You Gotta Have Friends...

So I'm up in the Twin Cities at my dad's house and I had the chance to meet up with my old friend Kevin on Wednesday night. As usual, I spent a good part of the evening trying to keep up with all of his questions…it can be kind of like a firing squad! Throughout the course of the evening Kevin posed questions like, “Where do you see yourself in 3 years?” and “Have you ever seen a real act of violence?” and “Can you really express yourself in French?” “Who are your real friends?” and “What is the coolest US city?” Sheesh!

The question about ‘real friends’ kinda stuck with me and I’ve been thinking about it today. What does that mean? Who is a ‘real’ friend? I’ve also been mulling over something else he said about how maybe we have a little window of openness and it happens when we are in our early 20s and then as time passes we become more and more closed, it becomes harder to connect with people, we become less willing (able?) to adapt to others. Most of the people I consider my ‘real’ and ‘best’ friends are in fact people I met in my early 20s, while I was in college. Why is that? Kevin asked if maybe those people feel like my ‘real’ friends because I have a history with them…and I suppose there is something to that, but I really believe that it’s something more. I don’t have any really, really close friends from high school…why not? If history was all it took, then I have that with them. Why aren’t we close? Maybe there is something to this idea of ‘openness’…maybe in our early 20s we are all very malleable, and since none of us have very clear ideas of who we are or where we are headed, maybe we are ready to embrace each other and figure it out together.

I don’t like the idea that I might be ‘closing’ with age. I don’t like the idea that maybe there was a little window of opportunity to make my ‘real’ friends and that it came and went in my early 20s. But maybe there’s some truth to that? Maybe with each passing year we get a little bit more set in our ways, and a little bit more comfortable in our routines and maybe it just gets harder and harder to give someone new a chance.

Living abroad puts another interesting spin on the whole post-college social life. In the beginning, I couldn’t speak the language and I made friends with other English speakers. I made friends with people who maybe weren’t ‘my type’… people who I probably never would have made friends with in college. Sometimes it didn’t really work out and we both knew that we were just hanging out together because the pickings were pretty slim. Other times I’ve been really surprised…someone who seems kind of shy and mousey can turn out to be so witty and fun, someone who seems really abrasive and stuck up, can turn out to be smart, funny and generous, and so on. The circumstances of living abroad have challenged me to think and rethink my opinions of people, to give people first and second and third chances, and to maintain a kind of ‘openness.’ I’ve made some really good friends and met some really interesting people, almost in spite of myself.

If being friends has something to do with having a ‘history’ together, then I think it must have a lot more to do with WHAT you share in that time rather than how much time you share. My friends who were with me in college were with me during my metamorphosis between childhood and adulthood. They were with me when I realized I wanted to be an actor. They were with me when I first went to live outside of the US. They were with me when I fell in love and when I had my heart broken. I think that no matter where I live and no matter where I go, no one could replace those friends because of what we shared. We shared “college” and 18 to 22 and Iowa City. Those first years of freedom are so intoxicating…it’s a pretty thrilling emotional/social rollercoaster ride. Going through that with someone brings you closer together.

I’ve shared something else with the friends I’ve made in Paris. With my American friends I’ve shared the experience of being on the outside and slowly trying to break in and understand a different language, culture, world. We’ve shared being poor. We’ve shared the questions, disbelief, pride, confusion and sometimes even guilt trips from friends and family back in the US. We’ve shared the beauty of Paris, the enchantment of the city, the depressing grey winters, the little battles and victories revolving around visas and paperwork and navigating French administration.

Making French friends isn’t easy. Of course, people were always nice to me…but to make real friends across a language barrier is pretty hard. People can include you and invite you along…but it takes a lot to get over being the ‘cute little foreigner who says cute little things in her cute little accent.’ But those lingual and cultural barriers are definitely not insurmountable…and there are even situations where it isn’t a question of breaking down barriers because there is a connection that is bigger and more important than language and culture. Bruno has become one of my best friends and he loves me, accepts me and understands me, language and culture aside.

It’s time for me to head to bed, now, and I still have all of these thoughts swirling around inside my head. I’m not sure if when we are younger we are more open and therefore better at making friends and if it gets harder with age. I think friendships are as valuable as the moments you have shared together. Friendships are what you make of them. As I drift off to sleep, one thing is clear: I feel very lucky to have quite a few people I can call ‘real’ friends.

A Tale of Two (Crazy) Cities

So, I had the great pleasure of getting to see my good friend Terra twice in one year! She came to visit with our friend Courtney for a couple of weeks last February/March and she came back through Paris in December on her way back to the US after spending several months in the UK. We were having a little talk about which city had more ‘crazies’ either New York or Paris. New York seemed to be in first place…Terra told me a gem of a story, which happened to her last spring and really seemed to argue in favor or New York. After a very emotionally trying couple of days, Terra found herself feeing very fragile and riding the New York subway. A Puerto Rican man got into the train car and instead of singing or playing an instrument for some spare change he just played a beat up little boom box…which blasted typical (or maybe just stereotypical) Puerto Rican music. Even in the midst of her pain, Terra saw the humor in this and in return for the little boost in her spirits, she dove into her purse and pulled out a big fistful of change. She dropped about $4 worth into his little cup as he passed. He stopped and looked into his cup and when he spotted a penny in the mix he plucked it out and chucked it at Terra’s head screaming, “What the f*** am I gonna do with a penny, b****?!?!?”

Wait, what?! Now that IS crazy!

After hearing that story, I decided that New York pretty much took the cake as far as the crazies were concerned.

Oooppppsss. Not so fast. Paris had a little surprise up her sleeve. Terra, Bruno and I were out to lunch on Saturday when a woman in an oversized puffy white coat came into the restaurant to sit at the table next to ours. Our first ‘clue’ that she was maybe a bit kooky came right off the bat: instead of taking off her coat and sitting down, she asked the waitress to lift her coat off over her head for her. Mmmmm. Okay. Well, maybe her arms were stiff? I tried to let it slide. Bruno headed home before us and Terra and I stayed to finish our coffees and that is when things took a turn for the worse….or the ‘weirder’ in any case. Terra got up to head for the bathroom and as soon as I was alone the woman turned to me…

Woman: I have a strong desire to write. I must write. But I don’t have any paper. Do you have any paper?

Tina: Ummm…I don’t think so. Let me look…

(I start to dig in my bag and in doing so I pull out my agenda/address book)

Woman: NO! NO! Don’t destroy your agenda! Don’t! It’s okay!

(I was never planning on destroying my agenda)

Tina: Sorry. I don’t have any. Maybe you could use the back of your placemat?

(She looks at her paper placemat, turns it over to reveal the blank white backside.)
Woman: THANK YOU. THANK YOU.

At this point Terra came back from the bathroom and I reluctantly went off myself…feeling guilty like I was throwing Terra to the wolves. Terra’s interaction with the women went like this:

The woman gets up to stand in front of our table.
Woman: Can I ask you a personal question about myself?

Terra thinks: Ummm…I don’t really know. Can you?
Terra says: Ummm….Sure!

Woman: I used to weigh 185 pounds and I lost 40 pounds. And I want to know…do I look good to you?

(The woman clearly weighs at least 185 pounds NOW.)

Terra thinks: 185lbs?!?! Yeah right!
Terra says: Ummm…Yeah!

The woman lifts her shirt to expose lots of big fat tummy rolls.
The woman starts to flap and shake said rolls, waving them at Terra.

Woman: How do you call this in English?

Terra thinks: Um…Fat rolls.
Terra says: Ummm…your stomach?

Woman: YES! My stomach. I must lose my stomach so I can look how I did when I was 18.

At this point the woman stopped jiggling her fat and returned to her table, only to pull out her purse full of wares and start trying to sell rings and watches to Terra.

Woman: I’ve got Swatch. Even Rolex. I have a special deal with the designers. I know Dolce and Gabbana.

Tina and Terra think: Um…Sure you do, lady.
Tina and Terra say: No thank you.

Luckily by this point we had our bill and we fled to the bar to pay up and get out of there.

So, Terra and I escaped the crazy fat roll lady but we were left with out lingering question…which city has more crazies? I told the story to my friend Kevin, who has lived in Paris and spent some time in New York…his verdict was that New York has MORE crazies but Paris has BETTER crazies. Well…that just might be the case!



Uh-oh...looks like there is one more 'crazy' to add to the list...

The American Dream

This summer I went home to Minnesota as usual, but this time I brought Bruno with me. This was Bruno's first trip to the land of the red, white and blue....er...well, I guess the French flag is red, white and blue.....so, it was his first trip to the land of stars and stripes! I think Bruno must have felt like he was the new attraction at the museum. When we were in restaurants my dad would tell the waitresses, 'This is my daughter and this is her boyfriend Bruno visiting us from France.' The waitress would invariably turn to us with wide eyes and ask, 'Whoa, so you like SPEAK French?!?!' Um. Yeah. He's French. Anyway, I thought this was all pretty funny at first but before I knew it I found myself getting caught up in the fun... We were down by the Lake Minnetonka having dinner and this big old-fashioned ferry came pulling up by the restaurant. We went down to have a look at it...my family was all explaining to Bruno how the ferry was from 1904 and that it was reaaalllly old. ( Ha! Bruno's parent's house is from 1677!) We went down near it and were kind of poking around and a lady gave us a look that said "What are you kids doing down here?" and I blurted, "He's French! This is his first time in America and his first time seeing a big boat!" The lady's face broke into a smile, "Weeellll! My boy works on this boat, why don't you hop on and have a look around!" She poked her head into the boat and started calling her son, "Brad, this boy is from FRANCE! He's gonna come look around the boat! He's from FRAAANCE, okay?!" And the next thing we knew we were wandering around the boat and checking out the old-fashioned steam engine!

Especially during the beginning of the trip, I kept waiting for him to be really shocked or excited or appalled or amazed by something. I kept showing him things and being like…’WHOA! Bruno isn’t this WEIRD!?!’ But he just didn’t really seem that freaked out. “Bruno…THIS is a DORITO!” “Bruno…THIS is a homemade cookie!” “Bruno…THIS is American TV!” "Bruno...this is a TANK near the high school where my mom works!" “Bruno…we call this POP and you can drink as much as you want because there are FREE REFILLS!” He liked Doritos (though was a bit baffled by the orange residue left on his fingers), he adored homemade cookies, he thought American TV was okay but had way too many commercial breaks, we were BOTH freaked out by the tank, and never even came close to needing one of those ‘free refills’ because he never managed to finish his first gigantic beverage serving…but all in all, he seemed to be taking everything totally in stride.

After the first couple of weeks, I stopped trying to freak him out. Sure, he noticed the differences…he was surprised to see drive thru teller windows for the banks and also surprised by the number of flags that were on display at people’s homes, in shops, on cars, etc. but in general he just seemed to be very accepting of things. Then one night we stopped to get a movie at Hollywood Video and got to talking about how it’d be great to eat a little ice cream while we watched the movie. It was about 10:30pm and I whipped us into the Byerly’s grocery store parking lot. Bruno gave me a puzzled look and asked, ‘What are you doing?” At which point I gave him a puzzled look and said, “Getting ice cream. I thought you wanted some too?’ He said, “Yeah, but…” and trailed off in his confusion. I looked at him and said, “It’s 24 hour.” This is when Bruno started to get a crazy look in his eyes. “Twenty-four hour? Twenty-four hour? Twenty-four hours a day?!?!?!? Like we can go in there NOW?!?! We could go in there at three in the morning if we wanted to??!?!?!?’ Now, to help you appreciate Bruno’s enthusiasm, I must tell you that grocery stores in France are only open until about 7:30pm and they are closed on Sundays. Sot that means that when you are heading home from work at 7pm with everyone else you have to first fight them in the public transportation and then fight them in the little tiny grocery store to try to get down the aisles that are really only wide enough for one person and THEN wait in a huge line at the check out because there is usually only one or two check out lanes. It is a disaster and is, understandably, one of Bruno’s least favorite places.

So, I had finally stumbled across the one thing that seemed to shake Bruno to his core: 24 hour grocery stores. He pranced up to the automatic sliding doors, gleefully calling to me, “This is amazing! I would never shop during the day again! I would come get my groceries at 3am! There would be nobody here! Vive l’Amérique!” When I finally caught up to him in the ice cream aisle he had a crazy look in his eyes and he was holding little cartons of Ben & Jerry’s, Haagen Dazs and The Dreamery and frantically reading the labels, “Caramel chunks or caramel swirls? Caramel chunks or caramel swirls?”

In the end we wound up with some Ben & Jerry’s which made Bruno’s night, and I wound up with the satisfaction of seeing him really, truly surprised by something in the ole U.S. of A!

Joyeux Noel and Merry Christmas!

I am home for the holidays, once again! I got back into town, after almost exactly 24 hours of traveling, on Wednesday night at midnight CST. It is great to be back in ole Lake Crystal. It isn’t actually too cold and for once there is no snow on the ground...it sounds like we are headed for a record breaking latest snow. Theresa is home from Iowa, Angie is here from Milwaukee with her fiancé, Greg, and of course Mom and Jim are here, too. Oh, and let's not forget our dog Sam, who managed to gobble up 3 dozen of the peanut butter cookies I made this morning. Yup, we're all here. I'll see my dad and Patti on the 27th...they are just getting back from India! My dad sent an email letting me know that he has finally figured out how Santa does it...he starts in the East and moves West. As my dad and Patti have been slowing flying back to the US they have technically been on 'Christmas Eve' for about 44 hours!!

It's always good to be home and I got a chance to make it over to Katie and Tony's place for a little Christmas party on Friday night. They are two old high school friends...and it was great to see them and everyone there. I have to admit though, I was surprised at how 'domestic' it all was. Of course, when I get together with my friend in Paris we have cocktails and wine and everyone chats about work and there are dips and sweets and little hors d'oeuvres. But I was just a little surprised to see my rowdy high school friends doing the same. I guess everybody is 'growing up' with or without me around. It was funny, I was almost a little nervous to go since I don't see my high school friends very often any more...and I just didn't know what to expect, what I would say, etc. But the second I got in the door I felt right at home and found that it was great to see old friends and laugh about old times and to catch up on what's been going on. We're all scattered off in the world, some around here where we grew up, some up in the Twin Cities, or around other cities around the Midwest or even further...but it is fun when we all get together because it reminds me where I came from and that Lake Crystal and all the people I grew up with are a part of me and in my heart no matter where I go.

Sometimes the holidays get so busy and hectic that they are over before we know it...so as you all go home for the holidays and see friends and family again, I hope that you can take time to relax and enjoy it.

Merry Christmas and happy holidays!
Lots of love and best wishes,
Tina

Rude Awakening

A terrible thing happend to me this morning. I dreamed that I woke up and looked at my clock and it said 5:57...and I was so happy because that meant I could sleep for another hour and 18 minutes. And in the dream, just as I was snuggling back down into my warm comfy bed and happily rolling into position to doze back off for that luxurious and badly needed extra 1 hour and 18 minutes of sleep...I was bolted awake by my real alarm. Cruel, ain't it? Now, I know I am from Minnesota and am considered a girl from the northland...but Paris is actually about 15 degrees further north than Minneapolis and in the winter it shows. Not by the temperature, but by the day light....the sun rises at 8:40am here!



I saw a beautiful sun rise on my way to work...and I didn't even have to be there until 9am!!

Bienvenue to my blog!!!

Bienvenue and Welcome to my blog!! I have been wanting to do this for such a long time and am happy to be finally getting around to it.



Paris is a beautiful city. I took this photo of the back of Notre Dame cathedral and the Eiffel Tower as I was walking back to the subway after eating out for my birthday. The beauty of Paris just kind of sneaks up on you!

This first post is just going to be a little introduction to my life over here. Paris is divided into numbered neighborhoods, called arrondissements, and I live in number 10. The 10th arrondissement is what is called a "quartier populaire"- or "a people's neighborhood." That means there are lots of families and little shops, and people who are living out their everyday lives. It isn't a tourist neighborhood it's just 'real Paris', which is one of my favorite things about it!

Here is a picture from our apartment.



We really like it even though it's small. Everything in Paris is kind of miniature, actually. There are rules about how high buildings can be in the city...it is only like 6 or 7 stories. So, more and more people want to live in Paris but they can't build up...so they divided and re-divide the space they have and rent and property is very expensive. I don't mind having a small place, it is comfy and cozy. The only thing that I REALLY miss is an American style kitchen....oh, how I dream of counter space and dishwashers and real ovens.

We live on the rue du faubourg Saint Martin which is a nice and lively street...



Literally just down stairs there are several bakeries (i.e. ready access to more croissants, fresh bread and pastries than anyone should ever eat!), a couple 'fromageries' or cheese shops, several grocery stores, a couple of butchers, some little boutiques, a couple of rotisserie chicken places, several fruits and veggies markets...



... a flower shop...



...and tons of little cafés, bars and restaurants.



So, I think I'll leave it at that for today. Just a little introduction to where I live and to my blog.
Thanks so much for stopping by. I hope to have another post up very soon!

The Language of Luuuuuv

I think that as Americans, we definitely have some romantic notions when it come to France, the French language, French food and wine and just French culture in general. As Americans, when we say 'rendez-vous', 'oh la la!' or 'risqué' we have images of lovers and and black lace dancing in our heads. But in France a 'rendez-vous' is just a meeting...I plan a rendez-vous with my boss or a client for 10am at the office. In French 'Oh la la!' just means 'whoa.' So of course it could be used for a pretty girl, but it could also be used when you see some crazy old lady whacking who appears to be her husband with her umbrella and screaming "Don't rush me, Pierre!" You witness a scene like that and you exchange a glance with your friends that means "Get a load of that whacked out old granny!" and you mutter under your breath "oh la la!" In French "Risqué" just means dangerous or 'risky'...I had all of my groceries in one plastic sack, but decided to double bag it beacuse using just the one sack seemed at bit 'risqué.' And (sorry to disappoint you, boys!) all of the cleaning ladies I have seen, or the so-called 'French maids', wear flip-flops and over-sized button-up smocks over their clothes so they don't stain them with cleaning products.

Still, all that being said, love is definitely in the air over here. Cafés are always full of lovers huddled together over tiny tables, sidewalks are full of pairs walking arm-in-arm and there does seem to be an unusually high number of lingerie shops. A couple weeks ago I read an article with several different students called "Candid Camera at the Drive-Thru." The article talked about the new fast food drive-thru technology that took your picture at the order point and then used your picture to match your order with you once your food was ready. It was supposed to cut down on botched orders, but the article asked if it wasn't maybe a bit 'big brother-ish' to have your picture taken everytime you swung in for a burger and fries. I asked my various students what they thought about this, and every single one of them said: "What if they took your picture at the drive-thru and you were there with your lover???" I had to laugh at this, because as an American my first thoughts were, "What if I was sneaking off to McDonalds for a milkshake and fries when I supposed to be at work?" and "Then they would have a record of what I ordered and how many times in a week! If I ordered two milkshakes and a giant fries, they would see that I was ALONE in my car!!!"

Another fine example has cropped up more than once between me and my boyfriend, Bruno. Any time we have two things and we put them together, I say, "Look! Now they can be friends!" It is all about the 'friends' for me. We both have the same Mac PowerBook laptop, and when I moved in I put my laptop on the desk next to his and happily proclaimed, "Look! Now they can be friends!" At the same time as Frenchy happily proclaimed, "Look! Now they can make love!" Ah! I was shocked! "Heeeey. You stop that. They are being FRIENDS!" I said. And he just smiled and gave me a knowing look, as if to say, "Okay, my little Puritain. You can go ahead and think that, if you want."

My friend Shelli was teaching English in a middle school in the north of France last year and she told me that for Halloween she had her students draw little characters, like ghosts or monsters or vampires, and then write out their charcter's daily routine. One of her middle schoolers said, "At 3 o'clock, the vampire eats the chocolate. At 4 o'clock the vampire loves." ("At dree o' clock, ze vampiiirrrre eat ze shocola. At four o'clock ze vampiiirrre luuuvs.") Well, Shelli and her American sensibilities didn't actually grasp right away what he was getting at. Um, yes. Well, I guess in France even the vampires are romantics.