today's lessons...

1. Having hot water isn't always a blessing.
2. When the cold water pipes are frozen the toilet won't flush.
3. Don't warm your pajamas on the stove cover.


I've mentioned the Abbey doesn't have heat. The student wing will be fine. We think. The property managers have placed electric heaters in each room until the pipes thaw and the regular heat can flow through. Can the old Abbey wiring handle 17 electric heaters going all at once on one wing? We shall find out, shan't we?

I do have hot water. That is a blessing. However, I have zero cold water. It's not easy to shower in scalding hot water. I suppose I could do the ole: run washcloth through hot water, let cool a bit, wipe body down, trick? I suppose I shouldn't complain. I should have realized, though, hot water doesn't connect to the toilet. So after I flushed once, I can't flush again. The cold water pipes are frozen connecting to my room. Don't worry - nothing bad was left in the commode.

I moved my stuff in today. There are four space heaters and an oven warming my room. The ceilings are at least 20 feet high, and you know where hot air goes? Up. Yes, I said the oven is on. It's the stove, actually. I'll get to that in minute. Don't freak out, mother.

I haven't unpacked entirely yet because in this place you can't finish anything when you first start it. Nothing. Not even a text message. I'll be surprised if I even finish this entry! I've decided this place is an alternate universe, it's the only way to explain some things, and I will have to devote a separate entry to that topic another day. But just know the only reason I am even typing this, now, after I wanted to be in bed already, is because I left my only toothpaste in my travel-safe-size bag in the office. And the office is the only place in this building that has internet. And I was so frustrated that I even had to march down here to get my toothpaste through the freezing halls, I sat down to share these lessons.

Earlier I was so distraught at thinking about having to sleep in a room where I couldn't stand without shivering unless all my 12 layers were on and my two hats, I turned the stove on - KNOWING one is NEVER to do that. Let's face it, fires start that way, I KNOW this. But I stayed there and stood to watch it heat, and it felt great, okay? I turned it off to go to Michele's for dinner. I wasn't 100% on leaving, I sort of felt I needed a night on my own, I crave my alone time and it's hard to come by in this alternate universe, but I went to dinner. As I put the stove top down over the eyes, I had a thought: ooh! You could warm your PJs on this warm-metal-stove-top-cover-thing and they'll be nice and toasty when you get back. Again, the stove was cooling down, nothing was turned on. So I laid my lovely flanel plaid long night shirt and black stretchy pants on the cover, and took off.

Dinner was lovely.

My apartment was surprisingly warmer when I got home. Or maybe my body was just warm from walking up the four flights of stairs? I started to undress, filled the furry hot water bottle Michele has lent me, I have PLENTY of hot water, and then remembered my PJs on the stove top. When I picked up my flanel top, under it on the white metal stove cover was a dark brownish spot.

Hmm.

I looked at the flanel shirt. Seeing what was there on the side that laid on the stove cover made me think of crispy na'an bread you eat at middle easter or indian restaurants. You know those black crunchy flakey parts? Not what you want to see on your flanel night shirt. There wasn't a black spot underneath where my stretchy pants laid, so I hoped for the best. I haven't decided what to do with the shirt yet. The black bit comes off on your fingers at the touch.

Changing clothes in the cold should be an olympic event. It's an art mastering the perfect timing of slipping off one pant leg while keeping wool sock on and quickly inserting leg into stretchy-pant leg then immediately back in to house shoe. Success! Time for the second half of my lower body. Mind you I still have on a tank-top, sweater, pullover, vest, down jacket and hat on my upper body. Second leg was a success, time to pull up stretchy pants to cover exposed-and-getting-colder-by-the-minute bum. My left hand's fingers went right through that side of my stretchy pants. Like paper.

FAIL. I guess I couldn't see the part of the stretchy pants that turned into na'an like blackness because the tights themselves are/were black. They're in the garbage now, and thankfully I brought a second pair.

So currently I'm sitting in my office, no heat in here either, writing this blog. I'm in my fully dressed and layered top half - although I threw my flat hair up into a bun and have the hat over it, I really look fantastic - and my stretchy pants and wool socks and house shoes.

I better not forget what I came all the way down here for: toothpaste!

Goodnight.

I've never been so cold...

I made it to France. In one piece. A frozen piece. Didn't sleep a wink on the plane, and I even took a "natural" sleeping pill -whatever that means-  but it didn't do anything. My mind was racing through recent events. Everything is better now. I feel good.

When I boarded the plane with my carry-on, it wouldn't fit in any of the over-head compartments. Really? They were much smaller than I recall them being on any other international flight - so I had to check that bag. I will say this, though, if you want to avoid that second-checked-bag-fee, that's the way to go. Act like it's totally going to fit in the overhead, and then when it doesn't, act ticked off that you have to check it, they don't charge you!

Before she took it from me, the flight attendant asked if there was anything I couldn't live without in the bag, I hastily said no because I was flustered I had to check it at all - what international airline has overhead compartments that won't hold an over-stuffed, legally-sized, carry-on bag? The kind that doesn't have individual TV screens in each seat - that's who.

When the pilot announced it was -6 degrees Celsius over the intercom I immediately regretted forgetting that my jacket, scarf, hat, mittens, etc. were in that bag. The Paris airport is under a roof, yes, but there is a lot of open air space....

Both bags made it and I was out of baggage claim and at the train station waiting for Nora, one of my student coordinators, within less than an hour of de-boarding. This means I waited about two hours tracking her flight. Every warm article of clothing was on my body and still, I shivered. The Charles de Gaulle train station is not heated. And the doors constantly open with people entering and exiting the platforms. I couldn't have bundled up anymore. Still...miserably freezing. Even in the heated "waiting room", people wandered in the over-crowded room with glass windows and doors just to double check that there wasn't any more space, so all the heat wandered out - it was pointless. 

Nora wandered up without me having to search for her, which was great. I had contemplated panicking about not mentioning what I would be wearing, what my luggage would look like, that I'd have my tiger-print glasses on instead of contacts, why didn't I pin-point an exact spot to meet?! But she got off the escalator and walked right to me, waving like a crazy tourist (me, not Nora).

The train we planned to take from the airport decided not to run, which was not great. It would have put us in Montrichard at 12:30pm, just in time for lunch at Le Commerce in Pontlevoy. So while I shivered and waited for Nora, I researched alternative options.

Option A: Hang out in the freezing airport for another four hours, and then 2 hours in the St. Pierre des Corps station (a.k.a. butt-hole of France) and arrive in Pontlevoy around 5pm.

Option B: Take the RER B line in to Paris, jump on the metro line 4 to Montparnasse station, hop an 11:20 TGV train to St. Pierre des Corps and then switch trains (with our bags) within 10 minutes to get to Montrichard. Arrive in Montrichard before 14:00 (France tells time like this, get used to it if you're going to keep reading subsequent blogs).

We chose Option B, whatever happened we wanted to be moving, and get there as soon as possible. Nora slept on the plane and was up for seeing as much of Paris as possible her first day.

For anyone who has never been to Paris: be prepared for stairs in the underground. And pack light.

We made it through the first twelve 2-flight stair cases before we found an escalator (they are rare) and while on it, it STOPPED! So we picked up our 50 lbs bags and started hiking it up the tall stairs (you know the stairs are taller on an escalator) - I felt like I was in an ironman contest. I lost. 

Three Parisian boys wandered up behind us and picked up Nora's suitcase to hike up the escalator with us. How darling and helpful! Did anyone come to my rescue? No. Assholes. So, me and my two bags - one on either side of me - blocked up the whole walkway - it didn't matter that Nora had helpers, we were still going to be slow.

I got to the top and heard Nora say, "Hey!" and my stomach clenched. I turned around and everything seemed nonchalant. Nora was fidgeting with her bag, looking through it, face white. I asked if they messed with her, they had already vanished, she said she found one of their hands in her purse but everything was still accounted for. FAIL for that dude.

Shaken up, but determined to make our train, we kept walking toward the Metro line 4. I felt awful and wondered if she was okay, what an awful experience to have on your first day in France!

Right before we exited that part of the underground to find our line 4, a tall - somewhat handsome - man wandered up inconspicuously beside us flashing a badge. I'm always suspicious of a handsome man, as you may or may not know, but you should know that, and he flashed his wallet at me saying "Madame, police, est-ce que je pourrais vous parler?" I checked out the badge, it looked fake (what do I know?) but he insisted on talking to us. He asked if one of those three hooligans put his hand in one of our bags? Woah! How do you know that? He wasn't in uniform, what was I supposed to think?

Three undercover cops saw the whole shake down. One of the three cops already had the three crooks against a wall (I wondered how they vanished so quickly), yelling questions at them. "Who stopped the escalator?!" and "Who put their hand in her purse?!" Apparently that escalator is a "usual spot" for these guys to stop the escalator and rob unsuspecting tourists.

So, Nora and I dictated what happened for a police report, and we missed our train. It didn't matter that we were insistent with the police officers about needing to get to Montparnasse. You could tell they were so excited to finally make a bust. We missed the train big time. Lugging bags through the underground, escalator or not, takes forever.

So we waited 2 hours in a Montparnasse cafe for a while, until they started to set up for their lunch crowd and scorned us for not ordering off their over-priced menu. At that point we moved next door to the French equivalent of McDonald's (Le Quick). Fries and a Heineken never went down so well. Yes, fast food joints serve alcohol in France. Isn't it fabulous?

Yes, I had mayo with my french fries. And they were actually, really, French, isn't that fun? Ha. Give me a break, Elliot, I'm so jet-lagged.

We got on our train and discovered it was delayed. Did I already mention we only had 10 minutes to make our connection in the butt-hole of France's station? I guess the conductor who checked our ticket, saw my exhaustion, heard my ever-so-trying-to-sound-fluent French and felt sorry for us. Apparently he called ahead and they held our train for us. We didn't know this fact until we arrived to the platform in St. Pierre des Corps, breathless, and I yelled as we ran up and they were blowing their whistle  (because I wasn't 100% sure we were getting on the right connection) "est-ce que vous arretez a Montrichard?"

"Oui, madame, nous vous attendez" - MERCI, MONSIEUR CONDUCTEUR, MERCI! They were waiting for us.



Home-free. Marianne picked us up at the Montrichard station and it felt like coming home. To this home. Because I have so many!

Good day. Safe arrival. Julien offered us plenty of wine at Le Commerce last night -"to purify your body after travel", he said - and he asked the usual questions, "What weekends will the students most likely not travel? So I can host a concert. What professors are coming this year? Are there any cool ones? What ages are the students, what are they like? Will they party at my bar every night? Are you married yet? All the French boys have been asking again. Oh you're not? Hmmmmm. I have some friends you should meet, just for fun, you know. You have a stick up your ass and need to loosen up."

I really do think that he thinks I don't have enough fun. I like to call it "being responsible" and "having self-respect", yadda yadda. I love him anyway. And if you know Julien (the bar owner) this makes a lot of sense to you. If you don't know him, just don't worry about it. It isn't anything to get excited about. I performed my usual move, enjoyed the complimentary wine (who wouldn't?), and bowed-out early - it's safer that way, and I slept like a baby.

Wait - did I mention there is no heat or hot water in the Abbey? Maybe I forgot that tidbit. So we're currently staying at my friend Michele's, across the street. Nora will move in to her room at the Abbey tomorrow, Brian arrived today (another student coordinator) and moved in to his room tonight - because the hot water is working in their rooms, just not the "staff wing". Fantastic.

Also - have I mentioned how cold it is? Or that Brian had to wait in the butt-hole of France for FOUR hours today because of the weather? He, too, had a run in with the police - but that's another story.

I've only been here two days, one sleep, and already so much has happened.

And I've realized - after talking to Nora and Brian about it - it's different for the people we leave behind. We leave, and enter a whole new world, where everything is different. For our friends and family, a piece of their world leaves, and it constantly feels like something is "missing". Those are VERY different experiences that come with very different emotions. Some people can handle it, some can't - or they don't quite know how to handle it just yet. Some people are better with words than others, others are afraid to use them. For me, I'm always the one leaving, and I will always speak what's on my mind. I think that's something I've learned having to "leave" all the time. It's important to me. You're welcome. It takes guts sometimes, but I think it's easier in the long run. I don't know...

I do know this: I am extremely jet-lagged and exhausted. And I only hope whatever I wrote up there makes sense and you can follow it. Hopefully it made some of you chuckle at parts. It's freezing outside and HOW is one supposed to run in these conditions? I'm dying for a workout...I might just have to bundle up tomorrow and hope for no ice on my path....

Goodnight.

really, it's not a big deal...

It's only 2 months.

I've been away for much longer than that before, and everything's been fine.

Okay maybe not always, something always happens: relationships end, marriages happen, people have babies - but other than the usual life, why does anything else have to be different?

I think it's everyone else. I've done this my whole life, left. I'm always going somewhere. People handle leaving in a variety of ways. They handle ME leaving in a variety of ways. My friends like to start talking about starting up girls night again, the week before I leave, because we don't see enough of each other. It's true, we don't. But now we're really not going to - at least not me, and that's okay! I'll be right back. My cousin and I agreed we don't spend enough time in New Orleans or on the coast, they're so close and we rarely go. "Let's start going more!" Okay, when I get back.

I get all sorts of responses from people when I talk about where I'm going, what I'm going to do...I like to think that their reaction is a reflection of whatever subconscious issues they are dealing with themselves. That might not be the right way to put it, the word "issues" isn't right, but it's what I've got for now.

I get a lot of, "wow, that's awesome, you have the coolest job in the world!" And some of these people can't comprehend how it can also be quite daunting, yes -so cool, but everything has it's ups and downs and that's only me being a realist. What am I supposed to say, "yes, you are right, I have the coolest job in the world and am all the better for it."? I want to feel "normal" too, folks. I have challenges I work through and overcome, and yes, even in a foreign country! I like to think these people are just aching to escape their own reality. That they're tied down, or they feel like they are in one way or another, so all they can do is envy what I do and scoff at me for having anything but bunnies and butterfly feelings about my job.

A lot of women give me the whole, "gosh, that's cool but, that probably makes relationships impossible, right?" What's the right answer here? Yes? No? Who cares? Why is that the first thing that pops in to your head? Is that what I should be thinking/worrying about? Wtf? What these women are not saying out loud is, 'more power to you but thank God I don't have to do that, I'd never find anyone...'

There's a mixture of other reactions - it's like having the conversation about where and how I grew up all over again..."Do you like that? What's it like? Why? So you teach? Wait what do you do? So you go over there and party, oh I get it..."

Now I've lost track of my thought process and have little idea of where this ramble is supposed to be going.

But I think it's here: yes, I am leaving everyone. News flash: it's not my virgin voyage. I'm just going across the pond. Just for 8 short weeks. And I firmly believe they will fly faster for me, over there, than anywhere else - let's get real, I'll have 30+ college students to look after around the clock. That's what I do. And you know what else? There's internet in France too! Yaaaayyy!!! That means skype, facetime, emails, blogging - and let's not forget the good old fashioned phone call - or dare I mention snail mail? That's still my preference. I'm really good at being a long distance friend, I love to send long emails, I know they are read and appreciated and if all I get back is a short, "miss you, loved your update, keep them coming" that's fine - I'll take that about 3-4 times before I blow up your FB wall asking for an update of your own.

If you would like to reach me old school style, send a note to:

[my name]
The Abbey Program
1, place du college
41400 Pontlevoy
FRANCE

And don't fret, not that much will change in 2 months. And if it does, well that's L.I.F.E. I'm used to this part. That doesn't mean it's "easy" - clearly, I'm blogging about it. Why? Oh who knows... It's what's on my mind at the moment!

I fly in 13 hours. But I'll be right back. Keep in touch.

Don't gross out the world

Thought this would be a nice follow up to my last post (thanks Dad):

Are you ready to travel?

http://www.fekids.com/img/kln/flash/DontGrossOutTheWorld.swf

In case you weren't aware...

They say America is the country with the least amount of passport holders per capita. They don't tell you America is the country with the least amount of people who understand a passport is required to leave the country....I'm willing to state the latter pretty confidently, without conducting further research.

I understand if you've never traveled before, you won't necessarily know what is required in terms of international travel documentation.

We realize this in our office as well, we're in the study abroad business after all, and have been for a while now. So, we understand the need to remind students of the requirement to hold a passport should they intend to participate on any of our programs.

Not only do we mention this:

• on our website
• in every program manual
• in all our interest meetings
• and in all our pre-departure orientation sessions...

We also email students weekly to remind them to upload a copy of their required passport to the post-acceptance portion of their application.

I am a patient person, very understanding.

What I don't understand is how a student can feel justified saying to us, just a few weeks prior to program departure, "I wasn't aware I needed a passport". That's after 2 months of receiving our reminder emails...

This doesn't quite beat the time (before our online application system was in place) the one student just decided all her pre-departure paperwork was unnecessary, so she didn't open her mail, and we had to threaten to not allow her on the flight until she turned it in to our office - that was 4 days before departure.

Really?

"Them Internationals"

8:05 Thursday morning, phone rings, "International Programs, this is Jessica, how can I help you?"

[in a very thick southern fried country accent]

"Yes, I need ta speak with sumone about them international students!"

"Good morning ma'am, this is the study abroad office, we primarily work with American students who travel abroad - but I would be happy to direct you to whomever you would like to speak with...."

"Just whoever teaches them internationals - don't y'all teach them inny manners? So rude. These Chinese kids come ta my church and have dinner with us and I cain't stand ta watch them eat."

"Oh, I'm sorry ma'am. I would be happy to help direct you to the appropriate person. There are two offices that work with international students, the English Language Institute and the International Student and Scholar Services Office...do these students speak English or do you think they are in the process of learning English?"

"They speak English okay-alright, but they need ta learn some western table manners! You know they don't even use a kniiiife? Just stick that meat with a fork and bite off it, can you believe that? Or they stick their head down there at their plate and shuffle that food in there like sumone's gonna come up an steal it frum 'em! It's just disgustin, my husband cain't even stand it no more - y'all have got ta do sumthin about it! I thought I'd say sumthin to 'em but I just cain't stand the sight of it no more."

"I am sorry to hear that ma'am. How wonderful that they've found a place to come and worship, isn't that great?"

"Well, yeah, but they've got to learn to be western at the table, it's disgusting I'm tellin you!"

"Yes, I hear your concern, ma'am, and you know if you felt so moved, you could in fact say something to them, but you would probably embarrass them because I am certain they don't mean to offend anyone...Do you want to hear something funny? I do a fair amount of traveling with my job, I work in study abroad, I mentioned earlier, and I'm sitting here wondering if I offend people where I go. For example, when I went to China I ate with my knife and fork....but I don't think the Chinese expected me to be like them, I think they could look at me and tell I wasn't Chinese, and didn't grow up in their culture among their customs. Is that silly of me? I mean, that's just the way I was raised, to use both utensils, but I don't change who I am when I travel to new places just because I'm in a new country - these Chinese students aren't being rude, their customs are just different, not wrong...."

[pause to let it sink in]

I continued, "and what's even more funny, is that I work with a lot of students at the University, American students, and would you believe some of them have some of the worst tables manners I've ever seen? Oh it's just inconceivable, and they were raised here on our American soil! Such a shame, isn't it? Maybe we should focus more on our home grown, here, let's start with Mississippi..."

[pause to let it sink in]

I continued, "I don't think our International Offices offer any specific courses on western table manners to our international students, but I do know they discuss cultural differences between the countries of our world, and how it's important to be tolerant of others. I would be happy to pass on your message to my colleagues in our other offices, was there someone specific you hoped to speak with?"

Southern Fried Country: "Alright then, you have a good day." 

[click]

what have i done?

I'll blog about Alaska soon enough, it was amazing - but more importantly after that trip I've ended up on an online dating website.

Yep.

Yes I realize I can't just "end up" on one of those things, I have to actually put myself up there, unless you're like a friend of mine who has a friend that secretly does it for them and then 'fesses up after the friend really likes one of the matches...end of story is once my friend got over her anger at the other friend for doing that to her, she's in a relationship with a match from online!

I already knew a few couples through the six degrees of separation thing who have met their match on an online dating site, but after Alaska and an email from a dear friend, that number grew by three!

So I decided "why not try it out?" and stayed up last night to see what it was all about, jet lag still has a grip on me - hence the facebook status "why am I still awake at 3AM!!??!?!?"

I'm doing this for a year. It's going to be a fun, entertaining, and who knows maybe I'll find a match?

That's still weird for me to think about.

So after I signed up, I answered what felt like a personality test I took as a student in college on one of the leadership teams I served. I uploaded photos, but which ones? Do I select a variety of funny, serious, goofy, etc? Absolutely I do! Then you get to answer questions...it's not very different from creating or editing your facebook profile, to be honest, but you're just conscious of the fact that it's a "dating" website. Which is kind of strange but maybe that's just something I'll get used to.

After the whole process, immediately I have 6 new matches! Wow. I don't know if that's good or average or I don't care.

You can check out someone's profile, view their photos, and read how they answered those same questions you just spent over an hour completing. If you get that gut feeling of, "ooooh, I know I don't want to go down this path...." you can archive the match. These archived matches can still communicate with you, they can ask for an icebreaker or for you to answer some get-to-know-you questions, and you can decide whether to give them another look. If you're still not interested you just "close" the match and that's that. Much easier than actual face-to-face dating when the guy just can't EVER pick up the hint after you've said a dozen times, "I am not interested in you."

I archived 4 of the matches pretty quickly. One asked today if I would be interested in a chat (online, not on the phone) and so I sent him some get-to-know-you questions. We'll see how it goes...why not?

1 in 5 relationships today met online. Maybe I'll go on a few dates. I'll tell you this, I didn't limit my search to Hattiesburg, MS or the US. I opened it up to the whole WORLD. So far all my matches have been within a 200 mile radius...

I think it will be interesting, and I plan to make the most out of it. And don't worry friends and family, my best-friend-of-an-assistant-DA-who-prosecutes-sex-offenders and her police-officer-husband have already laid down the law, "no going on any dates before a background check is run to see if he's a chester-molester or has any outstanding warrants, only dates in public places and only meeting in the middle (no picking up at your house or near it)!!!"

And before anyone goes and thinks, "aw, poor Jess, she's become so desperate...."

Get over yourself. Puh-LEASE!

I'm just curious to see what it's all about.

In fact one of those friends currently in a relationship from online said to me, "it doesn't seem to me like you have a problem meeting men, you just haven't met the right one..."

True. My mother said something about that with a chuckle in her tone this summer too, I don't have a problem meeting men. At all. In fact one hesitation I had about signing up was that I'm not sure I'm open to meeting a life partner right now, so what if that interferes with the success of this site?

I just had a flash of that movie "How to Lose a guy in 10 days" but I was the main star and the movie was about online dating. I feel like I could write an article for a magazine about this experience! Or maybe I'll just keep blogging about it.

Stay tuned...