at Ma Nolan’s actually took one!) Finally we made our way out of the direct line of sight of the crepe man and found the closest garbage, in which we liberated the bananas into a safe haven, free from wanting mouths. But I hate throwing away food, so it was with mixed emotions. But I could only see the rest of the night going as follows…”Is that a banana in your pocket…”

The Contract of Doom
One of the teacher’s at work approached me the other day and asked me if I could possibly translate something for her friend from French into English. I understood it as a housing advertisement, and figured it should be short and sweet, and good practice for me anyway. So I happily agreed, and she offered to give me a thank you present at the end, to which I implied she was silly, and we giggled, and I went on my happy and ignorant way.

The next night I found her document in my inbox, and after I downloaded the ‘advertisement’, I learned the horrible truth. It was an advertisement for housing, it was a legal contract/lease for a place in France. It took me a good three hours to translate the damn thing (obviously in segments cause of that damn ADD). I still think some things are a little off the mark (and probably sort of funny), but now that I waved off my congratulatory gift for my translating success, my motivation was a little shattered.

But, on the flip side, I now know how to say “semi-detached, one-story farmhouse in Provence.” I’m gonna have to try to work that into conversation soon…

The Laundry Mishap
I hate doing laundry. Here it’s such a process. We have no washer, nor dryer, so not only do we have to handwash, but we have to hand dry, too. On the one hand it’s good, because I don’t have any of those shrunken sweater incidents, or the old turn-your-favorite-white-teeshirt-pink dealies. But, on the other hand, I have to do a good 5 loads since our sink is not very big, and the dry rack is even smaller. And that was all unnecessary segue into this story.

Anyway, a couple days ago I finally decided to do some laundry, and it was the lights first. So I finally washed everything, and was hanging it all out to dry, when I had a casualty. I dropped a pair of underwear into the courtyard. But not any pair of underwear. This ugly pair of granty panties that are none other than bright green with orange and pink writing on it. And not only did it have to bypass the many windows on the way down to the ground, but it fell about a foot away from a motorbike parked in the courtyard. So I had two options. Well three. 1) Curse and get all pissed off that my underwear fell, and just leave it there to prove a point to, well, nobody. 2) Quickly go downstairs to retrieve it, and continue the laundry process. 3) Crack up, grab the camera whilst thinking what good blog material it could be, then in due time make my way down to get the ugly undies.

Guess which one I did….(pictures to follow)

The Threat to End All Threats
So you know when you are younger and the ultimate threat when you’re in school is the “We’re going to call your parents” threat. Or the mother with the old “Do you want me to tell your father?”. Or the sister with the “I’m gonna tell mom!” Anyway, you get the point. So I found it really funny the other day when I was leaving work, and there were all these parents around to pick up their children. I was waiting to cross the street, and I saw this little boy being a little slow and finicky in his leaving. Then I hear his mother say “Stop it! I am going back and telling your teacher!” And I am not kidding when I say this kid practically yelled “Noooo!” and completely became obedient at that moment. I can only imagine what the teacher must be like at that school (it’s the kindergarten, too!). It reminds me of those books I read when I was younger with the really mean teacher who was really a witch. Or maybe she was just French.

My New Obsessions

1) Wentworth Miller (old, yet still somehow new)

2) Veggie Burgers

3) Kiwi (and homemade fruit salads)

4) Dried Bananas

5) My new mini blender

6) The beach

7) Taking Pictures

8) Youtube.com

Angelique’s Balls
Yes, the title of this segment is confusing, and maybe a tad disturbing. But that girl is my hero with what she doesn’t mind saying…outloud…in public. But the other night we were dancing at Wayne’s, and one of the owner’s is also in a band that plays there. So he knows us so we always dance in front of the stage, and then he announces “Our bass player here, physics teacher by day, rockstar by night!” Then Angelique yells really loudly “Wow, so he’s actually smart?!” Fortunately, they are the most honest bunch of guys, so they don’t get offended by sarcasm.

After they played, Angelique, well acquainted with the wine bottle at this point in the night, took it upon herself to start discussing Newton’s theory of Evolution with the teacher, and how Newton wasn’t such a revolutionary since it was only a matter of time since someone discovered gravity (all the while using electric chords, drumsticks, and anything else inappropriate to further demonstrate her point). He said he had to go.

And on the Wayne’s note, I made it in the newsletter. I’m a local celebrity ;). Or just a girl who really likes to dance.

The Beach
I’m there, and you’re not. The end. But then again, my whiteness blends me in with the rocks, and your doesn’t.

Passover Pizza
So, for some reason I take it upon myself to not eat bread, pasta, or anything floury for the week of Passover (which is what you are supposed to do). This year was a little easier, because the week before I decided I needed to cutback on all that stuff anyway, and started to eliminate it, save my “Cheat Sundays” where I get to eat what I want. Anyway, to celebrate the end of the holiday last night, Sapna and I went to get some pizza. It was soooo good. Who would have thought a place called “La Pizza” would have such good pizza? It was so busy, and so filled with Italians, too. That’s one thing about the warm weather here in Nice. You know how rain brings out the worms? Well sun here brings out the Italians. It’s fun though now seeing all the people at night and on the beach J.

I am trying to think of some other good stories to relate, but I think so much has happened that I can’t think of just one good one. Thus I will leave you at that. I will try not to wait so long between blogs in the future!

I miss you all very much!

CIAO xoxoxoxox,
Dina

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

Ciao friends!

Hello there! This blog is going to be a doozie of a blog because there is just so much to write about. So that could be a great thing for those of you who enjoy my blogs or a terrible thing for those of you who hate to see them pop into your inbox. But if you are one of the latter, than I don’t respect your opinion anyway. Anyway, just gonna jump right into the good stuff.

Sapna Squared

For those of you who are like me and can’t get enough of the awesomeness that is Sapna, imagine having someone who looks just like her, talks just like her, dresses just like her, and even has the same last name. Yes, you guessed it…Sapna’s sister is in town. And then last week she invited me to meet up with her, her sister, and her sister’s husband. So off I went, out to meet the Sisters Sapna. Her sister and brother-in-law were extremely nice, asking me all sorts of questions and putting me at ease. But the parts that weren’t at ease, I decided to assist with a few glasses of rosé wine.

Anyway, I was trying to play it responsibly, so they know that I am not a bad influence on their sister. Even Sapna wasn’t her usual get-up-and-dance self. I was itching to dance, especially after my third glass of wine, but I took all my strength to restrain myself. Then, all of a sudden, the owner of the bar, who also is in the band that happened to be playing that night, took the spotlight and started shining it on people, and he shines it on me and says ‘What is the matter with you? You are always the first one dancing! Are you on antibiotics?!’ So much for playing it cool, huh?

By the next bar, I was dancing like a crazy person, because even I couldn’t stop the wine from having its effects, and Sapna’s sister later told me that I told her that ‘It’s so cool that she’s old and still drinks.’ She’s only 27. I don’t know why I make these wild claims.

XYZ

This is just a little story to relay. Again, I went out with Sapna, her sister, and Sapna’s roommate, Elena. So we were getting our dance on in this French bar, and we were the only ones dancing, as per usual. Because we were the only ones dancing, we had a lot of people looking at us, and laughing. Or so I thought they were laughing at our dancing. It wasn’t long before I was in the bathroom and went to pull down my fly to go tinkle, when lo and behold. My fly was very down. And my superman underoos were very exposed. That’s probably what the French were snickering about. “Oh look at zat stooped American wiz her underpantalons showeeng.”

The Xray Shown ‘Round the World.

So, last Thursday my friend Matt came to visit. He had never been to Europe, so he opted to kill two birds with one stone. Anyway, once he arrived, I wanted to show him downtown and I wanted to get some dinner with him. We were waiting at the bus station to go downtown, when this woman sits down next to us. She doesn’t talk to either of us, but instead motions everything. So I assumed she knew we were American and thought we didn’t know French. But as time progressed, it was obvious that she couldn’t really talk for whatever reason. But that didn’t stop her from trying. So props to her.

Then it all took a turn for the weird. She took out a letter and gave it to Matt who gave it to me, since it was in French. It was basically a letter stating the results of some lab tests she had received. So I had no idea what she wanted from us. So I said, ‘oh that’s too bad. Sorry.’ And she just looks at me. So I just keep saying different things in regard to what it says, but eventually we both just give up.

But then, she reaches in her purse and pulls out this manila envelope. Then opens it, and Voilà…it’s a hand Xray. She takes it out and holds it to the light so that we could look at it, and then she shows us a swollen spot on her hand. And then she lifts up her skirt to show us more swollen parts on her leg. Matt and I are just stupefied. So we just sort of sit there in silence and wait for the bus to come while intermittently glancing back at the exposed leg and Xray. So much for convincing Matt that Nice is quite normal.

Driving on a Full Tank of Funny

So after going out all night on Thursday night, Matt and I woke up really early to head to Florence. The night before, one of my friends, Didier, that plays in Merla here decided he wanted to go to Florence, too, and offered to drive. Which was pretty exciting, because how often do you get to drive from Nice to Florence. Anyway, I was feeling quite horrible from the night before and lack of sleep in the beginning. But as the car ride progressed, so did my spirits and brilliant sense of humor.

I was Didier’s subpar navigator in the front seat, along with the dog he is dog sitting, and Matt was keeping us entertained from the backseat. We were rocking out to some music, and I just kept the zinger’s coming. My moment of glory (or shame) came when we had to pay toll in Italy. They charged 25 euros for a span of road that was less than 100 miles, so I go (and I am cracking up still just typing this) “25 euros! That’s highway robbery…literally!” Nobody laughed. So, I thought it was because they didn’t hear it. So I repeated it announcing the forthcoming joke. This time everyone came around, but I am pretty sure they weren’t laughing with me. More like an at me situation. But that still became the joke of the trip. Even if only for me.

Florence, Day 1

We arrived at about 4ish in Florence. Actually, we arrived at about 3 but because my navigational skills aren’t where they should be, we ended up doing circles around Florence. And Didier’s window wouldn’t work, so he would ask all these people on motorbikes for directions, but he would have to roll up next to them and then open his car door to ask them for directions. It was so National Lampoon’s European Vacation, that it became hilarious by the third time he had to stop and ask for directions.

Anyway, we finally made it to our hostel, which was pretty nice, except we had a room on the first floor which connected to room where all the worker’s stay so we couldn’t close our door, and so that was just a little weird. But they were cool about letting the dog stay with us, and they even watched the dog while we did sightseeing, so we were liking the place even more.

The first stop was the Museo dell’Academia, where the statue of the David stands. That was probably the most amazing thing I saw in all of Florence. I had no idea how huge it really was. And it is just so impressive. Nothing at all that a picture or a textbook can capture. The museum also had an exhibit on musical instruments, and I think it’s fair to say I saw my first ever hurdy-gurdy. Matt thought it was funny cause without realizing I would make up the sounds that each instrument would make if it were up to me and my ideal world.

After the museum, we went to dinner at this place that took us about 30 minutes to walk to (which we later learned was only 5 minutes away if we took the direct route). So we had one bitch of a waitress, but I had my Italian pizza, and it was really so delicious. The crust was so doughy and heavenly. Well worth the mistaken extra 25 minutes to get there!

After Pizza Heaven, we went back to the hostel where I got dolled up to go out on the town. I actually had a friend from Nice who moved to Florence, so we made plans to meet up with him so he could take us to the good bars. It was a little strange at first with the four of us, because each of us were so different. So we were all a little quiet at the start. But then we hit up this bar which was pretty fun, and once the boys started on their beers and shots, all of a sudden I was standing at the bar looking over at them all playing foosball and chatting to each other. It was a relief that they all got along. We stayed there for awhile, where I got to talk to a few Italians (wink, wink), and then we headed out in search of a place to go dancing. We made a pit stop at a place where they sell sandwiches and pizza all night long, and after stuffing our faces, we decided going back was the best way to go. It was Alex’s last night, so we him farewell, and thanked him, and off we went to bed. I think I fell asleep in 2.5 seconds.

OH! I almost left out the best story of the first day!! So Didier had to go into the hostel to get the dog before dinner, so we met up with him, but decided to wait downstairs (the hostel is on the third floor), for him to come down. So we were waiting on the sidewalk next to a window of the first floor of the building where the hostel was. All of a sudden this woman comes to apartment building, and she starts talking to us in Italian, so we have no idea what she was saying. Then she goes in English “Away from my window. I don’t like people under my window.” Then she goes inside and so Matt and I move a little bit away from the window, just thinking how unfriendly the lady was. But nothing had us prepared for the next thing she was about to do. Matt goes ‘I bet she is going to look out the window to see if we are still there.’ Not only does she look out the window, but she opens the window, bucket in hand, and next thing we know, there is water being thrown at us. So my jean’s leg is soaked, so I move a little further from her window, but then she comes around a second time, and throws more water at us. Like projectile water shooting. Not nice. Those little Italian ladies can be crazy! But like protective of the window crazy. Not Xray showing crazy.

Florence, Day 2

I think it’s fair to say that this day was one of the most exhausting days of my existence. I wasn’t feeling too well, I think mostly from lack of sleep, but nevertheless, we headed out into the streets of Florence. Didier was going to be leaving that day, so we did the smaller sights first, so we could all do them before he left.

We headed to the Duomo and another Cathedral where we just walked around and did the picture bit. All the art was pretty much the same in the Churches at that point, so we did them pretty quickly.

Then we saw Didier off, and Matt and I went to the train station to buy our tickets back to Nice for the next morning. So after walking all the way there for the tickets we went back to the Museo dell’Ufizzi, where we had previously bought our reserved tickets (which is a super good idea if you ever go, because it saves you at least an hour’s waiting time to get in). So there we got to see Boticelli’s The Birth of Venus, and his Springtime, and I got to see my first ever in person DaVinci, which was pretty awesome for me, since he is my favorite artist. There were also a lot of statues to be seen, tons of paitings, and just lots of walking. At that point I was getting extremely exhausted, and the paintings were all starting to look the same. So we hurriedly did the rest of the rooms, and then a couple hours later were out of the museum.

On the way to the train station we serendipitously found a Serial Killer Museum, so of course, I had to go see that, too. In theory it was pretty cool. There were wax renderings of a chosen 11 serial killers, and then we got these recording devices were we were offered the stories behind each one. It would have been much more exciting if we weren’t so tired at that point, but it was still pretty cool. I learned that America is home to 60% of all serial killers. And Italy and England tie for second with like 6% or something vastly smaller than the U.S. So we are the mass producers of McDonald’s, Pop Stars, and Serial Killers. Bravo.

After a little rest back at the hostel, Matt and I headed back to the bar area and went to this place the guy in the hostel recommended, called Astoria. It was like a swanky bar upstairs, and a dance floor downstairs. So we traded off dancing and sitting for a few hours, and were already feeling it by about 1 AM, so we went back to the hostel and went to sleep.

Florence, Day 3

The third day started at the buttcrack of dawn, with our train leaving at 7:50. So we got some food and beverages for the ride, and headed to our train, cutting it pretty close. We boarded on the 1^st class section though, and we couldn’t change over to 2^nd class without getting off the train and getting back on the 2^nd class traincar. However, as soon as we got off the train we hear the whistle blow, and then this person starts motioning us to hurry up, so there we were running to second class. Haha. That sounds like the story of my life. We made it just in time, and then finally slumped in our seats and didn’t do much for the next four hours while the train took us to our first stop in Genova.

Genova was absolutely gorgeous, though. Going past in the train, and seeing the Italian landscape with the Mediterranean behind it was so beautiful! The train stopped in the more industrialized part of the city, but it was still quite beautiful. So we just chilled there for about an hour, and then got on our next train back to Nice. Nothing really exciting happened on the train to speak of.

Back to Nice

At about 4 pm, we were back in Nice. We ate and then headed downtown, because it was the last day of Carnival, where they actually burn an effigy of the king in a boat in the Mediterranean. They then had a fireworks show, which was really awesome. It put the Jersey Fourth of July fireworks to shame. The weather was beautiful, the scenery was beautiful, and the fireworks were beautiful. All the makings for a spectacular show.

We hit the bars up in Vieux Nice after that and then headed back where we would finally be able to sleep until whenever we saw fit. (I saw 2 pm the next day as fit).

Matt’s last day was pretty chill. We went back downtown where we got Gelatos and did a little shopping. We also did the ferriswheel, and then dinner at a Hibachi restaurant. Together we did a whole lot of eating. Which was delicious in its own right. Then we went out to meet up with Sapna and her sister for a little while, and then headed home, because Matt’s taxi was to come at 4:30 in the morning.

And so that brings me to today. Matt left this morning, and since then I have done nothing but sleep, eat, and watch movies. It’s my vacation from my vacation, and I love it.

Blah blah blah.

Anyway, That was the mega-uberlong-stupendous blog I had to offer to you. I hope this finds you all well, and I will now start my official birthday countdown…

Wait for it, wait for it, wait for it….

14 Days till this girl’s birthday!

Miss you all!!

XOXOX

Dina

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