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the port of amsterdam (and brussels)

I finally did some traveling outside of Paris! I spent the first weekend of November in Brussels and Amsterdam. It was a whirlwind tour full of odd-hour buses, confusing hotels, and food. So much food. Aside from a souvenir hat and some keychains, that’s where all my money went. Food.

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The voyage began with a 6am bus from Paris to Brussels. I only allowed myself 3 hours of sleep before-hand. Bad plan. The bus left us in a fishy looking neighborhood but right in front of a shiny train center. After a little wandering we found the subway, bought tickets, and were on our way to the hotel. Hotel Manhattan actually resembled a seedy hotel I stayed at with my family in New York once… so… accurate representation! We dropped off our things (the rooms were ready despite being hours before check-in) and set off towards the city center.

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Running on very little sleep, here.

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We had no purpose or agenda. It was great. We had some moules frites and pasta… not bad but I definitely don’t recommend the restaurant. I could understand not offering a carafe of water (tap water) if the plumbing is sketchy or something, but 3 euros for a little bottle? No. Stop. I know it’s 60 cents for a liter at the grocery store. Don’t be a jerk. And when, at the end of the meal, one of us tried to give back the bottle unopened, the waiter refused it because the bill was already calculated. You’d recalculate really quickly if we wanted to buy drinks or dessert! Please. I digress. Also mom (if you’re reading this)- add mussels to the mild allergy list. Tried them twice now and got an upset tummy each time. Wah.

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Do you get it though?

But then came the waffles. Real Belgian waffles with real belgian dark chocolate sauce all over them. Go to the Drug Opera in Brussels and eat some waffles before you die. The rest of the day was a bit of a blur. There was more wandering and eating. There were lots of chocolate shops with tons of tins. There were friendship sweaters. There was a peeing fountain and a discount book store. I wanted to buy so many holiday gifts for people but I couldn’t have carried them around for the rest of the weekend. Around 8pm I think we made our final stop at a falafel restaurant and then retreated to the hotel to eat, plan, and sleep.

Go to here. Do it.

Go to here. Do it.

Real Belgian Waffles... Ohh...

Real Belgian Waffles… Ohh…

The next day came way too early. We checked out of the hotel at 2 am and started walking the long rainy trek to the bus stop. We finally made it to the circled spot on our map but… where was the street? After wandering around the area for about an hour things got really tense. The taxi drivers wouldn’t help us with directions- they’d insist it was very far and that we had to take a cab to get there. Shopkeepers and passerby had never heard of the street. A car kept looping around the neighborhood blasting music. The rain wouldn’t let up. I even had a drink thrown at me from a passing car (missed by about a foot). No idea why. Finally, just around boarding time, an older taxi driver pointed us towards a small side street we’d passed before entering the main square. There- shiny and rumbling- was our bus. Praise Jesus. We were off like a hooker’s panties!

So… Amsterdam in one word? Magical. It’s officially my second favorite city (after High Falls- Center of the Universe). It was like a german Venice. There were houseboats and bikes and tulips and foods. There were also prostitutes. That was kind of weird. But it was so pretty! And Dutch is so neat… it’s similar to German so I could figure out a few words, but really just hearing germanic sounds again felt so right. I can’t handle this French bunk all the time. When we arrived in the early morning the sky was purple and misty. We spent a while regrouping- buying tea and coffee, putting on extra layers- and figuring out our next step. Eventually we walked outside and found ourselves some reasonable english breakfast along the main drag. I ate mushrooms, yo. Trying new things every day. I mean normal mushrooms. Standard english breakfast ones.

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Wandering and shopping was followed by the welcome presence of a guide. Yes, Victoria has friends in Amsterdam. Hallelujah. Lev and Phil marched us through neat streets and squares… after a trippy experience at the Anne Frank house we all sat down for dinner. I had my own hawaiian pizza. It was wonderful. The arduous trip to our hotel afterwards was made less so by my happy belly. Pizza heals all. Even preemptively.

To get to the Tulip Inn we had to take a train outside the city and then walk along a highway for 10 minutes. Not too terrible, but damn confusing for four sleep-starved young adults. After a quick check in and a long hallway we were finally in our rooms. Protip: the Dutch have magic blanket technology. They looked so thin but they were so very warm. It was a good night.

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The next morning was the reverse routine. We checked out, walked back down the highway, and took the train back into the city. We took our time eating, strolling, and shopping through the city. Eventually we met up with Victoria’s friends again for a little more sightseeing and eating. Oh and a quick tour of the red light district. That was strange. We ended the day with some Dutch grocery shopping and a dash for the bus.

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In conclusion I definitely need to thank Lev and Phil. We would’ve been pretty lost without them! They guided us and helped us get discounts and went through museums with us… This was all in all an amazing weekend. I can’t wait for my next trip!

it has been a while

I know my followers are few in number, but I still feel terribly guilty. My last post was October 21st… today is January 23rd. What? How? I have no idea.

Actually, I have a half excuse. One of my last posts mentioned a certain babysitting agency here in Paris… they didn’t like what I initially wrote (even though it was totally politically correct and non-slanderous). They called many times over a course of 2 weeks I think, and they demanded that I edit the post to their specifications or delete it entirely. I tweaked it and changed it a few times but they kept calling. Finally threatened with legal action (for the second time) I deleted a few more sentences. They were satisfied. I was terrified.

I didn’t feel comfortable posting anything for a little while until our trip to Amsterdam. I wrote a post that was way too long and let the days slip by without editing it. Finals came and then the holidays… then more finals (French schedules are weird). Another two weeks and now here we are. Voila!

It’s back to business now… I’m currently in a room with three other friends- all of us blogging away. It’s a blogging party! Cute, right? We’re going to have popcorn in a half hour. Life is pretty good. I’ve got a lot to write about though- the last three months have been pretty crazy! Allons-y!

hurr

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A little while ago I was walking around an open market and was stopped by a guy with a camera. He was politely asking me something in French and I was totally lost. We figured out I needed English and he asked me to turn around so he could photograph my hair. I mean, my hair is pretty cool, but I was suspicious. What if I turned around and he stole my wallet out of my backpack? What if this was for a weird hair fetish? I quickly gave up worrying and just turned around. He snapped the shot and handed me a little slip with liotre.com printed in bold red letters. Cool.

I thought nothing of it until this evening when I finally remembered to check out the site… Once there I quickly found my purple locks! I’m right in the middle of the redhead page (click here). I’m so famous it’s silly.

If you see this, Mr. Liotre Person, thanks for being so polite and for including me on your page! Vive la France! Or something.

stromae

Since landing in France I’ve gone through a few musical phases… I started with The Shins, cycled through a few random singles, and got into a little more Animal Collective. Finally today I found some modern French music! (I love Piaf, Gainsbourg, and Trenet as much as the next chap but they get old after a few rounds on shuffle).

I don’t know what the popular opinion is… I don’t know if the French see him as an annoying pop fool or a musical genius… but I like him a lot. Readers, meet Stromae. You may know him from ‘Alors on Danse’ which made the rounds in America but I tell you mes amies a lot of his other songs are way cooler. Check it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UMN_15jdiTA
Okay so I did include Alors on Danse…. but that random dude coaching Stromae is Lucien (Jamel Debbouze) from Amelie. Yes way. Yes. I just couldn’t leave it out after finding it.

If you haven’t seen Amelie… well you need to change that ASAP.

Fun Fact: French people like their slang like pig-latin… all mixed up and weird. Stromae is hip slang for maestro. C’est bizarre, n’est-ce pas?

working girl

The job search is over! Victory at long last is mine!

For the last 2 weeks I’ve been babysitting/teaching english to a lovely almost 4-year-old in the 18th Arrondissement. I’m doing 7 hours per week at 10€ per hour which is not bad at all. Actually a lot of my job is transport… I bring her to/from school and home and art classes and dance lessons… the preschoolers of Paris keep very active schedules! When I’m watching her I speak only English, which she understands quite well. It’s pretty hard to get her to speak English back to me though… but I hear that’s a common thing when teaching a foreign language. I know I myself have a much harder time speaking French than understanding it right now. C’est la vie, I suppose.

I work right near the Sacre Coeur!

I work right near Sacre Coeur!

Before I got the job babysitting with this family my employment adventure was slow and disappointing. My first attempt was with Babylangues, an agency that matches native English speakers with French families for babysitting work. I arrived a few hours early (when I double-checked the interview time I looked at the wrong email) and was in a rush so I showed up sweaty and out of breath. I answered the questions alright but I was uncomfortable and nervous and I know they knew it. I did not get the job.

Next I tried Baby-speaking. It was a similar agency looking for the same kind of employees… kind of like a second try for me. I scheduled an interview with them and at the same time sent out online applications to Cafe Oz and Frog Pub. Only one of them ever replied and it was only to say that the position had been filled already. When it came time to interview with Baby-speaking I took all precautions. I knew they’d be asking similar questions but I rehearsed answers in my head anyway. I dyed my hair again so it would be uniform and less sloppy-looking and wore it up in a conservative bun. I put on a simple green dress and made sure everything matched. I looked mad responsible, yo. I managed to arrive exactly 5 minutes early and I thought the interview went really well. There was hope for me yet!

A few days later I got the rejection email. I was sad and ate a lot of french bread and chocolate. It was a dark time. Then I thought to check the recent MICEFA emails- they were sending us updates about odd jobs babysitting or tutoring English from time to time. Lo and behold I found something promising and sent the family an email (not expecting anything but hey, you have to keep trying). I was surprised to get a quick response and met with the mother the very next day. She was fine with the hair (she’d actually had a babysitter in the past with a ton of facial piercings so I was a daisy or a rose or something pleasant in comparison). We brought the daughter to her new art class and she was very shy but I can totally relate. The mom sensed some sort of silent approval from the little girl and just like that I was hired! Yay!

The babysitting gig seems to be a great part-time job here. The parents get bilingual kids and we get a nice hourly wage and work experience abroad. As long as you’re sane you can probably get a job with one of the larger agencies. The benefit with them is that you get special teaching books, training, and a safety net if there’s trouble with the family or your schedule. The downside is that you’ve often got a contract to work for them until you leave France.

It was suggested by an advisor that my crazy hair was most likely the cause for my lack of success with the agencies. I’ll admit this upset me a little- my hair is totally rad and I’m not going brunette for anybody any time soon. I felt a little better after I got to crash a boat party on the Seine though. Anyway now I have a good job with a nice family and everything is formidable. Thank goodness I didn’t get totally desperate and try to pull a “Walter White.” Yay for legitimate work!BreakingBad