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!).

To Close the P or not to Close the P: A Question of Penmanship

I found this on a blog online but we definitely have one of these charts in my classroom!

Ever since I stumbled into this beautiful country 7 years ago during a high school trip, the French handwriting is something that has puzzled, entranced and eventually, converted me to it's dark side. Coming from a place where each individual is as different as the way they write their a's (like a or like an o with a stem), the indoctrination of an entire country in it's singular handwriting style is as perplexing as it is thought-provoking. To me, it seems as though the strictness in the formation of letters is representative to the freedom of individuality of each country; The US values individual freedoms and the beauty in diversity hence more individual writing styles whereas in France, there is more pressure to be the same and a general attitude of assimilating into one common culture which explains the rigorous writing rules.

While I can't speak for everyone in the US, I know that my handwriting has evolved so much during my short 23 years on this Earth. My handwriting (before coming back to the land of cheese) was a mixture of a bit of stiff cursive, curly print and looping l's and t's. My r's weren't uniform, constantly changing from print to cursive depending on the previous letter and my f's had become nothing more than 2 odd loops on top of one another. Each year of my childhood (which I count up through College lol) brought slight changes to my writing, partially becoming more lazy/wanting to strike out and wither be different or to mimic the cool kids writing. Now, after 7 months of assisting in a classroom where letter height and shape has been one of the most important things, it's lost touch with itself and has become a messy version of the French penmanship that my students who are 6 are able to master.

My students (again, they are 6 years old) are expected to write with a blue pen ALL OF THE TIME except to draw the equals sign in math and to draw in art, write IN CURSIVE perfect letters, perfectly shaped at the perfect height and write on lines that are difficult even for me to fit my letters on! They impress me so much with their discipline and their ability to remember exactly which letter get a supplementary loop (b,o,r,v, and w) and which letters are 3 spaces tall (b,f,h,k,l,p,q, and z). They snicker at my writing on the board and constantly ask me "What does zis say?" in regards to the letters I've written instead of the meaning of a phrase in a foreign language. They're penmanship is daunting and impressive yet scary at the same time. From the time they are 6 (when I met them in October of their first year of school CP, they basically knew what they were doing) until they die, their handwriting will be exactly the same.

No matter how much I've become accustomed to the meticulous French scribbles (which is basically a sacrilege in and of itself to call it scribbles), I will never become used to the way that the French write their P's. They don't close them. As in, a p is basically an n with a long stem. I vowed in the beginning of the year that I wouldn't let myself become influenced to not close my p's but here we are in April and I've realized that I've started to write my p's  à la française. Maybe I'm not as strong as I had imagined to withstand peer pressure (and when I say peer I definitely mean my 6 year olds...).

I'm not sure what my handwriting will look like tomorrow, in a couple of months or later in life but I do know that I feel blessed that I have the choice as to what it will look like and won't be chastized for the way that I make my 9's or my 7's. My personality is a little bit too wild to limit the number of spaces high my H can go or to limit my t being crossed only half of the way. I feel as though part of my soul bursts out of my pen and onto the paper (both in the words that I write and the way that they're written) and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Easter Joy

Easter has always been one of the most special days for me. In addition to the glorious gift of eternal life, it is generally a day full of joy, laughter and family. Easter equals life. It's a new beginning for everyone. It's the start of the awareness that this beautiful second chance was gifted upon you without having been capable of doing anything to deserve it. For me, it inspires me to strive to be the best sister I can to all who I meet and to live a life of putting others first. No matter the weather, Easter is a beautiful reminder of the joy of Spring.

Yesterday was a day that started with the  initial joy of Easter in my heart upon waking up, then feelings of melancholy and sadness arose from the separation from my loved ones that promptly turned back around into feelings of love and peace during moments of community with my friends in the sunshine all while the refrains of "Christ the Lord is Risen Today" and "Thine be the Glory" (in both French and English) danced around my head and out of my mouth. Joyous adventures filled my day from  Mass, while lightheaded with stars dancing in my eyesight due to an allergic reaction of the incense, my mind began to wander slightly to a ride on the Scrambler in an Easter dress brought an extreme case of the giggles everytime the ride zipped around and my dress flew up in the air but the best part of my day was seeing and experiencing the smiles on the faces of my friends (whether they were shared in Place Stanislas around a glass of wine or were a pixelated image on a computer screen during a skype call). All in all, my Easter was grand.

Throughout my entire life, Easter has been a celebration of life and family. The sheer thought of it at any moment of the year brings the edges of my lips into a smile and brings me peace. Beautiful moments spent in the sunshine of my Aunt and Uncle's home with flowers blooming all around and Easter baskets (filled with oddities such as plastic alligators and tootsie roll banks), the off-tune yet joyous voices of my dear brothers and sisters in Christ around a campfire during the sunrise filling the hillside with a hearty chorus of "Alleluia,"and countless Easter hams, (dropped) bunny cakes and left yellow centers of hard boiled Easter eggs give Easter such life and meaning in my life. While yesterday wasn't spent at the cross during the sunrise service or with any of my family members around a traditional Easter table, my Easter still turned out to be one full of wonder and excitement. I spent it  basking in the Sonlight (I'm punny) and bringing joy to those around me. To me, that's the Reason for the Season.

Well now they know (that I'm obsessed with Frozen and can't Let it Go)

There are few times in life that a piece of art will completely change your outlook on life. Oftentimes, they will peacefully insert themselves in the way of a tune that won't get out of your head or a tranquil landscape that is ever present when you close your eyes for a quiet moment. Alright, I can't hold it back anymore... Here I stand in the light of day admitting that this piece of art is none other than the movie Frozen (okay, right after the Sound of Music but I thought that was a given).

I first was introduced to Frozen at the cinema with my little sister. I am so blessed that we both saw the magic that is Frozen in French for the first time together. It's such a sister movie. Every time Frozen comes up in my daily life, I'm taken back to the initial viewing full of funny one liners, beautiful princesses (and a Queen), and tear-jerking moments that we didn't see coming (that even now, after having seen the movie itself at least 6 times still get me every time...). It's so special that we shared that moment together and I'm grateful for it everyday. I look forward to being with her again to watch where there'll be magic, there'll be fun.

No matter how much my friends want me to Let it Go, this fascination with Frozen is one that isn't waning. It is such a special movie and soundtrack that it is constantly floating through my head, out through my lips and belted into the world around me. I can't help but to dance to it with my entire body, almost all of the time. I've noticed around me that whenever the lyrics "Let it go, let it go" come out of anyone's mouth, their arms automatically shoot out from their sides and rise like the break of dawn in a way that is both sassy and powerful (myself definitely included). It brings happiness and joy to my life.

The frenzy that is Frozen on facebook with all of the silly covers, inspirational covers, memes and even the rants make me smile. The community that I feel with anyone who appreciates this movie is so great that it makes me a bit like crazy! So, if you're possibly reading this because you click on anything Frozen on your newsfeed, I'm honored and also, I would like to tell you that I understand the obsession that is Frozen...

This movie is one that overall, inspires me. For the First Time in Forever, I feel as though I've been moved through music to be a better person, friend and sister. So for now, instead of ignoring it, I'm going to let the storm rage on and shout my obsession with Frozen to everyone who will listen (which more often than not is my roommates who have experience the over 1000 play count that is Let it Go on my itunes). I couldn't keep it in, Heaven knows I've tried; this movie makes me happy.

I don't care what they're going to say, I am completely aware that it looks like I'm the queen of Frozen.

Just Keep Swimming

This week has definitely been the week of the swimming pool. Most people who know me know that I'm not the most graceful or the most confidant swimmer so it obviously makes sense that out of all of the assistants, I'm the one asked to assist my 6 year old class with their swimming lessons. I made sure to alert all of the people that I work with that I don't really know how to swim very well and that I'm not very comfortable in the water and the response that I got every single time was, "mais non, ça va aller"(in English, ah, it'll be fine).

In order to mentally prepare for the ordeal that would be swimming with 20 beginner level 6 year olds, I decided to go to the pool to get a jump start. Thankfully, my dear mom sent my bathing suit to me in February so I was almost ready to get in the water. In France, one HAS to wear a swim cap in the pool. Also, if you are a man, you aren't allowed to wear trunks. (no, unfortunately that doesn't mean that they swim naked. They basically all wear speedos). Once at the pool, you walk to these little changing rooms that are very difficult to lock (couldn't figure them out and just had to pray no one walked in for at lease 2 visits to the pool...). Then you go and take a compulsory shower and are ready to get in the water.

I remember the culture shock that I experienced when I was on my exchange 5 years ago when I first walked into the swimming pool. I didn't own a swim cap, couldn't really swim very well and definitely didn't know where to look with so many men in speedos everywhere. This week, after having to help my French students put on their swim caps (it's a  learned skill), start on their journey of swimming and still, absolutely not knowing where to look in the pool when it comes to guys and no trunks (especially when those guys are my 6 year old students who have issues when it comes to not putting their hands down their pants), I have come to appreciate the French swimming pool and all of it's quirks.

No Substitute, No Problem

For Thanksgiving, I baked homemade pumpkin pies.
You can see how well they liked them...

On Thursday, I became a full on teacher for the day. I am currently working in the class with the 6 year olds and the teacher had to go to Paris for the day for a Conference. Instead of getting a substitute, the obvious solution was that I would become the teacher. Without any real credentials, I was thrown into the situation of being responisble for 40 French children (luckily only 20 in the morning and 20 in the afternoon!). Overall, taking into account that they are 6, I'm only allowed to speak English and I'm not actually trained to be a teacher, it was a success!
     If a teacher is absent from school in the US, there will always be a substitute. I honestly cannot remember a single day where there was no sub brought into the school. Here in France, I was told that most of the time, there is no sub. Instead, they take the children and split them up between the different classes and have them sit and do busy work in the extra chairs of the other teachers. The children aren't allowed to talk, ask questions or move. They must just do the work that the teacher gave them. If the teacher is sick or an emergency arose and didn't have a chance to give some papers to the students, they're given a sheet of blank paper and that is supposed to suffice them for the time until the break (around an hour and fifteen minutes).

View of the 1st grade classroom

     Thursday, I took advantage of having no teacher telling me exactly what I'm allowed and not allowed to do to spend more time hanging out with the kids students. I tried my hardest to follow the routine of a typical school day which goes like this...

     8:35-9:45 School starts. I have class A in the morning and we do things like the day of the week, the weather and the temperature (which honestly, I didn't know how to tell because I've never read a thermometer that was just Celcius before. I just smiled and nodded lol). Then we reviewed some vocabulary, did a paper about phonics (sounding out different words) and a paper on habitats before the recess.

     9:45-10:15 RECESS. The students get a break from morning classes and go outside and run around like crazy people! Honestly, I'm surprised that there isn't more supervision/rules! At least 3 people bleed every recess!

     10:15-11:15 Math review. We reviewed things like doubles, the difference between thirty and thirteen (it keeps me on my toes with proper pronunciation!!) and shapes. Then we split into 4 centers to continue working on groups of 10, shapes, more and less and patterns.

11:15-11:35 We regrouped on the carpet where we sang a couple of songs and I read a story.

11:35-1:35 LUNCH BREAK! Lots of French students go home during this and eat lunch with their families. If not, they eat lunch at school in the cantine (where they spend at least 1 hour in the lunchroom).

School started again at 1:35 and we switched classes so that Class A went to the French teacher's classroom and I took Class B and did the exact same things with them as we did in the AM class. By 4:35, I was exhausted, my voice a bit raspy from repeating to be quiet but I felt fulfilled that I was able to help my students. Honestly, I love my job so much and am so happy to have had this experience working with French children!

Recess yard. That's right, no grass...

Here are some observations that I have made about French elementary schools...

-Schools do not have a lot of money. There isn't a computer in every room. There isn't even internet in the rooms at my school. There is 1 laptop that is shared with the WHOLE school. The map that is used in the 2nd grade room is so old that the USSR and Yugoslavia are still on it...
-There are no parent volunteers. Teachers have to do everything themselves.
-French students are much neater and have a lot more responsibility than children in the US. They love to give the kids things to cut and paste and they spend so much time doing this! Their handwriting is all uniform and cursive and everyone dots their i's and crosses their t's at the exact same spot.
-Teachers are more strict and show less emotion to their students.
-Starting at the age of 6, students use a blue pen. They use a ruler to make every line that they ever need (like an equal sign in math ). Everyone in the school has a white board that they use almost everyday. They have to keep ample amounts of gluesticks, blue pens and whiteboard markers in their pencil case and are scolded when something runs out.
-Like previously said, Recess is the most dangerous thing that I've ever seen when it comes to children. They are given soft padded balls which fly every which way and it doesn't seem that there are any rules to touching/wrestling/pushing as long as no one falls/starts to bleed.
-There are no extra staff other than the typical grade level teachers. There aren't really any secretaries, nurses, or janitors. The teachers do everything. When a child gets sick, the teacher cleans it up. The principal, one of the teachers, has to answer the phone and phone. During gym class, the teacher has to help out the assistant that is sent from the city.
-Students call their teacher "maîtraisse" or "teacher" in my class. When they raise their hands to answer a question, they hold one finger up and shoot their arm as high as possible and hold their elbow with the other hand while making annoying "ooh ooh" sounds.
-No school  transportation. Everyone is picked up at the gate. Noone takes the bus.
-There isn't really a dress code for the teachers. Some of them dress up wearing high-heeled boots, short skirts and black tights and others wear sneakers and jeans.
-In general, t


he attitude inside the classroom is much more intense and the attitude outside the classroom is much more lax.

Paris is always a good idea.

Couldn't possibly become more of a tourist...

Audrey Hepburn sure did know what she was talking about! This weekend, I skipped over to Paris to hang out with one of my friends from University that I've known since day 1. K and I are were in the same Scholars program at OSU (IA was basically a University-sponsored club with different international themed programming where students who were interested in different cultures and who liked traveling all lived in the same dorm freshman year) and we were in the same English class during the first semester. Having survived (very punny because the theme of our freshman writing course was survival lol) Mary Hannah (could never figure out if our TA's name was Mary or Hannah since it would show up differently with every email...) and Bolivian literature together, not to mention the actual trip to Bolivia!!, we decided to take on Paris.

A and I always have a wonderful time!

From the very  moment that we saw each other from the opposite sides of the pyramid at the Louvre (one of the little ones. We'd have to have bionic vision to be able to see through the big one!) and we excitedly skipped/ ran/ hunchback of NotreDame sideskidded to each other into a giant hug, I knew that this weekend was going to be one of laughter, shenanigans and happiness but I never imagined how much joy traveling with K would bring me. We wandered around the streets of Paris finding all of the monuments and important looking buildings, explored (eventually dragging ourselves) the whole of Versailles and spent a socially unacceptable amount of time looking at the roosters, ducks and peacocks for girls from small towns in Ohio, ate an obscene amount of cheese in a cheese fondue and tartiflette with my spectacular Parisian friend A, stayed in a friend from French high school's studio apartment and managed to get dressed 3 times in the complete dark, stumbled into Notre Dame literally 5 minutes before Mass and getting to hear the church fill to the brim with Organ music, discover the Louvre and the wonder of the petite Mona Lisa and in general, have a marvelous time. During our picnic in front of the Eiffel Tower, We managed to break all of the societal norms when it came to the Camembert cheese from forgetting a knife and having to tears it with our hands to forgetting the cheese itself and leaving it to ripen in my backpack. All in all, these weekend was another moment in time where Paris called to me, I answered and she didn't fail to please!

It was so special seeing K here in Paris. I've seen so few people from my life back in Ohio here in Europe that it's so nice to see some familiar faces. It's always  surreal to create lifelong memories abroad with people who are apart of my regular, boring old life. I hope that throughout my entire life, I will be blessed with the opportunity to continue traveling with lifelong friends.

So happy to have spent a glorious weekend in Paris with K

Mint Tea in Morocco

Stepping out of the airplane, my first impression of Morocco was one of disbelief. I couldn't believe how inexpensive it was to fly there from Paris (only 120 Euros!!). I couldn't believe that I was finally stepping foot in Africa.  I couldn't believe how green the country was.  From Casablanca, through Marrakech to Rabat, the amount of rich, lusciously deep green foliage overwhelmed the ignorant stereotypes of desert sand that my brain associated with when thinking of Morocco. While there was some deep red earth in Marrakech and in the mountains, it was surrounded by gorgeous landscapes of blossoming trees and thick beds of grass. The bright colors of the earth offset by the elegant blue of the immense sky are images that previously had been unrivaled in my life and are some that will paint my daydreams forever.

Morocco is a place that I had never dreamed of going to. It wasn't on my radar or on my list of places that I NEEDED to see. Luckily, one night with a couple of other assistants, someone threw out the idea of Morocco. Immediately, it became a "why not" in my life. It's so close to France (especially with budget airlines) and such a different experience that I couldn't think of a reason not to go. I found 2 other assistants (and one of their friends) and we decided to explore the land of couscous, mint tea and camels. From the moment that we saw the craziness that was Morocco driving (imagine Mario Kart mixed with bumper cars), the charm that was the overly dramatic way of pouring tea so as to create the most bubbles as possible (honest to goodness this was the answer we were given when we asked why they held the teapot so high) and the palate of brilliant colors that was the markets of the medina, I knew that I wouldn't regret spending part of my 8 weeks of paid holiday there.

Going in, I had imagined that Casablanca would be the prettiest city and would be my favorite; boy was I wrong! In my mind, the idea of Casablanca was equal to elegance and grace but in reality, it was busy and occidental. If the people had been dressed in business suits and ties on the tram instead of headscarves and long robes, Casablanca could have been transported somewhere in Western Europe. That being said, the Mosque and the Ocean were very beautiful and the Medina and its markets were interesting even if we did get a bit swindled into an hour tour by an 80 year old man!

Marrakech was delightful. After (FINALLY) finding the city centre and the hotel (3 hours of wandering around in the hot sun later), we discovered the markets and the square. Jemma El-Fna was such a cultural experience! There were snake charmers, monkey performers, henna artists and so many more interesting sights! From Marrakech, we ventured out towards the mountains and visited a Berber village where we were served some mint tea, witnessed women making Argan oil (where we again enjoyed some mint tea), rode some camels, walked across a rather sketchy rope bridge and hiked 1000 meters up to a waterfall through the river/creek on some pretty slick rocks. Shamefully enough, the 30 minute camel ride for tourists was one of my favorite parts!

While saddened to leave Marrakech, spending our last day in Morocco in Rabat was lovely. In all of its understated beauty, Rabat was a perfect getaway. Blissfully unaware (or consciously ignorant) of the lure it has on tourists, interesting and gorgeous sights were discovered around every corner. I am particularly fond of the neat blue and white walled in Kasbah where the atmosphere was breathtakingly serene.


Breathtakingly beautiful, my 6 day stay is one that I will always think fondly of and pine for. I am very grateful for the opportunity to discover Northern Africa and am impatiently awaiting the day that I can return to buy some more magic lipstick (I swear that there was a new, interesting lipstick around every corner!), drink some more mint tea and be surrounded by the glory that is Morocco.

Cousins and Kisses

Sun. Sand. Baby giggles. Freckles. Compotes (applesauce for my American peeps). Sunglasses. Playgrounds. Little Bunny Foo Foo. Diet Dr. Pepper. Bathtime. Clifford the Big Red Dog. Doudou. Dora's brush. Cheddar Cheese. Naps. Kisses. Cousins.

 

This week has been such a wonderful break from the reality that is my life here in France. I have been so blessed to spend the past week in Antibes, France with my cousin and her family. We've had such an amazing time and I can't believe that it's almost over already! I'm so lucky to have been given the chance to spend some quality time with such amazing people! These girls have jumped right off of the screen (prior to this week, I'd only seen them on facebook and on the various pictures that I have recieved in the mail), and landed straight in my heart.

M is fearless. She will jump from anything without a moments thought about the consequences (which makes the playground scary for Mom and Jen!). She is curious and quick. She has a gallopy sort of run that is impossible to not smile to. Like most 2 year olds I know, she has a hard time reigning in all of the balled up energy and sometimes, it bursts out all around her. This week, we've giggled, sang and colored so much that I'm not sure that Petit Papa Noel will ever get out of my head. She is a very joyous child.

J is light-hearted. She is attentive and conscientious. While sometimes difficult, she loves being a big sister and is learning to put up with the constant attention that comes from being born first. A mature young girl of almost 4, J is quick to catch onto physical things and loves to build things (whether they be out of legos, lincoln logs or sand) and is (most of the time) patient when those things are crushed by a certain little sister. We've held hands wherever we've gone and cuddled more than I have since I've been home that my arms are going to feel empty when I leave here tomorrow.

These two little girls (and their moms) have crashed right into my heart and have carved out a place for themselves. The light that shines from them and their adorable smiles will accompany me in my thoughts wherever I go and I will be anxiously waiting for the day that I can come back and throw my arms around them and get some kisses accompanied by the most beautiful word ever in the sweetest litte voices; "encore."

Chocolate Chip Cookies

This week, I've become a bit of a celebrity at school. I've always been a hot commodity amongst the kids due to my funny accent (my students have never actually heard me speak in French even when we're out and about in town and I see them with their parents) but, the minute that I brought in some chocolate chip cookies, I became a star. 

 

Chocolate chip cookies aren't a huge thing in France. With my students, I decided to do a week-long unit on the song "Who stole the cookies from the cookie jar." Using a cute ook that my boss had, we worked on some desert animal vocabulary for a couple of days and then read the book. We then sang the song and made our way around the room accusing each other. Eventually it got to me and I owned up to stealing the cookies but told them that I brought them back to share and everyone tried a cookie. These went over much better than my previous attempt of bringing some American cuisine into the classroom with some homemade pumpkin pie for Thanksgiving (only 7 out of 39 students liked it).

All week, my students were asking for the recipe so I ended up making a lesson on how to make chocolate chip cookies. I grabbed all of the ingredients from our kitchen and set off to enlighten the young minds in my class. The lesson went without a hitch except for one student laughing at me and my bowl (it has a hole in the bottom because of a popcorn incident in our apartment. I calmly explained to him that I wouldn't mix cookies in this bowl, it was just pretend.)

Right before we left for vacation, my roommate and I made a batch because we were bored. Brought some down south with me and have been sharing them with my cousins. Honestly, it's the little things like a chocolate chip cookie that brings a smile to someone's face that make it memorable and worthwhile!

Here is the recipe for my cookies that brought so many laughs this week. Enjoy!

 Ingredients
1 cup of butter (about 225 grams)
1 cup of white sugar
1 cup of brown sugar
2 eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
3 cups all purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 teaspoons hot water
1/2 teaspoon salt
chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350 fahrenheit (175 celcius)

Cream together the butter and the sugars. (melt the butter a little bit first or else it'll be a big mush ball. May or may not be speaking from experience...)
Beat in the 2 eggs.
Stir in the vanilla.
Dissolve the baking soda in the water and mix into the batter with the salt (if you forget and put it into the mixture without dissolving, not a huge deal...).
Stir in the flour (it helps putting it in a little at a time and stirring but, if you're like me and always dump it all in, it'll work too).
Add chocolate chips (didn't have enough so I cut up a dessert chocolate bar into chunks. Did the job).
The cookies are softer and keep their shape better if you refrigerate the dough overnight.

Cook for 10 minutes (I usually cook mine for 7-9 because I like mine undercooked).
Enjoy!

Finding Beauty: Anne Frank

Upon starting a book as infamous and powerful as The Diary of a Young Girl (the story of Anne Frank), you tend to give yourself up to the emotions and the feelings that will envelop you over the 400 page span of the book. My first glimpse into Anne's world in the Secret Annex was when I was thirteen years old. I still remember the dingy burgundy cover with the curled up edge and the library book scent of the diary that had me engrossed from the first page all the way through to the disappointing end that left me angry at the world and confused. This second time through, ten years later, left me reliving the same emotions of hope, optimism and then eventually injustice.

Traveling to Amsterdam, we knew that we had to go to Anne Frank's house. It was one of the only things that we had planned to do before we left (we also needed to walk through the Red Light District, eat some pancakes and go on a canal cruise). Bumbling along the streets of Amsterdam, we almost missed it. Understated, it blended in with the rest of the landscape and I had to double back to enter the front door. Laid out as a self-guided tour with videos and interviews, the visit to Anne Frank's house is one that I will never forget. The minute that I walked through the ominous door behind the bookcase and stepped lightly up the steepest stairs that I've ever encountered while they were creaking with every movement, I couldn't help but to imagine myself as one of the 8 inhabitants of the Secret Annex who had to sit in silence so as to not bring attention to themselves for more than 2 years.

The mood in the dimly-lit Secret Annex was heavy and sorrowful. Strew throughout the museum was excerpts from the diary, oddly upbeat and optimistic. The juxtaposition of Anne's hopeful voice from her diary guiding you through the winding staircases and the weight of the history encased in the walls of the Annex is enough to leave you somber and pensive trying to imagine the life that was contained within. While empty of furnishings, little touches of life explode from the walls like the family growth chart which showed that Anne was much taller than in my imagination (she was taller than me!) or Anne's decorations of celebrities and postcards on her wall like any typical teenage.

The tragically short yet inspiring life of Anne Frank is one that motivates me to be the best person that I can be. Her uplifting words and optimistic attitude that rarely faltered during the unimaginable time that she spent living in an Annex inspire me to live with hope, not in fear.

"Think of all the beauty still left around you and be happy."

I don't speak American...

It seems as though that the Super Bowl has inspired a lot on the Internet this week. Putting aside disappointing football, beautiful National Anthems and buffalo chicken dip recipes, the thing that is the hottest topic that I've seen from this side of the pond is the Coca-Cola ad. In this beautiful representation of happiness and America, it saddens me to think that the message of connectedness and community is inspiring so much hatred out there. "America the Beautiful" is by far my favorite patriotic song and I've never heard a more powerful and humbling arrangement of it. I am very proud of Coca-Cola and am also very disappointed by all of the bullies out there being racist and stupid.

The word "American" to describe the quality and class of English that is spoken in the in the United States is one that has always put me on edge. My usual encounter with this word has been abroad while speaking to ignorant Europeans or some smug British who would use it as a qualifier to weigh in on the "correctness" or the level of my English as if being from the United States made my language skills inferior to theirs. Personally, I've had the pleasure of someone turning down my proofreading skills for an English paper because I didn't speak English, I speak "American." (If it makes you feel better, this idiot did not pass that class). In my life experiences, whenever the word "American" is used to qualify the language that I speak, it always has a negative connotation and is used in a condescending manner, however unintentional it may be. This week, I heard and saw firsthand, other people from the United States, belittling and disrespecting themselves by filling the social media outlets with hate. To insinuate that because you are in America you should speak "American" shows the world how uneducated and intolerant you are. "American" isn't a language; it's a way of life, a mindset and an adjective. I personally try not to use it but, if you do, USE IT CORRECTLY!

As my friends know, I'm not one to let things that are unjust, unfair or downright wrong get left uncorrected. I will be the first one to stand up and defend a sexist or racist or homophobic remark without a single thought as to any consequences there may be in it for me. I really can't let someone go along unchallenged if they are spouting out hatred. I want to call out all of my friends, acquaintances and the people whose social media accounts I've seen strewn with animosity and careless words and urge you to think of all of the people that you know who identify with their heritage and are proud of their roots. These people that you know are no different than the ones featured in this advertisement singing their pride in a language close to them. There is no official language of the United States. Stop isolating people because of the color of their skin, their religion, who they love, how they identify themselves, their political choices, their gender and the language of the words that come out of their mouth. Don't hate, appreciate.

As a (temporary as of now) ex-pat, I'm going to head off into the unknown, ready to defend my homeland (both from the small-minded within and elsewhere) with my dying breath. This advertistment continues to take away my breath and leave my eyes wet with tears. I hope if this didn't open your eyes to the diversity and the beauty around you, it at least has made you think.

I'm off to enjoy a coke.

It's not easy feeling green.

There is nothing worse than getting sick far away from home. This week, I've been battling a mixture of possible food poisoning/an allergic reaction/a not-so-24-hour flu and to be honest, it's been terrible. I've been pretty comatose lying in my bed doing nothing but surfing the web, wishing someone would skype me and watching batman movies. Hopefully my stomach decides to keep the soup inside it so I can go to school tomorrow! 

Over the weekend, a close friend here turned 21. We went out, celebrated and danced the night away. The next morning, a little worse for the wear, I stumbled over to my host parents for a typical French meal (imagine the cheese box being opened right in front of you) . At the time, I was feeling alright, not great but was thinking at it was only the after effects of the night before. My host dad and I sped off (at the speed of light) and whirled through the streets in the car in order to arrive to Bingo in time. We spent the day helping put on a bingo with the Rotary club for charity (one of my jobs was to stamp the bingo tickets). I was feeling a bit carsick and not the best. Thankfully, I was able to wait until arriving at the bingo hall to spill my cookies. Unfortunately though, I couldn't wait until the safety of the bathroom. Instead, I threw up my lunch (and my dignity) on some mulch right after telling my host dad that I was carsick. Due to a mixture of an allergic reaction to some vanilla from the night before and the art of being sick, I had red spots all over my face that looked like I had been punched in the eye. I spent all day stealing off to be sick in the restroom and then returning to put on a happy face for the bingo but, inside, I was miserable. 

Unfortunately, it didn't go away the next day and here I am, 4 days later, still wishing that my mom was here and that I could eat things that will stay in my stomach.

Since then, I've been laying low and have been hibernating in my room. I have wonderful friends who have taken me to the dr, came over and made me soup and ran out to the only grocery store in Nancy for some ginger ale so I could nurse the familiar drink that my dad would run out and get me if I were at home. I will hopefully make it to school tomorrow morning with less adventure than when I tried to go yesterday (I almost threw up in the crossing guard on the walk home...). In the meantime, I'm going to stay in my bed and dream away the hours until my stomach is my friend again.

High five, sentences and Ninja

Today, I played hopscotch with some girls at recess (not really helping the sprained ankle that I sustained after I marched a bit too hard) and then led some 8 year olds in their first game of Ninja while their teacher was in a meeting with the principal and they couldn't go into class yet. Moments like these where I have the opportunity to interact with students in English and just mess around with them in a  language that isn't their own native tongue makes me smile. They really learn more when they're having fun and smiling and they don't even realize it!  They are so much fun and make going to work seem like playtime instead of work.

Today was such a great day and it's only half done! There is no better feeling than the moment after the boy that you are tutoring joins the rest of the class and completes his work correctly. I am so proud of him! After 3 weeks of reading help, he sounded out the word "watch" by himself and proceeded to write it down in a sentence (They watch tv.) using proper grammar, a capital letter at the beginning and a "dot" at the end. While this doesn't sound like much, it was enough to have the teacher and I high fiving everyone around the room. The entire class was excited and the boy couldn't stop beaming. This moment is one that inspires me and motivates me to continue everyday trying to make a difference in someone's life.

I've found that high fives are one of the best motivators. My roommate is obsessed with them and gives everyone random high fives all of the time. I find that everytime you high five someone, it leaves everyone feeling wonderful inside. It's almost impossible to high five and not smile. The students love them and it really helps to get them to do better work. I urge you to go out and high five someone who needs it (hint: everyone needs and deserves a good high five every now and then). I know that I am going to try to incorporate them into my daily life  and use them to keep my friends spirits up!

Christmas in France with my Best Friend

This holiday season, I was blessed with the most wonderful gift that I could have never imagined; my sister. KJ arrived on the 22^nd of December after a few slip ups in travelling that included being rerouted through an extra country and a lost bag. I was fortunate enough that she was able to stay through the 8^th of January. While this sounds quite a long vacation, it flew by and I feel as though I blinked and it was over.

We kept on the move nonstop. We saw the Christmas markets of Metz and Strasbourg, drank a beer in Germany, gallivanted around Paris and had a wonderful time. We spent Christmas with my host parents and host family and it was such a beautiful moment. I am such a lucky girl to be able to claim that I have family here that treats me like one of their own. We also had a few dinner parties with other French friends of mine. I tried to give KJ as many chances I could to have her practice her French and to meet the people who love me here. Then, we travelled to Paris and rang in the New Year's at the Eiffel Tower drinking Champagne. We filled every possible moment with a new adventure creating memories that will always be cherished.

For Christmas, I took Kaley to Disneyland Paris. I surprised her and to be honest, it was the proudest I've ever felt. I'm a horrible secret keeper and it took everything I had in me to not spill the beans. I bought a Disney puzzle and sorted through it and wrote that we were going to Disney on a few of the pieces. Waiting until we finished the puzzle to tell her was hard but worth it! It was even more magical than I could have imagined it being. It was her first time to a Disney park and everything was perfect! We rode Space Mountain, Buzz Lightyear, Star Wars (I loved it, she hated it lol), Pirates, Dumbo, teacups, Indiana Jones, and so much more! I can't wait to go to another Disney park with my best friend!

One set of memories that I will always hold dear is the mess that was my food in Paris. Unable to order anything relatively edible, Kaley had to put up with me, various tears and some pretty disgustingly weird things sitting across from her on my plate. Three meals in a row were a failure for me. Lunch one day, I unknowingly ordered raw beef. Unable to find the steak on the plate, I promptly realized that the red stuff around it was the meat and not a garnish. Even though I like my meat on the rare side, the cow was basically still mooing on my plate. Then, at supper, I looked up expecting to find scallops on my plate and instead, was greeted with three HUGE shrimp with their heads, eyes and legs still attached. I've never felt so lost and hopeless in all my life. After tears sprang up at my eyes, Kaley, who had ordered a cheeseburger and was so happy, hastily grabbed my plate and proceeded to earn her sister of the year award (1 day into the New Year) by deheading my dinner. Lunch the next day provided me with a raw egg cracked onto the top of my pasta. Needless to say, Paris wasn't the culinary capital that I had imagined/hoped it would be.


Having someone in my life finally see, with their own eyes, the life that I live here was so wonderful. I only wish that she could have stayed longer. Getting back into the rhythm of life here without her was so difficult but, slowly, it's getting better. While I wish that I could be with her and the rest of my family that makes up my life in Ohio, I'm so happy to have the opportunity to feel a little heartbreak; it keeps me grounded in the moment and makes me appreciate everything that I am missing.

The Frape heard round the world

This week has been anything but boring. Last weekend, while logging onto Facebook from a friends phone, I forgot to logout. Let's  just say that I will be the last time I do that.  Before going into details, it's really important that I reiterate that I love my life in France. I have some of the greatest friends, a wonderful job that keeps me on my toes and the opportunity to live in a place that I love almost as much as Ohio. That being said, the majority of the people who care about me this week thought I was moving home from France.

To give you all some background, the Internet in my apartment basically is the most sketchy, unreliable thing that exists. In order to post this blog for example, I am forced to go into town and get Internet either at a McDonalds (or McDonalds like place) or a café. The only thing that works at The Bees (our apt) is Facebook (and it only kinda works). If I haven't responded to something that you have sent over the Internet, please don't feel as though I've been ignoring you or not valuing your friendship, the Internet just sucks that much.

On Monday, after having come home from a pretty hectic day of teaching (just kidding, I only worked 4 hours with a 3 hour lunch break in the middle of them lol. Be jealous), I was startled by a phone call from a dear Irish friend that I work with who alerted me that I had been "fraped." After a moment or two of confusion, I learned that a frape is when someone who isn't you posts something ridiculous on your Facebook. This is what i found when i opened my facebook (about an hour later since the internet ironically wasn't working).

"So after a lot of careful deliberation and many difficult days, I've decided that France is really not for me.'m flying back to my beloved Ohio next week.i can't cope with the bad Internet, thin walls, and lacklustre toilet flush Then the fact that one of my students farted today and blamed it on me is last straw. I am done."

In my case, apparently the frape wasn't ridiculous enough to be unbelievable because I have had over 28 private messages giving me words of encouragement for the tough decision I had to make, prayers from a church for safe travels, a sorority full of well wishes and excitement of my return, various concerns about my mental state of being and a group of assistant friends who shared hilarious laughter with me at every new stage this frape that caused quite the international scandal.

I am very lucky to have so many people in my life who wanted to support me and help me through what they thought was a difficult time but, I'm not sure how to interpret the sheer number of people who believed that I was moving home from France because of bad Internet connections, being able to be heard while going to the bathroom and being blamed for farting from a 7 year old. I would hope that from now on, my family and friends would have more confidence in me and faith that I could cope and flourish on my adventure away from home. I'm sorry that this mix up happened and confused everyone but remember, I'm still Jen and I am still the fun-loving, hopeful and grateful girl you all know!