Two Weeks!

Is all that's left of our jobs, so we're getting ready to hop on another gravy train, this one consists of doing absolutely nothing at all. It's time to stop pretending to do nothing with an occasional bout of 'teaching' thrown in, and actually do nothing with some occasional travel. That reminds me - our good (and only) British friend Imagine* (name changed to protect dorkiness) has left us all alone in Mustardville and has decidedly buggered off to Weinershnitzeltown via Statford-Upon-Wankerburg, so here it is, a shout-out to her - without her much-needed interventions, we would have stayed home much more often and puked our drunken guts much less, and who needs that in their lives? I hope they treat her well wherever she is going and make her all kinds of vegan dinners and maybe even vegan sushi (oh wait, that was us), if not, she's going to come visit us in the US of A(ss) and try Vegannaise and Earth Balance and fall deeply in love.

P.S. I found a vegan French food cookbook! Heresy or blessing? You decide, Imagine!

Petrified over easy

So I finally tore myself away from being a one-woman travel agency by day and an internet Veronica Mars aficionado by night, with occasional sneaking back to the apartment during the lunch hour for a fix, in order to post, post, post. Hmmmm... I've literally put a dent into the couch looking up plane tickets, train tickets, train passes, ferries, the Greek islands, the petrified forest of Lesbos, and, of course, the latest in "backpacking through Europe" fashions. I hear khakis and rucksacks are all the rage. Oh, and we were on vacation. But, that vacation isn't nearly as important as the vacation that is coming up in the next month and a half - the vacation to end all vacations, as well as our work contract, so when we get back, we'll be successfully unemployed. That vacation is what I've been concerned with, so much so, that I've made it my personal peroggative to make it the best freaking spring break ever. We're going to fulfill my long-lost dream of being a 19th Century aristocratic young man and visit all of those famous cities in Italy, as well as the cradle of modern civilization and democracy - good, old, Greece. Let's not forget the petrified forests of Lesbos, a fine exemplar of which is pictured above. It looks like a tree, but it is a rock, cause it was a tree a long long time ago. Really, plain words just don't do it justice and I really can't explain why I'd give half a pinkie just to see it in real life. Maybe it's cause one of my friends lives in Arizona and there's a smaller and less fancy petrified forest there, so when I do go visit him, I can lean back while we're having a drink or two, sigh, nod, and say something like "Yeah, the petrified forest is cool, but man, the one on Lesbos, now, that, you gotta see!"

I'm soldes!

The French sales have been going on for almost a month, which means they're coming to a close. The organization of the sales is similar to the social structure of ancient Sparta: everyone does their assigned task for a determined amount of time and all of civilization prospers. The start date is determined every six months and is the same for all of France. It is usually in mid-January (and once again in mid-July), and this year it was the 10th. On the Tuesday before each and every salesperson is frantically putting up sales bins, sales stickers, sales racks, and a million sales signs screaming loudly such eye-grabbing exclamations as "SOLDES!" "SALE!" "SOLDI!" On the Wednesday of the 10th the sun rose over France just as it always does, but by 12 pm the city streets were literally drowned in bustling, busy, goal-oriented shoppers (women) ready to buy up the stuff that had just gone on sale. If you think the day after Thanksgiving is a big deal, you haven't seen a sale in France. Because the sales happen only every six months on the dot, because they are specifically targeted on unloading the fall/winter collections before the spring/summer collection comes out, they are extreme and very, very fun. The sales must be 'real,' as determined by the Prefecture of each city or region. They must include at least a 30% discount of the original price, and they must, MUST, take place if you sell shoes or clothing. That's right, you don't wanna have a sale? You HAVE to. Ha. Anyway, as the sales month continues, more and more discounts occur. What was once 30% off is now 50% and later may be 70%, and finally, if it's not bought, it may be unloaded at a sticker price of 2, 3, or 5 euros. Those last sales are called a 'sweep of the broom,' as to signify the function of the low prices - getting the merchandise out of the store in order to make room for the spring collection. As the sales go on, various stores put up more and more new collection stuff, so going into a store becomes more than just looking for bargains, it can also be a contrast and compare the new spring/summer merchandise of different stores. Fun times. I got much luckier than B. when it came to actually buying things, because men's stores aren't too keen on XS-sized clothing and it is more difficult to buy on sale. My triumphant purchases include suede booties, grey sneakers, jeans, t-shirts, sweatshirt, sweater, light grey capelet, scarf, coat, and a nice 'party' shirt. Wish I could post pictures, but I'll just gloat instead.

Chayanov's on Wikipedia

Hooray! Next up: Sales in France.

The Fêtes of Life

It's been about a month since I've posted anything and a lot has happened since. I had a birthday, a period of beastly mood swings that nicely coincided with a deep distrust and contempt toward some of my students, and a great Christmas / Hannukah. I got a red handbag, a red wallet, and some lavender unmentionables, as well as a a bottle of a perfume I have liked for a long time. It's my first bottle of 'real' perfume - all others have been eau de toilette - and I'm in love. B. was extremely enthusiastic about the holidays and that helped me along into a comfortable place. There were even times when I was giddy and kept begging him to open presents early. He kept his resolve. After Santa's birthday, two of my friends came to visit: one from Puerto Rico and one from Cleveland. It was freezing the night they came, but immediately after the weather got much warmer and all hope for snow was lost. We had a great time nevertheless. Board games, one in particular that we fondly called "baraccuda," was all the rage and we played a couple of rounds every night. We drank, ate chips (thanks to Nicki), and made as many puns as humanly possible. The vacation concluded with a trip to Lille, where it took us two cold, dark hours to find our hotel (in a sort of industrial, shady area) - I thought Nicki was kidnaped or worse when she disappeared for half an hour, but we finally found it. With nothing but an 8 1/2 x 11 sheet with the name of the place nailed to a tree stump between two apartment construction sites, on the other side of some office buildings, sandwiched between a parking lot and the railroad tracks! It was muddy, wet, and very empty on the inside. We barely got in, but the apartment itself was really sweet : a flatscreen TV, a huge bathroom and a big shower, a kitchen with a mini-dishwasher and a microwave, a coffee maker, and even a mop with a bucket. And all that for a stay of 3 days and the price of 15 euros per person per night. Of course getting there was a fucking pain in the ass. The city is decked out for a Bombay festival and there are huge decorated elephant statues on the main street - it's quite a sight. Once we settled in, we met up with a former Lille III student from Chile who is now a Spanish assitant, had spaghetti and got high with a Lilloise who goes to John Caroll (the Jesuit university in Cleve-o), and paid a visit to Wazemmes on Sunday morning, a must for any visit to Lille. Our last night in the city, after a couple of drinks at a faux 'Russian wodka' bar, we went on the huge Ferris wheel that was in the Grand Place - the biggest one I've ever seen or been on. I, of course, screamed like a little girl at the beginning of the ride, but the feeling of "i'm gonna crap in my pants" eventually subsided and gave way to the equivalent of taking a dose of amphetamines. That night we had to say goodbye to the girls and as always, it made me sad to do so. Even though there was a bit of tension between us during this trip, it was an indication that our friendship is evolving, and most of it probably had to do with my hormones. We decided that next time we meet, it'll be in NYC. Monday morning at 6 am, B. and I took a train Lille-Paris and then after switching train stations, another train to Dijon, getting there much earlier than we have been waking up. It was the first day of school.