N'importe quoi!

Hello blog world. Today I feel like sharing a word with you. Whatever. Simply that, whatever. What do I mean by that, you ask? It's funny...I don't really know. Am I expressing doubt? Disgust? Disinterest? Am I criticizing the attitude of someone else or does it reflect my own? You never really know, and this is the beauty of the world "whatever".



The nearest French equivalant that I've found is "n'importe quoi". However, I don't think there are as many vague meanings with this expression like there are in English. I tend to say it in response to the actions of someone else. Like, "They'll do whatever!" which means this person is basically ridiculous or mentally unsound. I really like this expression and I say it quite often, even when it perhaps doesn't really fit the context. Small example of a conversation where I mis-use this phrase:



Person (in French): ...and then she went to the grocery store, with her kids.

Me: N'importe quoi!



And then the person gives me a weird look. Because I can say this French phrase relatively well, but have no idea how to use it. Oops.

Whatever.

A River Ran Through It

The ancient building of this school has finally betrayed us. But more Natalie than me.

When we first arrived we wondered why our sinks made such ridiculous noises. Gurgling and glugging. Everytime someone used the sink in one room to wash our faces or our underwear (okay, that was only me, and only because I couldn't be bothered to walk all the way to the laudrymat and spend 3.20euros) there would be an awful stench bubbling up from someone else's sink. Not pleasant, but also not life threatening. And recently, for about the last month, anytime we've used our sinks it's taken a bit longer than normal for the water to flow out. Also a pain, but nothing we couldn't deal with for a few more weeks. Natalie's sink was the worst, with dirty water hanging around for a good twenty minutes after she brushed her teeth. But she's leaving at the end of March to begin school again back in Cologne. So she thought she could leave it until she was gone.

But then the water refused to go anywhere. Period. Just sat in her sink, a swirling puddle of toothpaste and soap. So she talked with our friend Dominique. Dominique is in charge of the "internat" (boarding school) and has before told us that he has all the keys to everyone's room. He says this with a wicked look in his eye, like he's going to come and spy on us in the showers. But really we know he can't be bothered to leave his office and climb all eight flights of stairs to get to our rooms, so we had to go find him in order to solve this little problem. He sent a funny little repair man, who putzed around in Natalie's room all afternoon and finally came to the conclusion that everything was blocked. Quite content with this discovery, he went home. And left the foul-smelling pipe open. Natalie had instructions to clean out her closet because they'd have to take the whole thing apart the next day.

This was already unpleasant enough, when she noticed her carpet kept getting wetter, and wetter. And the horrible, noxious smell got worse and worse. We began dissembling her carpet squares and carrying them into the hallway. It was then that we made the discovery that anytime anyone in our section of the school used their water, it ALL flowed into Natalie's room. In toxic puddles. We communicated to everyone in our 5-year-old French that they could not, under ANY circumstances, use their water. Still, we had our hands full when first me, then Pedro forgot and used their sinks anyway. I had to literally put tape over my sink so I wouldn't use it.

After washing all her carpet squares in the showers and propping them up to dry, Natalie moved her mattress into my room. The girl was quite a trooper and to end the day well we watched Madagascar and ate chocolate. In fact, we ate the chocolate I bought to send to a certain boyfriend. My dear roommate was in need and it was sacrificed for a good cause. (Plus she even bought you some more, Ben, so no worries:)

Today the funny French repairmen came back and worked their magic. They tore apart Natalie's room, but then they put it back together again and she was able to re-install her carpet that thankfully does not smell like an outhouse anymore. All the sinks work and I even still have the key to the secret, special bathroom they let us use!! (basically where they keep the vacuum). Nothing smells bad and another day in France ends with chocolate.

PS: Also, HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my Dad!!! Aren't you glad you didn't have major plumbing problems to deal with today?

Thought of the Day

Must really fit in those remaining yoga sessions. Good for soul, good for body...also good for learning what different parts of the body are called in French.

More Entertaining Than Reality

I've been having dreams up the wazoo lately. Last week when I was in Berlin visiting my friend Jessica, I had the coolest dreams every morning in the half-haze before consciousness. In one I was a model-in-training and Tyra Banks was my coach. She told me I wasn't intense enough in my photo shoot. Another night I saved the world. I do that quite a lot in my dreams, actually. Single-handedly save the world.

When I got back to Nancy the dreams followed me. Saturday morning I dreamed that my friend Fatma was engaged and gave me a pink bracelet, all while we were being moved to another army camp. She kept speaking English and I kept speaking French. This morning I dreamed that my parents were with me in Berlin (which looked more like Rome, but whatever) and we were searching everywhere for a cabbage. When we at last found one, we went out into the street and found so much money on the ground that we could use it to pay for our train tickets. (This would never happen in Germany, btw. The trains are EXPENSIVE!!!) We found 2.5 euro coins, and 6 euro coins. It was awesome.

I can't wait to go back to sleep tonight, and sleep in tomorrow. Whatever awaits me in the world of my subconscious, it's way more exciting that the world of Lycee Loritz. I hope I'm a queen tonight!

Thought of the Day

The inhabitants of Nancy need more Aretha Franklin in their lives.

Waiting

I've come to the realization that I'm sitting here in Nancy, France waiting. Just waiting. Waiting to go to my next class, waiting to go on another little trip, waiting, ulimately, to go home. This is not good. One shouldn't spend all their time waiting. It's important to live in the present. And waiting disconnects you from the present.

It's not that I don't like it here. I've actually experienced many necessary things, leading to a better understanding of myself. I mean, as far as personal growth goes, these months in France rocked. So it was necessary and I'm sure this process isn't over yet. But I feel that I've learned enough, thanks, and would like to come back home now. Which leads me to waiting.

The problem is that I don't have nearly enough to do. Granted, everything in France seems to take more time (for me anyway). It takes 20 min to walk to the grocery store to buy only what can fit into a few bags, which then have to be carried all the way home and up four flights of stairs. Going to the doctor could mean an hour wait or more. Trying to find where on earth they sell peanutbutter could take an afternoon. And yet...I'm BORED. There is not enough to fill my time. I suppose I could do more for my classes...but I find that when I do the very minimum the professors are singing my praises. Anything more would seem like overkill.

Clearly I'm looking for excuses. I just remember being so much more productive when I had 20 credits and my thesis paper due and I also worked. All of this inactivity brings me back to waiting. I have the GIFT of time! Something I may not have much of in the future, I'm well aware. And yet, I am wasting this gift. Must fill this time with something meaningful. Must have a goal. I'm always asking my students what their goals are Sometimes they're quite clever and they turn the question onto me. And then I give them the same blank look they like to give me.

Right. Goals. I feel sheepish about how I don't stay in contact with the people I love. I also realize I don't ever, ever update this blog. So yeah, could work on those things.

Eating St. Nicolas' Elbow

This weekend is the HUGE celebration of St. Nicolas here in Nancy. St. Nicolas is the saint of La Lorraine, of children and something else...I can't remember what. Apparently, a butcher cut some children up (when I asked why, my French story-tellers shrugged and didn't seem to think it was important. I know it's a legend, but seriously, WHY?) and St. Nicolas sewed them back together and they came to life.

I find this children's story gruesome. And weird. But the children love this holiday here in the Lorraine (it isn't celebrated in western France) and it used to be bigger than Christmas! Now they're about the same. Children get chocolate St. Nicolas's the mornng of the 6th and lots of other goodies too. They're selling man-shaped bread right now in the bakeries. Must admit, I don't quite get it, but am happy to eat the chocolate St. Nicolas that Natalie and Pedro left on my doorstep. At the beginning of this blog I was eating his elbow...now he has no head and his torso is falling fast.

Last night went to the most amazing fireworks show I've ever seen! It was soooo amazing. I realize I've never actually seen fireworks outside the context of the 4th of July. This was so different...magical and cute and beautiful. There was classical music played along to the fireworks, and everybody standing together in the huge, old square called Place Stanislas. And they made snow and had glitter in the air that they then put lights on to make it look like fairydust. I was grinning like a 3 year old the whole time. It was sheer happiness.

Must go. Must finish my chocolate St. Nicolas. And then there's a parade this afternoon. I kinda like Chrismas in Nancy. Though can't wait to come home for Christmas. 12 days!