Halloween picture tour!

I'm heading to Ireland tomorrow (hai-tee-tai-tee-tai!) so I thought I would leave you for a few weeks with a visual record of some fun Halloween festivities.

First and foremost, I present to you the greatest tri-person costume of all time. Hocus Pocus!


Note the Sarah Jessica Parker mop/swiffer:


Here is the amazing Hocus Pocus magical book that Taj recreated out of putty and makeup!


Steph played the role of Bette Midler, and her teeth are only about half the length of her character's, so we worked on her facial expressions throughout the night. Here's a cool shot of her hair, followed by the look we were trying for, followed by a horrible, terrifying iphone shot where she has NO NOSE AND ONLY ONE TOOTH!!!


Now a US Weekly-style "Who wore it better?"


And now, as a special Halloween present for you, the cutest lil' bee you've ever seen. Eeeeee! It's my niece!

Ukulele Fun

I got the best text message I have ever received earlier this week:

PS a ukulele will arrive at your house on Wednesday.

I am now a proud co-owner of "Ukie", the world's cutest and most Hawaiian ukulele.

I've never played a guitar before in my life. I have no idea how to strum, or play chords, or even hold it. But beef and I downloaded a few chord finder and tuner apps and chose two songs to start with.

Here is my extremely professional and heartfelt version of Hey Jude, dedicated to my sissy:



Here is Tom's haunting rendition of Somewhere Over the Rainbow:

Plane Karma.

I fly a lot for work. And let me just say that I get easily annoyed whilst doing so.

For example, I flew from Philadelphia to Minneapolis last week and I had to race for my life to get to the gate because of a previous flight that took it's sweet, precious time taking off. Once I finally got to my seat, I took a breather, read a few pages of a book, then when I was allowed to use electronics I started watching Dexter on my phone.

Before I go on, you need to know that I love Dexter. It's the only thing that keeps me sane on airplanes. The moment when I get to flip it on is like ultimate relaxation for me. But Dexter can be...pretty gory. And kind of sexual. So watching it on my phone is the perfect solution for me because the phone is small enough that I can use my hands to block the screen during Dex's brutal murders. Unless, that is, the person next to me is STARING AT MY SCREEN.

That's exactly what happened to me last week. The woman next to me, though she couldn't hear a thing, watched my screen for hours. If I moved it slightly, she would adjust her posture. When I tried to block the screen with my balls of yarn, she would sit higher. I thought about saying something, especially since her watching meant I had to extra-screen the show for violence, but then I thought about something: Plane Karma. I am a firm believer that you have to be a really good passenger and airport patron, otherwise bad things will happen to you.

For example, a man took my window seat on the first flight, and he knew it. I could tell by the guilty look he gave me when I arrived at my seat. Not only did he take the liberty of boarding himself before he was called to ensure that he took my seat, but he didn't even mention it when I got there. I thought about saying something, because I chose that seat specifically and printed my boarding pass a day early to make sure I had that seat, but then I thought again. I fly all the time, I always get window seats, maybe this man NEEDED this seat. Maybe he would die without it. Or maybe he was just a jerk. Either way, I knew that if I gave him this one, it would get returned to me somehow. And me making that Philadelphia flight by about 10 seconds, I really think, was the result of this benevolence.

So back to the Dexter-stealing lady next to me. I thought about saying something to her, but I said to myself, "You know what Anna? You love Dexter. And you're always telling people that they need to watch this show. So even though you're annoyed right now, just think of it this way. Maybe she's so compelled by the show that she'll be a watcher of Dexter from now on. And wouldn't you want that?" So I let her watch for a couple of hours, then when it was time to turn our electronics off, I shook off my annoyance and asked her if she's ever seen Dexter before. It turns out, she hadn't. But she said this: "So, the plot is that there's a guy who kills only bad people, right?" And my mouth...dropped. How could she have gotten that just from the visuals of a couple episodes? "Yes, that's right!" I said. We talked about Dexter for a few more minutes, then the conversation switched topics.

"Hey...do you read?" she asked me. "Yes, I do read. Why?" I asked. Then she took a book out of her bag and said "I'd like to give you this". I looked at the novel she was holding and told her that it's ok, she didn't have to give me the book she was reading. She could just tell me what it was and I'd go check it out myself. "No, no," she said, "I wrote it. And I'd like you to have it." Turns out, this woman is a famous author that has been interviewed on MY public radio station. Exactly one year ago, she probably walked right by my desk! She autographed the book for me saying, "It was so nice to meet you, Anna". She told me that she had just been waiting, flight after flight, to talk to a nice person on a plane that she could give her book to. I'm very thankful I shook off my rage and spoke to this woman, because we ended up talking for a while and I might even babysit her kids.

Here's the moral of the story. Be nice on planes a) because of Plane Karma and b) because you might be sitting next to your new BFF.

Lycée Camille Claudel, Home to the Purple and Blue Cows

I finally started teaching yesterday after several weeks of introducing myself and observing. My first class was with the "Euro" seniors-- a designation for advanced students like AP or IB-- and I prepared a lesson for them about the use of attack ads in American elections. I showed them McCain's "celebrity" ad on Obama, and used an Obama ad where he compared McCain to Bush. I asked them to think about how they used images and music to manipulate the viewers. I did the same with Tarryl Clark/Michele Bachmann ads, and asked them which they found most convincing and why.

It was pretty successful, forcing the students to think critically. I was brimming with confidence going into my next class, with seniors who have specialized in English. I brought them a video the Duluth tourist office made about the city, thinking the kids would be excited to see where I come from. I'm in a really tiny room with nowhere to put my laptop, so I had to awkwardly hold it aloft so they could see. If you've never seen "Fresh Duluth," it's about 30 minutes worth of Lake Superior porn, cut with interviews with locals. Many of them zoned out, so I kept pausing it to say, "Pauline, what just happened?" "Euh... eye don' kno'." "Is that because you weren't paying attention?" "....yis." It was somewhat of a disaster.

Today I had two groups of sophomores, and I prepared a lesson for them about school spirit. The kids here go to school from 8 a.m. to 6 p.m., and they don't have any extra-curriculars. No sports teams. No music ensembles. No assemblies. No mascot. No school colors. I brought in my Duluth East High School yearbook and tried to explain these foreign concepts.

Next I taught them some cheers from my high school. They really got into the clapping and stomping as they chanted:

"Oo rocks zuh 'ouse?
Zuh grey'ounds rock zuh 'ouse
And when zuh grey'ounds rock zuh 'ouse
Zey rock eet all zuh way down."

Another favorite:

"One! We ar' zuh grey'ounds!
Two! A leetle beet loudahr!
Sree! Ay steel can't 'ear yoo!
Foh! Moh! Moh! Moh!"

As an activity I had them choose a mascot and school colors for their own high school, Lycée Camille Claudel. The mascot had to share an attribute with the students. I told them we were the greyhounds because greyhounds are fast and always win the race, just like East High School athletes. I used escargots as an example, since it's a specialty of the region. But it's not a particularly fierce or fast animal, so they probably wouldn't want to choose it, I said.

"Les gazelles!" someone suggested. That was eventually shot down because they didn't think their classmates were elegant enough to qualify. "Les grenouilles (frogs)!" said another. Not too much enthusiasm for that one either.

"Les vaches!" said a girl who had been really into the cheers. "Cows?" I asked. "Why would you want to be the cows?" "Becooz, euh, zuh coos, zey talk a lot. And zuh studahnts, zey talk mooch az well. So we are zuh coos." Everyone nodded in agreement. And your colors? I asked. Blue and violet was the consensus. Why? "Becooz zey ah' well wiz each ozzer."

I asked the students to use their 10-day Toussaint vacation to create their own cheer for Camille Claudel. I can't wait to see what zey cohm oop wiz.

The plan

Bonjour Truth Pirates!

It turns out I have a lot, beaucoup, to say about France. And I've been restraining myself from broadcasting on this blog every little thing that happens to me. TP was born as a collaboration between my wife Anna and me, and I don't want it to become too Neenuh-heavy and lopsided and lame.

So, much like Anna has Separate Stack as a repository of all her written genius, I have opened Francey Pants for business. This is where you'll be able to find my day-to-day musings about my life abroad, along with anything else that flits into my head and makes itself comfortable. I'll be double-posting the coolest things I write to Truth Pirates, but I'm going to try to keep it to a twice-a-week max.

OK? OK!

Paris in 25 Hours

When I first found out I was headed to France, I had a large number of folks promise me a visit. I figured most of them were just saying that and never intended to hop the pond, but this weekend I got to play tour guide to my first round of promise-keepers! Ted and Danielle are on their first European excursion, and had about a week in Jolly Old England before they took the Eurostar over to Paris on Saturday morning. Their train got in at 11:30 a.m. after a slight delay, and they were due to leave Sunday afternoon at 1:00 p.m. That means I had only 25 hours and change to show them the most magnificent city in the world. Ready? Allez-y!

12:30-13:00: After heaving our luggage up and down multiple sets of stairs in the metro, finding our hotel, and checking into our hotel, we took a a stroll down the Boulevard St. Germain des Pres. We stopped for some savory crepes on the way, and then poked around in the quarter's eponymous church for a look-see.

13:00-13:30: Our next stop was obvious: macarons at Ladurée, with an éclair for Ted. We brought our treats down to the banks of the Seine, where we nibbled them as we waited for our riverboat cruise.

13:30-14:30: We paddled in our Batobus toward the Ile de la Cité and the Ile Saint Louis, made a loop around them, and continued west until we stopped at the Eiffel Tower.

14:30-16:00: I had heard warnings for days that Paris, and especially the Eiffel Tower, were due to get terroristed. Thus I was beyond relieved that Ted and Danielle were content to just wander along the base of the tower rather than mounting it. Plus, the lines to get up stretched all the way to Digoin. So we artfully dodged the crap vendors, took a peek up the tower's innards, gazed upon the Champs de Mars, snapped some pics, and then got back in line to take the riverboat up to the Musée D'Orsay.

16:00-17:30: This is apparently the perfect time to go to the Musée D'Orsay, home to works by Van Gogh, Dégas, Seurat, Manet, Monet, Toulouse-Lautrec, Rodin, Renoir, and others. There was no line! Plus, I got in for free when I showed them my visa! Double huzzah. We gazed upon masterpiece after masterpiece until the museum shut its doors for the night.

17:30-19:00: Since we weren't going to mount the Eiffel Tower or the Arc De Triomphe, I wanted to take my buds up to Montmartre to give them a lovely, peaceful panoramic view of the city. We got off at the Abesses métro stop (tip: take the elevator to avoid the billion stairs to the top) and encountered a giant, noisy parade. I at first assumed it was yet another protest against the change of retirement age from 60 to 62, but we soon figured out it was to celebrate the grape harvest. We headed up to Sacré Coeur and encountered a mob of Parisians getting their wine-tasting on. After touring the church we spent a frustrating 20 minutes trying to make our way down one of the side streets so we could get outta there.

19:00-20:30: My Digoin friend Suzanne had recommended a restaurant for us to go to, but we were bone tired after all the stairs and the squishing and the walking uphill and the stairs and the walking downhill, so we just plopped down at the first good-looking restaurant we happened upon. Ted got escargots as a starter, we both had duck with honey sauce as a main course, and he had creme brulée for dessert. Danielle had a greek salad, boeuf bourguignon, and mousse au chocolat. My dessert was a very boozy mojito sorbet. We shared a bottle of Bordeaux.

20:30-21:00: I hatched a plan to take mes amies on a forced march through nighttime Paris so they could see some of the important things we wouldn't have time for on Sunday. Our first stop was the Moulin Rouge, which is on a very lewd streets with sex shops as far as the eye can see. We then took the metro to Opéra, so they could see the magnificent rococo building in real life after seeing the model in the Musée D'Orsay.

21:00-22:00: We walked down the Avenue de l'Opéra to the Louvre, the magnificent, gigantic palace that is now one of the world's most important art museums. We arrived just as the Eiffel Tower began its sparkle motion. Alas, my camera was unable to capture it properly, so instead you can feast your eyes on the glass pyramid entrance to the Louvre.

22:00-23:30: We strolled along the Seine, encountering several groups of youngsters guzzling wine and beer en plein air. It's been awhile since I've been out in Paris on a Saturday night, so I don't know if that was just the usual Bacchanalia or if it was in honor of the harvest festival. We reached Notre Dame, and paused to watch a group of buff French rollerbladers make magic with their limbs along a course of overturned cups. We got a bit lost on our last leg of the trip, but we made it back to the hotel safe and sound, and promptly passed out.

9:00-10:30: After breakfast at the hotel, we set out for Notre Dame. Danielle and Ted toured the cathedral while I waited in line to go up the towers. This was a perfect plan, because by the time they were done exploring the line had stretched all the way to Digoin again. I got in for free by flashing my visa, and we climbed to the very tippy top. The cloudless day afforded magnificent views of the city.

10:30-11:00: We trucked over to Saint Chapelle, home to beautiful stained glass windows. We were properly awestruck, and glad we went.

11:00-12:00: I took a slight detour so I should show the bibliophiles Shakespeare & Co., an English-language bookstore where Hemmingway used to hang out. We got some panini sandwiches at a nearby street stand for lunch, and then hightailed it back to the hotel so we could catch the metro in time for our respective trains.

I'm proud of what we were able to see in such a short amount of time, but holy Jacques is it exhausting. 25 hours in Paris: c'est possible!

This will either make you giggle or puke.

Ready for a whopping dose of adorable? I give you the top three reasons Tom and Anna are the cutest couple this side of the Mississip'.

1. Bread-staches. A creative use of that middle chunk you get at Erbs and Gerbs.

2. This video.



3. The cutest couple blog (besides TP) known to man.

randomdino.com

Chez moi

Some of you wanted to see my domicile. Well, voila my cell in all its glory. The door to the bathroom is on the left, my kitchen implements are on the right, and my bed is straight on till morning. Please note the omnipresent blue hue to the walls, which somehow manages to be as depressing as it is bright.

This would be my bathroom, home to the 2-ft-by-2-ft shower where I successfully contorted myself in order to shave my legs using four minutes' worth of hot water. I have since crowned myself the Leg Shaving Queen of France and celebrated with baguette and Nutella.

Welcome to my gigantic kitchen, where I can be often be found spreading goat cheese within a baguette or heating up water for pasta. I'm open to suggestions of what else I can create in this space. That white appliance is a large toaster oven with two hot places on top, and next to it is my dorm-sized mini-fridge.

This is my desk, where all the magique happens. It's also the most decorated corner of my cell. I would love it if you sent me things that I could tack on the walls to make them a bit less blue.

This picture gives you a better idea of the real wall color. That long gray drink of water is my wardrobe. I've yet to make the acquaintance of a French closet, but that just means there are way more Narnia possibilities here.

Everyone at my school keeps asking if I'm "bien-installé" (settled in), and after the purchase of a last few provisions today I feel like I finally am. I was kibbitzing with one of the secretaries this morning, who I told about my upcoming visitor, Loral. She said she would talk to the proviseur (headmaster) to see if I can move to another apartment that has two beds to better facilitate guests. She said she couldn't make any promises, but since there's just such an apartment that's currently empty she would try. So this may not be chez moi for long.

BACON COOKIES!

I can't believe I forgot to tell you this, but listen. Listen to me right now. One of my good friends is a professional chef. She's talented and creative and when I had swine flu last year she brought me homemade chicken soup, cinnamon applesauce, snickerdoodle cookies, and something else really good that I can't remember what it was (probs because of the swine). Luckily for me, she lives a few blocks down the street, and also luckily for me, a couple weeks ago she muttered the two greatest sentences I have ever heard: "We can't go out for sushi because I have to make bacon chocolate chip cookies. Just come over here."

So I went, and was greeted with sushi, pounds and pounds of cooking bacon wafting into my nose holes and sizzling before my very eyes, and my own chopsticks for which to eat said sushi and snag bits of chocolate chip cookie dough, pre, post, and during the cookie baking process. I am a lucky woman, no?

The creepiest (and best) museum in the world

Tomorrow all the language assistants in the Burgundy region will be gathering in Dijon for our orientation. Since I had nothing better to do, I decided to come a day early and check out Burgundy's largest city.

My No. 1 priority for tourist-ing was to visit the Mustard Museum, because, well, how cool is it that a mustard museum exists? Except it doesn't exist. At least not anymore. Quelling the desire to get right back on the train back to Digoin, I soldiered on and visited the huge (and free!) Musée des Beaux Arts in the Ducal Palace. After wandering around there for a few hours, I moseyed the streets of Dijon until I happened upon the Musée de la Vie Bourguignonne.

Quick aside: can I just say how awesome it is to go to museums by yourself? You can go at exactly your own speed and you don't have to pretend to be interested in things you aren't interested just so your companion thinks you're brainy. I highly recommend it.

So. Back to the Museum of Burgundian Life. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but it wasn't this:

"Bonjour! We are two bare-breasted mannequins with ratty bits of hair stuck to our heads. We like to fight over this one arm between us and use it to slap each other when no one else is around. This is very Burgundian."

What followed was a series of vignettes from Burgundian life-- marriages, trapping babies in odd wooden contraptions...

I went through three such rooms all by my lonesome, giggling to myself and imagining I saw them move. Then I really did see one move! I jumped and yelped, "Oh my God!" Turns out it was a museum docent. I tried to explain to her as I clutched my racing heart, "Oh mon dieu! J'ai pensé que vous étiez un mannequin! C'est tellement affreux! (OMD! I thought you were a mannequin! That's really scary!)"

She descended into giggles. I gave a start when I saw another humanoid docent lurking around the kitchen scene. "Il y a trop de mannequins ici pour avoir des vraies personnes aussi (There are too many mannequins here to have real people as well), " I scolded him.

Next was a series of recreated storefronts. There was a candy shop, a butcher shop, a milliner's, a fur shop, a dry goods shop... and this. A shop of horrors.

Turns out it was supposed to be a hair salon. The lady on the left is getting her hair permed and the lady on the right is getting hers dyed. I think. Either that or they used hair salons as fronts for psychological experiments and/or lobotomies.  

She looks awfully serene for having such a contraption attached to her noggin, no?