What makes you happy?

Friday night was one of those epic nights in this village. Le Commerce had a ska band concert (I never knew an accordion could look so good) and most of the hard-core student partiers were out of town, so the small group of them left behind were fun and relatively contained.

Late in the evening Mark and Adam turned up. They are such a fantastic couple. Mark is Dutch, speaks four languages, Adam is American but has lived in France longer at this point, and speaks three languages. They both live and work in Paris but have a home in Pontlevoy and another (more recent) in Uruguay. I shared my "upbringing" with Mark for the first time. Adam had heard it before, I'm pretty sure. Mark had a lot of questions for me. Not the typical "wow, did you like growing up in that way?"More like, "What do you want, Jessica? Do you want a husband? Do you want to live in France? England? Indonesia? What do you want? Marriage? A career? Great sex?"

"Can I not have it all, Mark? Is that not an option?"

"How old are you?" Mark asked.

"Twenty-seven..."

Oh well then of course, because I am so young and have already experienced so much, I only have that much more to experience during the rest of my life, yes I can have it all - "but the real question is, Jessica, what do you want? What makes you happy?"

Apparently this had been the topic of conversation over their steak dinner before heading to the concert. He was really in to the subject.

Okay, reader, ask YOURself that question...do you know? I mean really, does anyone really know? And for those who say they know, that they know exactly what they want and how they are going to get there, well is that any fun? Forget whether or not it's really possible, aren't they missing key moments in life that surely pass them by for being so focused on exactly what they want?

I'm happy wherever I am. I don't want to have to choose "husband" or "career" or anything else. I want life as it comes at me. I don't know where I'll be in five years. Hell I don't know where I'll be a year from now, literally. I can say that I'm fairly certain I won't be France, but maybe I'll come over for a week or two? I'm fairly certainly I'll be in Hattiesburg, for a good while longer (I like it there!), but where else? I don't know, and that's okay!

This question about "do you want a husband? A marriage?" is one that's come up a few times this week, funny how that happens. My response has been somewhere along the lines of, "I want a life partner, yes, that is something that I want, to add to my life's adventures....because that would be so much fun!"

Do I want to find that person right now this very moment? It doesn't matter! If I said no, someone would stumble in to my world and it would stir everything up. If I said yes, well, that would be depressing. So no, no I don't want that right here right now, but if it happened tomorrow - it would work out. It's just the idea of finding "it" one day, building up to that, it's exciting. And comforting. And in the meantime, I'm just going to take life one day at a time...yes, me, "Miss Planner", is saying that.

So far every opportunity I've encountered has just appeared through an open door, and I've walked through it. Sure, some doors have been closed, but others open, and that's just how it's been. I have some relative ideas of what I'd like to do in the future...live overseas, maybe become a high school guidance counselor and do what my parents do, get a masters degree, have kids, travel, go on a cruise (a really self-indulging one).

The good thing is I don't have to answer any of these questions, really. Furthermore, I've been pretty good recently about deciding not to be unhappy. Just be happy. Change whatever it is making you unhappy, and be happy. Two years ago I was miserable and decided to drop out of grad school. Instantly I felt happier, weight lifted off my shoulders, I just wasn't in to it. And I've never regretted it.

I don't have a strong conclusion here, I think this will be a constant conversation with myself, with others - as it should be! And I look forward to it.

Remember that time the wrong cousins were selected...?

Uncle Bernie...

Uncle Bernie (related to the director of the program) bought this beauty several years ago for a few months-stint in France. Then he gave it to the program, basically. The thing has so many speeding tickets on it from over the years no one else will take it. It's a 1970-something Mercedes Benz. Drives like a tank, no parking break, can start her off in third gear just as easy as first, and reversing requires putting your entire body weight in to pushing down on the stick and shifting down below fifth gear. The radio only picks up the most cheesy and eclectic of all French radio stations. I love this car. 

Showered and shaved...

I have water. It is glorious. I never, ever thought I would be excited to shower in my closet of a bathroom stall, but today was magnificent. It's amazing what a hot shower and a shave can do for a girl, especially when she doesn't have to march down a freezing hallway to get to running water.

Staci visited over the weekend, just a quick trip to France for four days. It was tons of fun and exactly what I needed for a positive energy boost. I think she had a pretty good time too! We walked our buns off - literally, probably 10 miles our last day in Paris. Monday morning we hit the train back to Onzain where "uncle Bernie" was waiting for us - more on that in another post - and drove back to Pontlevoy. 

It's so great when people from "home" can visit me when I'm working one of our programs. It just helps everything come together, I think, for them and also for me. The things I talk about, the places I mention, the people I interact with while I'm "gone"...to be able to see it, meet them, it just paints a clearer picture for the people at home. 

And for me, well, it's not exactly a "normal" lifestyle I have been living the past few years, living in three countries a year. I suppose that applies to the majority of my life though, if you really think about it. I remember getting on the plane as a kid, leaving the US for whatever country we lived in at the time and it felt like I was traveling between worlds. Really, I can remember engaging my brain to revert back to how we lived in the world we were traveling to. Okay, as an adult it isn't as fantastical as that sounds, it's a much easier adjustment, there is less engaging of the brain in that sense, but I vividly remember those feelings as a kid. The only constant between the worlds I traveled between was my immediate family. 

So, when the people from these worlds visit the other it adds a little more sense to life. It bridges a gap somewhere. It's nice. 

Although there is a strange line that can be crossed which is difficult to explain, but a visit from people between these worlds can also feel somewhat invading, for lack of a better word. There was that one time a "significant other" was leaving on a plane to come visit me in France the very next day, but then he didn't come, long story. I remember the feeling was very overwhelming - for a lot of reasons - but part of it was me wondering whether I really wanted to let that person "in" as intimately as allowing them to visit me in one of my other worlds...[rolling my eyes] does this all just sound incredibly cheesy?  It's not meant to. And you might also be thinking, "well, Jessi, then why the hell did you let him book his ticket if you were going to freak out about it?" I'm not turning this post in to an analysis of previous relationships...

All I want to say is: it's incredibly satisfying to have friends/family visit me when I travel for work, because it puts it all together in a way that's not possible without an actual visit, but only the closest of friends/family can make that trip, I think, people who I have the right kind of connection with mentally, emotionally, etc. - or else it feels a little invading and/or forced. 

I just realized this post's title has little to do with where I actually took it. Eh.

Just some of the fun Staci and I made.

le brazza...

There's a bar-tabac down the street called Le Brazza that I try to visit for coffee before I open the office during the week. Except on Mondays, they're closed Mondays and I have to go to Bar de la Poste owned and operated by a mullet-sporting couple. Even their dog has a mullet, if you can believe that. 

A different couple owns Le Brazza, and they trade off mornings. This morning the man was there, and he reminds me of my Granddaddy Lamb. On the rare occasions my grandpa picked up the phone when I called home in college, we would talk about the weather. Always. That's usually what the Brazza man and I discuss. Today's conversation: The snow is melting, it's not as cold, how nice, etc. And then he offered me my grand crème at a discount!

I bundled up to walk down there and thought it almost felt warm! That's probably because my body is now adept at functioning in extremely-cold-below-freezing temps.

On the way to work I stopped at the boulangerie. Another daily activity. The hardest decision to make is what pastry to purchase for breakfast. A pain au chocolat? Or the even more devine pain au chocolat aux amandes...a pain aux raisins? A few days ago I tried something new, a pastry with apricots and cream worked in somehow. Amazing. Not too sweet, the perfect puffy pastry. Sometimes I walk out with a few options, and share with anyone who happens to wander in the office. 

Today I walked out with a single pain au chocolat - like a croissant filled with chocolate, and two chocolate hearts with a ribbon tied around them placed delicately in their own bakery bag to give my student coordinator, Brian and Nora:

I made those cut out heart cards myself yes I did. Happy Valentine's Day!

With the warmer weather I'm hoping for thawed pipes in the staff wing, and running water for me by the end of the week. It would be so fantastic to be able to use my restroom finally - and get some laundry done, there are only so many times you can re-wear wool socks...

Photos from the past few adventures...

...this is how cold it was at the airport.

Nora's first "Le Quick" experience waiting on our train at Montparnasse station.

View from the TGV en route to St. Pierre des Corps.

Greeted by the "grey ghost" in Montrichard.

Thanks Marianne for coming to get us!

Outside Le Commerce on la place first evening - super pumped and exhausted!

It's $%^#(@& cold!

The gardens in front of the Abbey - some of you remember more trees being there.

That's the little green door the students use to enter and exit the grounds.

Sunsets here are magnificent.

Fabulous - that's how awesome I look bundled up in my office.

Can you see the snow falling?

La vache qui rit...

I was actually hot last night under the covers with all my layers and hot water bottle. It was delightful. Unfortunately I still didn't sleep well, darn jetlag - and probably some anxiety over what's about to happen, and lack of exercise.

Now I don't have ANY water. So to shower: I layer up inside my room, in full winter gear, head into to the arctic hallway with my shower caddy in tow, and walk to the student wing to a condemned room that has hot water but will never have heat. Or something like that. It's like being back in college, really, only in Alaska instead of Mississippi.

I went to my former host family's house for dinner tonight. She called me and told me to come for dinner to "thaw out". I'd love to! We had real fondue, from the Savoie region of France. It was amazing. Her father is from around there - Italian descendants.

My host family first met me when I was 19, a student studying abroad on the Abbey program. I had a host sister too, Emily, I wonder what's come of her...

I fell in love with them immediately - he is one of the town doctors, very interested in everything, inquisitive, pensive, etc. She is warm (so is he, but she's the mom), loving, kind, an excellent cook. They are both very active and love to travel and explore new places. Their home is very warm and cozy.

When I left after my time as a student, in 2004, the only "French cheese" I could tolerate was La vache qui rit. Anyone who's been to my house has seen a framed vintage print of it hanging by the front door - if you paid attention.

News flash: The Laughing Cow Cheese is not considered a cheese in France. It's what you give children, you know, picky ones who can't handle the real stuff yet. My host parents laughed and laughed when I told them my favorite French cheese was La vache qui rit and from then onward she put a piece, wrapped in it's foil with that grinning cow on the cover, on the cheese plate that emerged after our meals.

When I came back in 2007 they were thrilled. And she remembered. We still chuckle about it. But that year I was ready for the real stuff, and although I relied on bread to accompany the stronger flavors, I ate (and enjoyed) all of it.

In 2010 and 2011 the foil cheese came out a few times, we still chuckle about it to this day, but they were SUCH proud host parents when they saw me go after the stinkiest cheese without any bread to wash it down. I miss cheese when I'm not in France.

There wasn't a cheese plate tonight, not after fondue. But there was soup to start, the fondue, and a home made tarte made from fruit from the garden - cerises blanc (white cherries) or meribel (maybe it's the same in english?), that was the discussion over dessert.

It all ended with a decaf espresso and chatter about my friend Staci coming to visit in EIGHT DAYS! They've invited us to dinner, for un vrai diner français. He speaks more English than he's willing to admit, and Staci speaks zero French - but neither did my parents when they came in 2007 and it was such fun. We'll see - I told her I'd confirm later this week, after I speak to Staci.

Look at that, it's 11pm again. Off to bed....