My Tribute to the Sapnameister

An Ode To Sapna

Here’s to the greatest girl that left me yesterday.
My French American friend with whom I liked to play.

Together we traveled to places far and near,
Where we had a tequila shot, absynth, or bottle of beer.

Wherever we happened to be, per chance,
We were there to be giddy and happy and dance.

Ma Nolan’s, Wayne’s, Thor’s or even Blue Whales.
Our dancing never stopped, nor did our crazy tales.

If we had a nickel for every shot of tequila we took,
We’d both live in mansions with a butler and a cook.

If we had a dime for everytime we felt glee,
We’d be part owners of NYC.

If we had a quarter for every crush that we had,
We’d be serving Champagne at our Bachelorette pads.

And heaven forbid a dollar for every bad joke we relayed,
Never again would we have to be paid.

Antibes, Prague, Monaco, and Cannes,
All over the area we made awesome plans.

10 shots in 10 minutes and then some singing we did,
Which didn’t go over well, so we ran and hid.

Danced of tables, stages, and bars,
Sang in rooms, streets, and cars.

I miss you more than words could ever say
And today I missed you even more than yesterday.

I thought of you when I heard Billie Jean,
‘Cause I thought of your energy, fierce and everything but mean.

So to this I offer you a Dina Ode, even if the right words I lack,
And I would give a jabillion euros to have you back!

I miss you, and so does everyone else in Nice!! My blog (and time here in Nice) will suffer greatly without you in it :(.

The Prague Blog

Hello All! I know, I know. Waaay long overdue. I think I got snide comments from more than a couple people wondering when this would show it’s lovely face in your inboxes. While your prayers have been answered. Long live Prague Blog! (that rhymes nicely).

By The Numbers

4 free drinks + 3 more that were offered but refused…European record for Sapna and I.

7 Australians encountered

100 times we heard one particular Australian say he hates Americans

7 month interim between bagels

1 HUGE spider in our hostel…2 FREAKED OUT Americans

6 Swiss Airline complimentary chocolates I had

10 fans on the Slovakia Side at the soccer game

5008 times my shoe got stuck in the cobblestones on the St. Charles Bridge

3 Americans we met

20 Tram rides (at least) that we took

2 Tram doors that literally closed on me... Literally

1,000,000 French people we saw

3 balls of falafel I ate…which were delicious

Day 1

On the first day, Sapna and I made plans to meet up at the airport. With a little delay on both of our parts (I keep forgetting how crowded the buses can get because people actually do work on Fridays here), we both checked in and made our way to the plane. In no time we were seated on the plane, which is of course when I realize how badly I have to use the facilities (AKA tinkle), because I super hydrate myself whenever I fly. Poor Sapna heard me complaining about it forever, but we both knew all would be well when they turned off the seatbelt light after take off. But no, SOL. Apparently the route Mr. Pilot and the people who decide that stuff, chose the route which was highly turbulent, which they took the time out to announce. Therefore, the seatbelt sign would be on indefinitely throughout the flight.

Thankfully, about a half hour later, I was bouncing like a baby in the bathroom of the plane (due to the turbulence), but nothing was going to take away the beauty of that moment for me. We also got delicious sandwiches on the plane (Meggie..it was the same one we got when we went to Zurich), even thought the ride was only an hour long…

We landed in Zurich and then had to take another hour long ride to Prague. It worked out well, with us going straight to the terminal from our last terminal, and only a few minutes later boarding the plane.

We finally arrived in Prague, where we first encountered the bitchiest lady I had ever seen in Europe at one of the help counters. Then we encountered a nice lady who steered us in the right direction via bus and public transport, and bought those tickets through the second bitchiest lady ever. We then made our way to the hostel and walked up and down the street searching for it. Little did we know that we were walking up and down a street called Kamenickà, whereas Keramickà was where we supposed to be looking. Uhhhh…righto. Those crazy Czech’s and their crazy street names that look the same.

Anyway, we finally made it to the hostel, where we were struggling to explain the situation to the chick there (with dreads…apparently at our hostel you can only work there if you have said dreads). We got our room key, or keys (there were 3…quite the task we thought together, considering we were definitely going to be using them after trying absynth at least once), and headed to our room. We had booked a 5 bed room, but our room was actually a 6 bed. And the TV they advertised had 3 Czech channels, with one that repeated. And the kitchen in the room was fine, as long as you opened to cabinet to shut the refridgerator door. Oh, and the handle to our mini bathroom sort of came off a lot. But we ended up having the whole room to ourselves all three nights (with one exception that I will relay later), which was quite lovely.

After changing and taking a breather, Sapna and I headed to the St. Charles Bridge, which we read was a must-see. And it was. It was clearly the center of tourist activity, with street vendors, picture-takers, and crazy foreigners at every turn. We quickly became two of those three in a matter of minutes.

We then followed the bridge to the old Town, where we got some expensive dinner (relative to how much we thought it should be…damn those tourist traps), but we got it right in front of this clock that we also read about in the guide books. On the hour, ever hour there are puppets that ‘dance’ we were told. It was the lamest thing I had ever seen. They don’t dance. It’s just two wooden figures on a circular track that just go round and round. For like 20 seconds. My overpriced chicken Ceasar Salad, which didn’t even taste like Caesar Salad was more thrilling than the clock. The coolest part of the whole dinner/clock event, however, was the waiter that looked like Bon Jovi. I was in Prague, but straight ahead of me represented my Jersey roots. Yes, he caught me staring. Many times.

After dinner we headed back and took a little nap. We fell asleep to Czech Dancing With the Stars and woke up again to Czech Dancing With the Stars. After we got ready, we headed out, again going over the St. Charles Bridge, and we went to this Irish Club. It was unlike Irish Clubs here or at home, but it was fun. The music they played there was pretty great, and this old Irishman bought us both drinks. And I had a Pilsner, because I had to while I was there.

From the Irish bar we went to one of the supposedly biggest clubs in Europe. And I would believe it. It had 4 floors, and each floor offered at least a couple rooms (or a couple entrances to the same room). The music in each room was different. And each room, of course, had a very big bar. So we got more drinks and started to get our dance on. We started on the bottom floor and made our way up. I quickly vetoed floor two, though I can’t remember why. I was a fan of floor 3, though, as they were playing 90’s and late 80’s rock. Sooo my thing. There we met some Australians. One in particular loved Sapna. So we hung out with them for awhile. It was really funny though, because we talked to the one Australian, Chris, I believe for a long time. And then I started dancing with his friend (cause that’s what you do when your friend is being wanted by his friend…it’s the rule of friends). Anyway, I guess me and Chris’s friend didn’t really talk much, because literally like hours later I was like “So, are you having a good time in Prague?” and friend was blown away by the fact that I spoke English. Granted, I don’t know if ‘blown away’ would be the correct term. ‘Disappointed’ may be more a propos. You know how guys prefer the dancing without the talking…But anyway, we ended up hanging out with them and chatting for the rest of the night into the morning. Then we headed back over the St. Charles to get the tram back. And that’s when my stupid shoes got caught every ten seconds in between the cobblestones. Grrrr.

Oh yeah. And the absynth. The first night we tried a shot of it. The bartenders there also loved Sapna so they took extra special care with our shots, knowing it was also our first experience. They actually put sugar on spoons and then lit the sugar on fire and let it drip into the absynth. But they did this continually for a good 5 minutes (which I would later learn doesn’t soften the blow at all). Finally they handed it over to us, as we handed over our camera to them. Let me just tell you. Absynth = Absolutely Disgusting = Great after photos. Seriously, though. It’s supposed to taste like licorice. To me it tasted like burning. And my throat hurt after. Haha. It’s hardcore like that. And the biggest shocker of all…Sapna thought it tasted good. Sapna doesn’t think many things taste good. Sapna is a vegetarian. I just wanted to throw that in there, even though it is of no relevance. I have to say, though, the effects of absynth weren’t too startling or anything. We only had one shot of it, but it was a very clean sort of buzz. It lasted quickly, and it was comfortable. Except for the esophagus being burned part.

Oh, and the best part was at like 6 AM our tram comes, and the Australians were in mid sentence waiting with us, and all our bedside manners were shot to hell as the night progressed, because we saw our tram and didn’t even say goodbye. We just ran after it. And then as an afterthought we shot over a wave. Still feeling a little badly about that to this day. But not badly enough where I don’t still laugh thinking about it. But Karma was instant because we got on the right tram, but thought it was the wrong tram. So we got off at the next stop and walked to find another tram going the opposite way. But when we got on that one, we realized we were now actually going the wrong way. So back to the old stop we went. To do it all over again. Basically, it was past 8 by the time we got some shut eye.

Day 2

We woke up pretty late this day…around 3 o’clock. We then got up and took our showers and what not (Sapna burning the bejebus out of her hand in the shower because apparently the shower head, which you have no choice but to hold, gets insanely hot), and we headed to the stadium to buy tickets for the football (soccer) game that day. With tickets in hand, and a good few hours to kill, we made our way back to the bridge (surprise, surprise) and we took a boat ride there along the river. It was fun! We got complimentary Pilsner and ice cream or cookies, and we got to learn about Prague all the while. The captain was the best, though. He was cracking jokes and it was so cute cause his English was in direct translation. I don’t remember the beginning to his one joke, but he was implying he was going to jump ship (HAHAHA pun!!) and take us somewhere on the boat with him. But only if we “Haf eenough of zah time.” The only bummer were the really rude old people that were sitting on the back of the boat talking RIDICULOUSLY loudly. And the guy of the group would randomly break out in operatic song. There was a great moment where this other old guy, sitting across from me, turned around and yelled ‘SHUT UP!’. I was hoping for a senior citizen brawl. Well, at least a verbal battle.

After the boat we went back to the stadium to watch the game. It was excellent. The ambiance was nuts. People yelling, chanting, doing choreographed cheers. I was quite frightened and mesmerized at the same time. But I felt safe (yet also quite the opposite) because it seemed that all the on duty cops in Prague were sitting in our section. The Czech Republic Spartans were actually playing Slovakia that game (which in my mind equates to heavy rivalries since they used to be all part of one great big Czechoslovakia), but it was funny because the Slovak cheering section was all of like 7 people on the opposite side. But they were hardcore in their own right. When their team scored a goal they were jumping around like monkeys. There was also almost a fight among the players on the field. But no such luck. Wow, do you see my yearnings for violence?? The same girl who has to peacefully coexist with bugs because she doesn’t have the heart to kill them save spiders.

The one thing I thought was really weird was how the Czech people whistle when they don’t like something. Americans whistle at games when something good happens. They do the opposite. It was quite confusing at first. Another thing that was quite different was when someone got hurt on the field (which was often), it seemed more like the medical teams worked fast, running in with a stretcher and hurredly taking them out, not because a player needed quick medical attention, but moreso because they just seemed to be in the way during a soccer game. Haha. But all around good time!

After the game we went to a pizza place by our Hostel, called Pizza Einstein. Never figured out the connection, but it was pretty tasty. It would have been cooler if my toppings spelled out E = MC^2, though.

We then went out again that night, this time starting at an English Stag Bar (unbeknownst to us), but that worked out highly in our favor because the bartenders told us we were the first women in there all night, and they started donating shots to our cause. The being women at a stag bar cause. The one bartender was actually only working there for the weekend because he was visiting and his father was friends with the owner. He was actually a Canadian with Prague decent, and it turned out he was also a Jew, which instantaneously made us buddies for the night. He also said I looked like Kate from Lost, after I told him he looked like Paul Rudd. Even though he acted like a hyper Vince Vaughn (yeah, I know).

From there we went to our first clubby bar where we danced for a little bit and had a second go around with absynth. This time the bartenders weren’t digging Sapna, so they just gave us flaming spoons of sugar and told us to dip them when the fire goes out. Once again, awful. Clearly, I would make a bad subject in a conditioning experiment.

With my further burned esophagus, Sapna and I headed to this other bar that we read really good reviews on called M1. Yeah. It was like the clock. We did a little dancing, though, and we met some people from South Africa (who were actually living in Prague). After the Absynth, we were all a little too excited about that, but they were really nice, so it was fun.

By the time dawn neared, we were ready to head back. We opted for a cab this time. You should have seen me trying to explain where to take us. I tried the name, but nobody got it so I had to break out the map and show them. Then I got in the cab and after a couple minutes I asked our driver where his meter was. He said it broke. I said how much will it be. He said 250. I said no, You think I am stupid. 200. He said fine. Sapna said ‘He’s a liar!’ in drunken French. I think the next day the same cab ride was 150. I was stupid. Haha. Thank goodness for that exchange rate working in our favor.

Day 3

The next day I woke up crazy early considering how late we went to sleep. I took the opportunity to go to the grocery store and get some water, and some snackies. I was loving the grocery store. Everything was so cheap. And things that are usually in English were in Czech. I just walked around aimlessly for a good 15 minutes and then made my way back with big ass waters and a breakfast bar in tow. I was restless, because Sapna was still asleep, and was contemplating heading to the Jewish District solo. But then Sapna insisted she wanted to come, so I did some research on where we could visit that day. Just when it would be the best time to get up and at ‘em, poof, I fell asleep again. Finally we woke up again at around 3, and then headed out to get….BAGELS!! I was sooooo excited. I miss bagels so very much since they don’t seem to exist in France. There is this place in Prague, though, called Bohemia Bagels that we had read about and vowed to visit. Sapna made me swear I wouldn’t get my hopes up too high because I would more than likely be disappointed. So not the case. They had all sorts of bagels, and Philadelphia Cream Cheese varieties, and just everything else magical. It was delicious and well worth the little trek we had to make to get there.

After bagels we went to visit the Castle. It took us awhile to find it, but the best part was along the way I asked this elderly woman if she spoke English. She said no, but she goes “You can…do…what?” Clearly, the only 4 English words she knows. I just smiled and said “Castle?” So, she actually knew 5 words. But she was so adorable. She did this sign/body language to show us it was straight and around a bend. But she put her old body into the around the bend part. Like I mean, old lady was on her tiptoes with her body contorting in the direction opposite her pointing finger. I think she even added a little wispy whistle in there for effect. She was so great.

We found the castle, but couldn’t go in or anything. I think it was actually like a church or something. So after all the walking we just took some pictures, and headed back down the hill.

Our next stop was the Jewish Neighborhood. We got there sort of late, so we didn’t have the opportunity to see much. We went into one Synagogue-turned-Museum though, where the names of the people killed in Terezin (the Concentration Camp in Czechoslovakia) and I found a Berkowitz. That was kind of crazy. We also went to see the Jewish Cemetery which actually has graves stacked in 5 layers to fit all the people in there.

That was all we really had time for there because things started closing. So we then took the opportunity to go to the souvenir shops and look for presents and such. After that, we went back to the Old Town, and I was adamant about seeing this Black Light Show I read about. I figured it would be unlike anything I could see back in the states or France, and I guess it was. It was a nonverbal show (set to music) loosely based on Alice In Wonderland. It was in a Black Light Theatre, though, so everything was based around the black light effect. Some parts were really cool, but some were a little too artsy fartsy for me. But it was pretty good.

After that, we went back to the hostel to get ready for our last night on the town. That’s when IT happened. The incident. I am referring to the GIANT spider in our shower. It was all hairy. And Huge. And scary. I am scared of spiders as it is. Now add hair, height, speed, and in our shower, and you got a freaked out Dina. Thankfully, Sapna is a sissy like me, so I didn’t have to feel silly. We contemplated for a good 5 minutes what to do, while constantly checking to make sure the spider was still there. The stupid thing was stuck in the shower because it couldn’t climb up the sides to get out. So we decided our ultimate plan of attack would be to drown it. I feel a little guilty for such a cowardly and inhumane way to take Mr. Scary Spider’s life, but did I mention it was hairy? And huge? Anyway, Mr. Spider shriveled up and put up a little fight. But, our dreams for a departure shower were shattered.

So, with our smellyness we went to this other club that night. It was actually open 24 hours. When we first got there it was a little weird, and they were playing Techno so it wasn’t my thing. But after awhile the music stopped and the good-looking guys showed up. It was party time in the Prague household. In the midst of rocking out to Madonna, I accidentally kicked this guy that was huge. Like Spider huge. Super tall and built. I apologized, and he grabbed me to dance to the next song…I’ve Had the Time of My Life. So here we are, partner dancing to Dirty Dancing, and Mr. Huge Guy is quite the twinkle toes. He, too, was Canadian, and as it turns out, was an ex-NY Giant. I didn’t believe me until I asked him what position he played and he said ‘benchwarmer’. But now he plays in the Canadian Football League. He agreed with my statement that it’s blasphemous to play Football instead of Ice Hockey when you come from Canada. But yet there he was. We kind of chilled and talked to them for the rest of the night (which was much shorter than our others), and then we headed back to get some sleep.

Day 4

We woke up at like 10 and got our stuff together to get ready to check out. I don’t think we did anything this day except haul our stuff towards the airport where we got some breakfast and just chilled for a couple hours before our flights home. I think we were both pretty tired and just looking forward to our respective spiderless showers and our beds. The flights were uneventful, but sandwichless, but they did give us ice cream on the second flight, which reminded me of the Baskin’ Robbins strawberry cheesecake flavor. Delicious J.

So, that was basically our trip in a nutshell. Ok, there was nothing in a nutshell about it. That was basically our trip in a long detailed blogish saga. And you love it. There is much to write about Nice that happened recently, but I will spare you and your eyes. And your precious time. But I miss you all very much.

XOXO,

Dina

The "Lianna Came To Visit" Edition

Hello all! There is sooo much to write about, but I am going to focus on the awesome time I had with Lianna this last week. If you can handle it…

Mexican in Monaco
So Sapna and I had went to the beach during the day, and Sapna had yet to go in the water since her escape to Nice. So, we decided that the time was right for her to have her first Mediterannean excursion. After many minutes of complaining how cold the water was and dipping our toes in and out, we finally made our way in. That’s when we saw another assistant and she came in to join us. It was nice cause the water was really calm. That is until WHAM…an unexpected HUGE wave came and pulled us all in. And just when we were catching our breath and settling our panic, in came another. At that point we all ran out of the water. Actually I ran, and made Sapna come with. We were all cut up and a little shaken, but that was the perfect excuse for Sapna and I to feel deserving of a good dinner out on the town…thus, Mexican food in Monaco.

It was delicious. I had soft tacos. With JALEPENO PEPPERS!!! I hadn’t had those since I left the US. They were really good, along with a delicious Pina Colada. Well worth the near-drowning incident, the trek to Monaco, and the extra euro spent on the side of Jaleps.

Lianna’s Visit!!

Day 1
So after meeting Lianna at the airport, we went back to my apartment, long enough to change into our bathing suits and then we headed back downtown. On our way we picked up sandwiches, so our bodies could be in fine form when we laid out on the beach. Ha. We stayed there for a couple hours, where my color turned from albino white, to a little less white. It was fabulous.

That night, I took Lianna to Ladies’ Night at Thor’s. We danced and sang and party hardied like there was no tomorrow. So much so, that we had to take a cab back cause we didn’t have the energy to get back any other way. Thus concluding day 1.

Day 2
The second day after waking up, Lianna and I decided it would be a good day to go to Cannes, and then lay on the beaches there. The beaches in Nice are actually made up of rocks, but the beaches in Cannes are all sandy. So we got ourselves ready and rushed to the train station. But once we got there, we learned that they just opted to cancel our trip to Cannes. So we had a good hour to kill. So we decided to go to the help counter and see how much a trip would be to say, Milan. To our delight, it was pretty cheap and only a 5 hour trip. So in the best impromptu move of my recent existence, Lianna and I bought 2 roundtrip tickets to Milan for the next day (Tuesday) until Thursday.

So with our tickets in hand, we finally made our way to Cannes, where we chilled and tanned for a couple of hours before heading back to my apartment. It was a fulfilling day already, but we picked it up a notch by going out on the town again, and making our way to Ma Nolan’s. The guys even paid special attention to me there because I was with a hot blonde chick J.

Day 3
So, off we trekked to the train station to head out to Milan. Of course, our train was delayed (as was our luck for the week), but it turned out to be only like a 20 minute delay. We made ourselves comfortable and ended up being next to these older Italian ladies. They seemed cool enough, but we were annoying enough, so it was a little weird.

Lianna and I just talked and joked and did whatever, and then this old Italian lady came in our car. With my minimal Italian knowledge I heard her sit down, say something under her breath, and then one of the previously mentioned ladies said “They don’t speak Italian,” to which they all laughed, sorry, cackled. I also noticed the old Italian lady, whom I had a mild dislike towards now, point to my seat and say something. Apparently I was in her seat…

Next comes a younger Italian lady to sit down. And her seat is where the Italian witch is sitting. But the Italian witch says “Well there is nothing I can do, because that girl (meaning me) is in mine.” After that she makes a phone call on her cell phone, and I pull out my tickets to show the nice young Italian that I am, indeed, in my correct seat. At this point the witch is talking on the phone and ignoring the fact that the young lady is waiting (whilst standing) to sit down, and the worst part is, while she is on the phone, she put her bag on the other seat across from her, so now the other lady can’t sit anywhere. And she is just chatting away knowing full well the situation.

Finally, witch gets off the phone, and states again that I have her seat, and then pulls out her ticket. It was in Italian, but I could still see that yes, I was in her seat number, but she was in the wrong train car entirely. To which nice Italian goes to me “See, even some Italians can’t read Italian.” I know pride is dangerous thing, but I was so happy to see witch’s embarrassment as she left the train car. See, witch!! American’s aren’t as stupid as you think!

Anyway, upon arriving, we took a cab to our hostel, where the front desk guy did not seem to keen on us staying there. But he took us to the room, and I decided that him not liking us wouldn’t stop me from being annoying and asking him for ideas on where to go. It turns out, though, that he hearted us, because he then offered to take us out with some of his friends the following night, and he offered us wine, and food, and drinks, and everything. We were ruling the school (AKA hostel).

That night we ventured out for dinner at this Italian restaurant very near to the hostel. When we walked up, they sat us immediately in the back of the restaurant (mind you, nobody else was seated in the back). I guess they figured we were annoying, and liked to eat a lot, so maybe they just put us close to the kitchen. But every single old Italian man working there (and even one young one) stopped over and did the fake sitting down with us routine. Oy. It was soooo delicious, though. We had pizza and the best Tiramisu of my life. After dinner our waiter even walked us part of the way to our hostel. We were thinking that he is supposed to be working so it was weird, but he was nice and cute, so it was fine by us.

After dinner we went to a little bar downstairs from our hostel to get a drink and try to watch part of the Manchester United v. Milano soccer game, which was a big deal there. We got there in time to see the last game winning goal. Good enough for me.

From there we went out a little bit to see what the bars/clubs were like, but they all sucked, so we got ice cream instead. Way better! After that we went to the hostel and just hung out with Mario, the guy at the front. He showed us music videos in Italian and we figured out stuff to do the next day. Then we went to bed. (P.S. In our room was an older, not so friendly couple.)

Day 4
Returning to the unfriendly couple. Funny story. They wanted to leave the room in the morning, and I was half asleep/half awake while they were getting ready. And then they were about to leave the room, and I had no idea why they were just standing there. It turns out in my half asleep state, my feet were hanging off the bed and they wanted to get out, but my feet were blocking the door. And Lianna told me she saw the whole thing but wanted to see how it would play out without getting involved…(bitch :p). They went with the old foot tap, and I just giggled as I moved.

Anyway, once we got up, we headed to the Duomo (which took us way longer than necessary due to my [lack of] map reading skills). We were told there would be things going on in the Piazza there because it was a national Italian Holiday. Well the festivities turned into some sort of rally, but that’s neither here nor there.

The first thing we did was some shopping at H&M…go figure. And then we got some ice cream. And then we did the sight seeing, after the other priorities were met. First, we went into the Duomo, an IMMENSE church. They make the churches HUGE in Italy. Huge, Elaborate, and quite ornate. It was cool to see, though.

Next, we went to an art museum next door to the church which had a Kandinsky exhibit going on. Only that part of the museum was open, which was fine with us, because we were already getting a little tired from the walking. It was pretty cool to see, especially since I wasn’t too knowledgeable about his works. So I learned something, new J.

After the museum, we made our way to a street called Via della Spiga, which is the most expensive street in the world (think Tiffany’s, Juicy Couture, Dolce and Gabbana, etc.). Everything was closed as we walked down the street, but it was still crazy to see all those shops together. One of the stores only makes one of everything. So you know you’re getting a one-of-a-kind deal there. Can you imagine?

After that street (which was exhausting enough on its own), Lianna and I went back to the hostel where we rested for a little bit, and then got dinner at a subpar restaurant. We then got ready to go out. We had new roommates in the hostel, who were two awesome girls (I say this because they liked my jokes). We couldn’t convince them to come out with us, but we did convince them to drink wine with us. Lots of people from the hostel were going to this club that night, so we just joined, and it was really fun. It was all outdoors, with the bar and the DJ set up outside, too. They guys were a little creepy and really short (even shorter than tiny Lianna), but it was still awesome to get our dance on in Milan. Perhaps the best part of the night was when we were leaving at 4 AM, and instead of having the crepe stand that I am used to in Nice, they had a Pizza stand, where they had ginormous slices of pizza for our enjoyment. They were sooo delicious. Almost worth going back for that.

We got back and passed out only to wake up just in time to check out of the hostel. We had all our bags, and 3 hours to kill, so we were trying to figure out what to do. We decided to take a looong lunch, and back to the restaurant we ate at the first night we went. This time we went with pasta. This time all the waiters were taking pictures with us, and giving us dessert samplers and such. We felt like celebrities. It was lovely. After that (when our stomachs were full and we were already tired) we went to the train station where we boarded and Lianna slept the whooole way, while I was stuck watching 35-year-old Italian man having his mom spit in a napkin and clean a spot on his white jeans for him. So stereotypical, eh?

Anyway, we got home safely, had some dinner, and then made our way downtown to Wayne’s for Ladies’ Night. What can I say…we’re hardcore.

Day 5
Friday we started at the beach. My tan was looking quite super by this point. Then on the way home we picked up some fresh salmon and salad stuff to make a delicious salmon salad dinner. And it was delicious.

Then we got ready to go out, and made our way to the train station because we were going to party it up in Monaco. Problem. Once again, issues with the train. We got to the station at 10:45 to catch the 11:05 train where I see the bored reads that the next train to Monaco is 5:15 AM. SURPRISE!! The workers are on strike…again. They are forever on strike here. So we were trying to figure out what to do, but it worked out nicely, because one of Sapna’s friends was driving in anyway, and she had room for all of us. So off to Monaco we went. It sucked.

We went to the club (Karément), where we usually go, and thank goodness it was free this time. We got excited to learn that the DJ was from Chicago. An American peep. But I HATE house music. I think it all sounds the same, and it’s all crap. So we asked when he was switching. And he said soon. But an hour later it was still house. And so we asked again, and he promised again. But he wasn’t delivering. And then we found out that he didn’t have any other CDs and he was waiting for the resident DJ to show up, who wasn’t. So it was house music central, and my brain was hurting, and my feet weren’t dancing. And neither were anyone else’s. So we headed home at 4 which is way earlier than the usual, but it was fine. Once we got home Lianna and I crashed.

Day 6
We woke up, and once again went to the beach. We stayed most of the day there, and then we headed home and got ready to go to dinner. We made our way back downtown, and went to this really tasty and fancy French restaurant. We then walked up the Zone Pietons where they have lots of street vendors and performers. I haggled for the first time ever, and I think I love it. Yeah, Jew!

We then got our last ice cream together, which was amazing. It was Rocher Ferraro Flavor, with whipped cream and chocolate sauce, and it was huge and we scarfed it down. (And now I am trying to figure out how to lose the extra baggage I packed on).

We made our way home after that and Lianna packed and we just chilled for awhile. She decided to pull an all-nighter because her cab was coming at 4 AM. I almost did it with her, but fell asleep the last half hour. At 4 we took met the cab, and said good-bye L. I was sad until 5 minutes later when I got back in bed and passed out like a light.

And that was Lianna’s visit. Busy, busy. But soooo fun.

…For An American
After Lianna left, I slept for most of the day, and then that night I went out with Alix and her friends and I met Angelique and Renee at Ma Nolan’s. There I met an Australian, a New Zealander, and an English person. As soon as I started talking to them they started quizzing me on my knowledge of all things British and Australian. That was before they knew I taught all these gems to my students in my English Speaking Countries lessons. But they were surprised. That’s when the “You’re smart…for an American.” was first issued.

…Later that night…

Sarcastic Dina came out full charge. “I like your style…for an American.”

…Even later…

Me: “Didier, they say I’m cool but only for an American.”
Didier: “Well, it’s true…for an American.”

…Bottom line…

I’ve never been prouder….to be an American.

Ok, I think that’s all I’ve got for you. Be prepared, though. Friday I am going to Prague for 3 nights with Sapna. That’s gonna be one hell of a blog…for an American. J

That’s all there is…I hope you are all doing well. I miss you and get to see you soooo soon!!

XOXO,
Dina

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