Phil

While we were entering the track yesterday, we were asked how many Indy 500's we had been to. What a tricky question. This was dad's 41st and Mom's 33rd (nowadays, they're a package deal. He takes pictures for the newspaper and she writes his articles).  This is technically my 6th (and KJ's 7th) but Kaley and I have been coming to Indy since we were babies but we didn't always go to the track.

Instead, as a kid, we would hang out with my cousin Phil. We'd do odd things like build balsa wood bridges, watch (almost) all of the Star Wars movies and he'd teach us how to jump off a diving board. Losing him this week has been difficult for my family. 

Phil was a truly unique fellow. Every Memorial Day weekend, we would travel to Indianapolis to stay with him and his family. I would hear the same stories every year from their childhood. Phil and Dad would reminisce about the cars that they owned/borrowed without asking, talk about race cars and just hang out. Even though they were always the same stories, I never tired of hearing them because both Phil and my Dad would be smiling and telling them with such passion that you could almost imagine being there. Watching Dad this weekend mourn the loss of his friend/family has been extremely difficult. 

For me, Phil was someone who truly cared about me and showed his love on social media. If I ever posted something asking for advice, I could count on Phil. If I ever posted something in celebration, Phil would celebrate with me. Once, a friend posted some inappropriate lyrics to a song on my Facebook while we were out late one night and I woke up at 5AM to a phone call from Phil asking me if I wanted my mother to read my Facebook and then, he lectured me for  10 minutes on the importance of being responsible. My Facebook feels like a different place without Phil.

Tomorrow will be a tough day. Spending the weekend with my cousins and their kids has been incredibly special.   I know that there will be tears tomorrow but I hope there will also be some smiles, some hugs and some stories. This family is very near and dear to me and I pray that they make it through tomorrow feeling loved. In life, I haven't been blessed with an abundance of family that cares for me but Phil and Bev and their kids have always been there (especially every May). 

Phil, I miss you. You were one of the best cousins my Dad's age that I could have asked for. I love you. 

Speechless

There have been so many feelings in my life these past two days that have circulated throughout my head that have left me speechless. This sense of "speechlessness" has left me almost paralyzed in thought when trying to wrap my mind around the events of the world. I'm speechless with too many words. The thoughts that I am feeling over the Terrorist attacks on Paris on Friday, November 13th, 2015 are overwhelming me so much that I am unable to adequately transform these feelings into words that would be sensitive enough for the situation yet at the same time would also truthfully portray them.

I feel proud. I'm proud of the global response in support of the French.

I feel frustrated. I'm mad. I'm so mad that I want to stomp around and shout and yell at the top of my lungs. The part of all of this violence that frustrates me is that I have to have a discussion on senseless violence and terrorists with my sophomore students. Obviously, I'm angry that this discussion has to happen at all with any of my students but my anger resonates for my sophomores who have so much love and excitement for the French culture but have, in their short year and a half of studying the language that I love, have already had a conversation eerily similar to the one that we will be having tomorrow. The idea that this type of attack on Paris is "normal" in the minds of my students makes me angry. I spend my days teaching them the beauty of the language and the culture but it's hard to change their perception that is a normal Friday afternoon when the streets of Paris bleed. I'm frustrated.

I feel sad. I'm heartbroken for the families of all the victims. I'm heartbroken for the people of France who have had their entire lives turned upside down again. I'm sad that there are people who lost loved ones and that there are people who will now be discriminated against more due to having the same color skin or God as the perpetrators. I'm sad that the world has been forced to come together singing refrains of La Marseillaise in order to show solidarity against these terrorists. I'm sad.

I feel guilty. I feel guilty that I feel hurt by this massacre. I'm not French therefore the feeling that my life has been affected in such a way that I feel violated leaves me with pangs of guilt.  I feel guilty that I'm not there in France suffering alongside my friends and my family. I feel guilty that I'm glad that I'm not there. I feel guilty whenever I find myself smiling or laughing. I feel guilty to my life here in the States by feeling guilty for smiling.

I feel afraid. I'm afraid what I would choose to do if I were the one to have the power to make the decisions.

I feel uneasy.

I feel unprepared.

I feel overwhelmed with emotion.

With all of these feelings running around in my head, I'm not sure when these feelings will formulate themselves into politically correct and intelligent sentences. So, for now, I'm speechless.

London Calling

Yesterday, I went on a marvelous day trip to London with my dear friend E. London is just a hop,skip and a jump away from Steeple Bumpstead where I've been spending the past three glorious weeks basking in the cloudy English countryside getting my fill of fish and chips, beans on toast and an occasional cuppa tea. We went into the city pretty inexpensively on a train that took about an hour to get to the heart of London.

The first time that I was in London in the fall, we only had a quick afternoon to rush around and see the sights. This time around, E and I bumbled around  visiting Liz at Buckingham Palace, Big Ben and Westminster Abbey and seeing the dinosaurs at the Natual History Museum. Luckily for us, the sun decided to make an appearance and graced us with its presence for the better part of the afternoon. 

To end our day out in London, we met up with one of my roommates from France, A and grabbed some supper with her and her travel buddy and then completed one of my lifelong dreams of seek Wicked onstage. We had bought 15 pound tickets which were literallythe farthest away that one could possbly be in the theater and then experienced a free 18 row ticket upgrade which was fantastic! It was such a neat show with so many turns and surprises even though I had read the book and knew the music by heart. I teared up several times, laughed my head off and caught myself gazing in wonder at all of the talent (and all of he shiny lights!!). It was magical.

Seeing all of the iconic bits of London that I've only read about or saw on tv was an odd experience. It was as though all of these places were just a 3D version of a very realistic painting or illustration. I feel extremely lucky that I got a chance to see it with my own eyes! I know that I will be back again someday to discover more of the treasures that London has tucked away.

Au Revoir Nancy

Saying goodbye is always difficult, especially when there is uncertainty in regards to the hello again.

I personally hate saying goodbye. The finality in the moments leading up to the end is always full of heaviness and sadness. There isn’t really any way to prepare for the final embrace (almost always full of tears) that is a necessary evil. The end of one adventure is leading up to the start of the next but, the melancholy of leaving lingers around as the bitter in bittersweet just as during the end of the first, the sweetness of the unknown in the next adventure makes it more difficult. Each goodbye needs a moment of mourning for the life that had been known because, regardless of the intentions, life will never be exactly the same as before.

Saying goodbye to Nancy (again) is something that I wasn’t really prepared for. I knew before coming how lovely the city and how welcoming the people were but I was unprepared for the sense of attachement I would feel again. It wasn’t easier to say goodbye the second time. For the past 2 days, I've been trying to come up with adequate words that evoke the emotions that I am feeling and I've been failing miserably. I know that I will always hold Nancy near and dear to my heart and it will be a place that will bring a smile to my face due to all of the beautiful places and the lovely people there. 

Without the  support of my host family, this year would have been much more difficult and probably, more lonely. I was unbelievably lucky in that my assistantship was in the same city that my Rotary Exchange was in. Their unconditional love for me is something that I could never have dreamed of deserving. Sunday lunches at theirs, numerous Rotary outings and visits to the Opera brought more French into my life and gave me moments of being a part of a family during this year abroad where the ability to be in contact with my family was difficult. A very special moment this year was Christmas in which they invited me and my sister into their home and had Christmas dinner with them. They have always been so warm and welcoming and have tried to make me feel at home with them. I'm blessed beyond belief in their love and cherish them dearly. Honestly, I can't imagine my life without my host parents or my host sister.

This time around, an added beloved entity that I was forced to say goodbye to was the community of assistants that I had lived with. I’m not sure that I’ve ever felt such a strong bond of understanding and love as I have with this group of crazy, wonderful, unpredictably predictable group of young anglophones. We had a wonderful year full of shenanigans and I wouldn't change a thing. Saying goodbye was difficult but I know that I'll see them again.

Goodbye sounds so final. Bye bye is too cheerful and informal. Cheerio is too pompous while C ya later makes me think only of alligators.  Jennifer Out is too weird, Peace and love is a bit too hippie and hasta la vista is wrong.

 Nancy, I'll leave you with this; Au Revoir.

Place Stanislas

The white cobblestone in uniformly uneven squares sprawling around the regal likeness of the Duke of Lorraine surrounded by the elegant façades of the various cafés, museums, city hall and Opera set the mood in one of my favorite places on Earth: Place Stanislas.

Place Stan is one of those places that no matter the weather or the time of day, will brighten your spirits. The serene atmoshphere of the spacious square is overwhelmingly calming and soothing and will never cease to call to me in its sheer wonderfulness.





Place Stanislas is one of the things in Nancy that makes this city come alive and feel like home to me. Whenever my feet cross over the vast square, there is a stillness that comes over my heart and, even if it is just the slightest bit, it brings me some peace. It is a wonderful place to spend quiet moments to yourself people watching from the edges or a joyful glass of panaché (or wine or coke or a diabolo or ice cream) amongst friends. Place Stan brings out the happiness in every moment spent there and I know that I will always cherish the wonderful memories and will always long to to be encompassed by it's majestic beauty and amidst it's borders.



Place Stanislas holds for me so many wonderful memories with some wonderful people. I've been caught numerous times in it's center under the pouring rain and couldn't help but to laugh and dance around enjoying the beauty that surrounded me. Many a time have I danced in circles with my arms out wide enjoying the wonder that this square has and always will hold for me. It's the place (punny, I know) that I long to bring my parents to so that they can finally see it's beauty. I know that while I won't be able to see it as often, I will return to enjoy it. Basking in the warm sunlight or shivering amongst friends in the rain, regardless of anything else, my heart will always be at home on the Place Stanislas.

P.S. Just for the record, Place Stanislas was voted the fourth most beautiful square in the world! It also boasts a live webcam where you can see in real time for yourself it's charm and wonder!

Last day of School

Today was my last day of school. I can't believe how fast these past 7 months have gone! Saying goodbye to my students and the teachers at my school was both sad and awkward (what do you say to people that you know that you will most likely never see again? Have a nice life?). I have really enjoyed being able to give the gift of a foreign language to my students. Most of all though, they'v'e given me so much joy, laughter and fun times that most of the time, I forgot that I was even at work.

One of the most unique parts of my assistantship was the school that I was placed in itself. Being one of only 3 immersion schools in France, Jean Jaurès in Nancy is so unique in the system that most French people that I now are unawere that it even exists. The fact that it is a public school where the students (as of now) who are in the first, second and third grades spend half of their hours learning in English made being at JJ so easy and interesting! I'm sad to leave my students and their wonderful teachers who welcomed me with open arms and who were so wonderful to work with!

I'm going to miss being called Jenny-fur, the way that my students answered "I'm happy" when asked how they were, being a mini celebrity on the playground, being asked to play hopscotch by students who didn't speak English almost every recess, being tackled by one particular student in a huge bear hug every time she saw me, the way that the students mimicked almost everything I said (especially "goodness gracious"), and most of all, the chorus of "Hello Jenny-fur" that rang through the class whenever I walked in the room. These children have really made it difficult to say goodbye and I know that I will always look back on this year and feel blessed.

On my last day of class, I went to the swimming pool (where one student happened to have an accident and for the second time of my life, I've had poop on my leg), read 2 stories to my classes, got numerous hugs from a few students before telling them it was my last day, got a HUGE bear hug from the majority of my class, was greeted with lots of groans and boos when they found out I wasn't coming back from vacation and had a little boy tear up after realizing I was leaving. It was a lovely day that reinforced the wonderful feelings of this year that I've been having. While I'm sad to leave JJ, I'm excited to go forth on my journey in life and will forever hold this experience near and dear to my heart.

La Bise

Anyone who would like to Bise me is more than welcome
but I can't promise that it won't be without
a few nose bumps!

To any traveler from the US coming to France, one of the most offsetting things that is almost impossible to get used to is La Bise (the typical way of greeting one another by touching cheeks sometimes with your lips, making kissing noises which sometimes are real). It's both a way to say hello and a way to say goodbye and is experienced by everyone in the room whether you're 2 or 20. It's something that I still have a hard time figuring out completely. I have recently come to terms with the fact that kissing acquantainces will never come naturally to me.

La bise is a cultural phenomena that is so puzzling to try and figure out that I typically just stand with my eyes closed and wait for the other person to move around and kiss my cheeks in the way that is natural for them. To be completely honest, closing my eyes is something that doesn't help the ease of flow of the greeting and oftentimes causes more commotion than I bargained for (accidental lip brushings aren't unheard of to the French and that is with them having their eyes open!). To the French, it's an unspoken art to decipher the perfect bise because every region has a little different way of greeting each other. Differences like the number of kisses (varying between 2 and 4), which side to start on and the usage of lips or not make doing la bise as a foreigner almost impossible.

If you ask a French person, they will tell you that to them, hugging someone is a much bigger invasion of personal space and much more intimate than kissing someone on the cheek because of the closeness of the entire body during a hug. In the same way, to someone from the States, kissing as a greeting is much more intimate as it involves lips and the area near one's mouth. It's interesting to me that both cultures feel as though their way is the more conservative way to greet. I'm not sure exactly where I stand on this when it comes to the intimacy level (the French way will always be foreign but beautiful and the US way will be familiar and unexotic) but I do know that I enjoy both.

As someone from the US who isn't too well versed in the art of saying hello by kissing everyone in the room, I recognize the beauty in the major cultural differences in the way people greet each other but am also painfully aware that I wasn't born a kisser. I will continue to la bise for politeness and will certainly miss the greeting upon my departure from France but will forever hold the memories of messed up bises in my heart (most memorably my first kiss that was experienced by accident with an 80 year old man much to my chagrin 5 years ago!).