The Easy Way...or the French Way.

Am I being biased, or is everything this hard back home?

Where do I begin...

Two days after we moved into the apartment, everything inside fell apart. The hot plate on the stove top wouldn't turn off, the gas was leaking for the other stove top heaters, the microwave wouldn't shut off for two minutes after it had already stopped. The landlady came over to investigate, and brought us a TV which she didn't know how to connect. So we got the concierge to come help us. After an hour and a half, the oven was torn open and shoved to one side of the kitchen, the microwave was in pieces in the hallway, the electricity and gas were shut off, and wires were flying next to the TV. Then I had to leave for lunch with my french family, who had been waiting for me outside while all of this was going on.

When I got home, we found that we still had no electricity, the hot water was gone, and we had no working oven, stove, or microwave. But we had french TV! (which BTW we did not even want, but the landlady insisted we get it, because «how will you know things about the world, like the weather?» which is funny, because the weather can change drastically here in five minutes...the only way to know what the weather is doing is to go outside.)

The next day they came back and everything seemed fixed. The landlady brought us a new microwave, an extra fan, and she even bought me a teddy bear keychain!!

Things were not fixed. At night we realized the stove tops still weren't working and we still didn't have hot water. So for dinner, I attempted to make a frozen, microwavable «Creole» meal from the grocery store. You would think the instructions would be very basic, even though I didn't understand most of it:

Somehow, this «easy french meal» became an absolute disaster. It exploded in the microwave, leaving red creole juice everywhere. I was practically sobbing in the sink when my roommate walked in to laugh at me for a good period of time. Can't ANYTHING just be easy?!?!

The next day, it was Sunday. I now can tell you that I know what the world post-apocalypse will look like. It will look like the center village of Saint-Denis on a Sunday. Not ONE person was outside. Stores were so closed they were practically borded up. While walking down the street..completely alone...we ran into the only other people alive...our other American friends from the program. Apparently none of us got the memo about the world ending.

Needless to say, the concierge was not opening his door on Sunday. I had reached my breaking point of not being able to shower, so I angrily took the coldest shower of my life, cursing everyone on Reunion Island. Then I tried to wash my clothes in the washing machine, which we also cannot figure out. No matter what we do, the clothes come out soaking wet with gobs of soap on them. So I just washed them by hand in the sink.

By that point, I was pretty irrated, so we decided to go for a walk. Later, after MUCH discussion on the phone with the landlady (to which she could never give us any help) my roommate found a switch on her own that turned back on the hot water. Why the landlady did not know about this switch is beyond me. She also doesn't know how the washing machine works. We also learned that the elecricity for the stove top would never be turned back on, because they couldn't figure out why the hot plate wouldn't turn off. So to use the stove top, we have to turn on the gas valve and then put a lit match on the stove top to start the fire. This sounds disasterous but so far we haven't lit ourselves on fire. Yet.

So on Monday, with a warm shower to start my day and clean clothes on my back, I was in a much better mood. It was the day I had to run around town to go to my radiology appointment and my dr. appointment so I can get free french healthcare (yay!)

I got to the radiologie place super early because the French people scheduled my appointments within a half an hour from each other, which would be an impossibility even if it didn't take me 30 minutes alone just to walk from one place to the other. I should have looked up some key words before the appointment because it was super awkward. She was telling me to take off my shirt, I think, but I had like three shirts on and a bra, and I wasn't exactly sure if she was telling me to take off everything or to take off everything except the bra. It would've been seriously awkward if she was telling me to leave something on and I walked in totally naked. And it would have been equally awkward if I walked in there with clothes on when they were supposed to be all off, since she explained it to me very slowly and a million times. (Which couldn't have helped me since I simply didn't know the vocab.) Anyway I got through it and got out just in time to walk to my next appointment. Halfway to the next place, I got curious and pulled out my Xrays. Except they were the Xrays of a Mr. Ouahhabi, who is not me. Bravo.

Mr. Ouahhabi also seems to be in good health.

Luckily, I rememberd Mr. Ouahhali, and since he was alone and seemed to be my age, I was hoping we were doing the same thing and that I would run into him at the Dr. Appointment. Then we would be able to switch xrays.

Luckily, that is exactly what happened. I did not know what my back-up plan was, because the radiologie place was SO far away and kind of in a sketchy area. I was not looking forward to marching back there again OR having to reschedule my dr. appointment. Which actually I could've done because I waited for the next two hours for the doctor to «see» me...which meant he took my blood pressure and weighed me and signed a paper saying I was healthy enough to stay in France.

These are my ribs.

So after all that...success! We have a mostly functional living space and it should only be weeks before I get health care! Then I can accidentally light myself on fire every night!

This. Means. War.

During the day, my bed is just an ordinary couch. But at night...it becomes a war zone. Last night, I had a huge victory. It was the first night I did not get one mosquito bite!!!

The backstory: When I was little, we would drive to Northern Michigan at least one weekend a month to visit my Grandparents. They basically lived in the middle of the woods. My brother and I would play outside all day, and by the end of the night we would come in with these WELTS. I mean, like golfball sized bumps, protruding from our arms and legs. That is when it all began. The mosquitos loved me from an early age. For the rest of my life, I lived in stickiness...putting on gobs of bug spray to do outside activities when my friends would have no problem.

When I learned I would be moving to La Réunion, I started doing some research. One of the first things I read was that mosquitos here were terrible. I sighed. I knew that this war was coming. My first night here, P.A. put in some random electric «anti-moustique» thing in the socket next to my bed. Everyone sleeps with the windows open here because it's so nice outside. But it was never a problem, and I never thought about mosquitos again. Until I moved to the apartment....

The first night here I was sound asleep next to my giant opened window when I started feeling itchy. Once, twice, all different places. That's when I realized it...I was being attacked!!!! I sprang out of bed and turned on the light. It was 3am. In sheer terror, I realized I was unarmed. I didn't buy ANY bug spray or electric magic things! It was decided—I had to kill.

I left the light on and started to read my book...just waiting for another attack.

After ten minutes, I saw the enemy. I tried to make my skin look yummy, and to give off a nice, blood smell. He landed. POW!!! I swatted him. To no avail, he was too quick! It was like he already knew.

After a few more minutes he came back and landed next to my pillow. SWAT! Again I missed.

Asshole Mosquito.

A third time he landed on my arm and I swatted him again. I totally got him that time. Now tell me how this happens; I had a weird bug shaped smudge, almost like a snow angel, on my arm. But the bug body was nowhere to be found. I figured...you know...he was little, the body was probably flung somewhere in all the commotion; a casualty of war. I turned off the light and went to sleep, satisfied that I won the battle.

In ten minutes I iched my cheek and felt that familiar, disgusting mix of blood and mosquito body on my fingers. I smiled, finally at peace. But only for the night...

The next day I bought an arsenal. Electric magic thing, sprays, traps, everything you can possibly imagine.

For the next few nights, I sprayed my bed and myself down before I went to sleep. I would get bit in the middle of the night once or twice (nothing like the 20 times from that first night...) and I would just wake up, spray some more bug spray, and go back to sleep.

Last night I heard the bone chilling sound of buzzing in my ear. I shot straight up in bed, immidiately grabbed the bug spray next to my bed, sprayed again, and switched sides. I waited.

Nothing. I went back to sleep.

And today?? Five nights after the war began?? No bites!~ VICTORY IS MINE!

La Vie Quotidienne; The Daily Life

I've settled into a somewhat of a routine here. Granted, all of it will probably change in a week when I start teaching, but for now, here is a little taste of daily life in Saint-Denis.

6:30--We get up! The sun rises around 6:15, and Schafer gets up to go teach in the workshop she signed up for on break. I get up and eat breakfast...I am a morning person here!

Yep. That's an article about another shark attack. At least once per week now....prob staying out of the water for a while...

7:00--I walk to the other end of Rue de Paris in search of Wi-Fi, either to a cafe for another cup of coffee, or to the park next to the McDonald's. I catch up on emails, plot addresses I'm going to visit for the day on the map, etc. etc.

just a-walkin down the street...

9:00--I go back home. I study French! Watch French T.V, read Le Petit Prince, do some Rosetta Stone. I filmed a little bit of the soap opera I was watching yesterday because it was so hilarious, and if I ever figure out uploading videos here I will share it with you. It is so awesome there are no words. Additionally, we watched the French dubbed version of "Who's the Boss" this morning. Yes.

11:00-- I go on some kind of morning-time adventure. For example, grocery shopping, meeting up with my Agent for some reason, waiting at the apartment for the conceirge or landlady to come fix things that are broken, (like....the microwave that doesn't stop, the hot plate that hasn't turned off in two days, the gas stove top that doesn't turn on, the fact that we have no hot water...) etc etc.

12:00--Lunch!! Usually something like this, but the other day my french parents picked me up and I had a picnic with them and their family.

bread and cheese, tuna salad!

13:00--I take a nap. It's okay to be jealous.

I have to wear a sleep mask because the constant amazing sunlight and good weather disrupts my sleep! 

15:00--I go on an afternoon adventure. Lately, these adventures have all been dealing with getting ready for the fashion show, which was last night and was a seriously amazing experience. We started with hair/make-up at 4, and the show was at 8. They told us at 7 we could've invited two people, ahha. But luckily for me, my roommie was only blocks away so she came with another of the assistants to cheer me on! I was SO nervous but the show was amazing and I even got applause on my last dress (because of the dress, not me, but was still a great feeling!) The other models were SO nice to me and helped me as much as they could to understand the directions in French. We had so much fun, and after, the head of my agency came and congratulated me...and asked if we could meet weekly so I could help her learn english!! So I'm thinking this is a good sign for future jobs :-)

20:00--usually (unless there's a random fashion show...) Schafer and I will walk back to Macdo for some WiFi action again!~ 

22:00--Bed time!! The sun sets early, at 6:30, so by 10 I am super tired! 

And there you have it!! That is how I've been spending my days :-) What a rough life I lead...

Je suis un mannequin!!

Yesterday was the Big Move. Everything went amazingly well, because I have the best French family here that anyone could ask for. PA and Nathalie took me everywhere I needed to go to get the insane amount of money for a downpayment, helped me figure out the internet situation, and came to read the contract and meet the landlady before I signed something I only half understood. I was really proud and happy they approved of the apartment, and I was more than a little sad when they left to go back home. I miss them already!!

But the apartment is great and my roommate, Schafer, and I had a great time unpacking, grocery shopping, and running around trying to figure out the internet thing. Which we did. We make a pretty good team! We celebrated with a bottle of wine and a nice, home cooked dinner :-)

In the middle of all of this I received a phone call from my mondeling agent...she booked a job for me! I reluctantly called her back...I'm terrifed of speaking on the phone in French b/c you don't get the body language to help you understand. But I did it, and I understood *enough*...I was to meet a lady to discuss somthing that was taking place on Friday. Also, she told me to make myself pretty.

This morning I woke up, put makeup on for the first time in a while, and actually did my hair. I decided to go with heels despite the crooked, tiny sidewalks...the store was surprisingly close to my apartment so I shouldn't have had any problems. (Again, shouldn't have...) So I get to the store Mango (which is actually a huge name, I didn't realize until I researched last night!) at 10h00, and of course they are not opened yet. The stores here have strange hours...they also closed for two hours at lunch. Anyway, I shopped around for a while and came back and talked to the girl at the counter, explaining why I was there. (YAY! French speaking success!) She called someone to come meet me, and soon I was being rushed upstairs. I thought that I was just there to meet them,; to see if they liked me enough to use me in a shoot...maybe for their online store? I wasn't sure. But they kept saying "défilé" which I assumed what they called the meeting we were going to have.

Instead, I was in a room full of clothes and the lady was handing dresses at me, telling me to strip. After the 5th or 6th outfit it finally dawned on me what défilé meant...it was a fashion show!! I would be walking the runway, NOT modeling for a camera, which I know how to do and is a lot less scary. After we determined what my American sizes translated to in French clothing, she chose maybe ten outfits for me. It was SO hot. There was no air, we were in a tiny corner, and I was pulling these tiny dresses off and on, trying my best to avoid painting them with my running make-up. She told me not to worry for Friday, because there would be a person to help us dress backstage.

Then she showed me the runway they were making. It was upstairs on the roof! They had a red carpet and a space cleared for chairs for their clients. She explained to me how to walk, where to pause, and to smile always. My heart started beating fast.

So I have a rehearsal tomorrow, make-up and hair at 4 on Friday and the show starts at 7. There are going to be 4 other models with me, all from Réunion. I am SO excited.

Then I started walking home. I got lost. I was in heels and let me tell you, no ruck march I ever did in the Army was as painful as walking for an hour in the sun, in heels, on the crooked streets of Saint-Denis. FINALLY I found my street and with each careful step, I made it to my apartment building. I took the elevator and breathed a sigh of releif when I pressed the button for the third floor. I turned around to glance in the mirror, my make-up was smeared everywhere, I looked like a racoon.

Oh wait...what the--?? Yep. There is some giant black wasp-like insect on my head.

I took a second to breathe and tried to gently nudge it off with my sunglasses. It grasped down harder onto my hair and stuck out its giant stinger. Great. The door opened on my floor, and I got out into the hall, sticking my head into the elevator and at the same time, twisting my ankle on my heels since my feet decided at that moment that they were done walking. The light in the hallway went out. (They are on timers to save energy, they last like a minute or so.)  That's when I freaked out. Thank GOD no one was in the hallway, because they would have seen a raccoon looking girl doing a very strange dance in the dark...trying not to scream, but definitely swearing in many languages.

Anyway, I think the insect landed somewhere in the elevator. I am not sure though because I did not look back when I ran into the apartment and slammed the door behind me.

It's a Great Big World

On Friday, I ventured to the southern part of the island because one of the veteran language teaching assistants was throwing a BBQ at the school she founded. A lot of the assistants this year are stationed down south, so I packed my adventure bag for an overnight stay with whomever and hopped on a zipline bus on my own. I figured I'd meet someone at the BBQ that I could stay with, and someone who would want to explore something the next day. A definite open book adventure.

The BBQ was pretty fun...

And my time spent the last couple days getting to know the other assistants has been very eye opening. I guess I've never really sat down with such a large group of people from so many different countries and learned about their daily lives. I listened to this one girl from Ireland talk about the conflicts there...the hunger strikes...things i learned breifly somewhere down the line in my education but never really thought about too hard. I met a girl from Germany who speaks four languages fluently and has studied at these amazing schools all over the world. In fact, most people in that room spoke at least three languages...have lived in different countries for a period of time, and really, just knew stuff about the world. And it makes you a little intimidated, you know, to talk to them...like do you ask about these crazy things about their country? Does it make you sound ignorant if you don't really know the story behind the Irish Potato Famine? My only basis for comparison is that I worked at a British themed pub for the last four years and we had branston pickle relish and celebreated St. Patty's Day--haha maybe that's something I should keep to myself?? Either way, it did really make me want to research some more history and geography of these places my new friends come from.

So...here's what the south of the island looks like:

a whale! 

And if you're wondering what to do on the beaches when it's too windy and you don't want to swim....(it IS winter here, after all...)

scrabble! the shimatz side of the family should be proud right about now...

And since I make it a point to study a little bit of french every night before I go to sleep, I'm going to share some French that I've been hearing a lot lately....

Apartment: FOUND!

The search is over!! After a LOT of thinking and reseraching, I decided my priorities were in this order:

1.) Location is in walking distance to both of my schools (after my constant bus mishaps, I hope to have to ride it only sparingly from now on...)

2.) Living conditions are nice (I prefer to not live in a corner next to a exercise machine in the family room, not to  have to stash my clothes in a drawer in the bathroom, which I share with three other people, and to have a shower with walls....and yes, these conditions are normal and have all happened in other places I checked out.)

3.) Price within 300-400 euros total

4.) Live with a french person so I am forced to speak french!!

5.) Furnished


The apartment I decided on is not all of these things perfectly. For example, it costs 390 euros per month but doesn't include internet, and if we go over 40 euros on gas/electric, we pay the rest...so it could cost me up to 450 euros a month, which is WAY more than some places I looked at, but....

It is SOO pretty!! And it is furnished, and decorated in a way that is so me...the colors and the art, it's beautiful. And the kitchen has a giant window that opens out into the street, and has a view of the ocean. The bathroom is modern, the shower has walls! (yay) and we have a washing machine for clothes! And the best part is it is in the center of downtown, right by the most happening streets, (though I use that term loosely, everything closes at like 8pm) and just a 10 min walk to both my schools!!

I'm going to live with an American from D.C., which kind of was sad for my french progression, but she is more fluent than me now and we decided to try to only speak in french and to watch french TV and listen to music all the time :-) and of course make a lot of french friends downtown!

Here are some pics! I'll take better ones when we move in...there is a couple living there now and they are moving out Tuesday morning so we are moving in Tuesday evening!! Can't wait!!

kitchen with super giant window into the street and ocean! 

Foyer

living room/my bed! 

modern bathroom! 

other bed---the bedroom

other side of living room/dining area

The ups and downs.

If you had asked me a couple of days ago how things were going, I think I might have done a little something like burst into tears. I figured it out, though, I'm going through a phase. I've come to believe that moving to a foreign country is a 7 phase process:

Phase 1: When you first decide/find out you're moving, you are nervous and excited. And somewhat numb to it because it seems so far away. You ask yourself: "Am I really going to go through with this? Will it actually happen?!"

Phase 2: The second phase is planning/preparation/STRESS. You are eager to get on the plane and leave it all behind.

Phase 3: The third phase begins when you arrive in country and everything is new and excting. It doesn't even matter if you're jet lagged because you never want to go to sleep anyway since everything is so super-awesome!!

Phase 4: I entered the fourth phase two days ago when I went to a meeting with the head of the schools I will be teaching at. Besides making the horrifying discovery that I actually DON'T know French as well as I thought...(I understood like maybe 10% of what she said...the official vocab and how fast she was talking made it pretty impossible for me...) she made it clear that I was being closely watched, and as they have never had an assistant at their school before, I would be the determining factor as to if she participates in the program ever again. So no pressure.

So phase four is when you go backwards. Everything is scary and all you want to do is lock yourself in a room, listen to english music, and decide that you DON'T want to learn French anymore, that it's basically impossible, and you KNOW because you've been trying to do it for YEARS!!!!! Oh, and because of your newfound lack of confidence, you basically forget all the French you DID know and lose the ability to talk at all.

Phase 5: This is where I am now. Phase 5 is when you go back and forth between optomism and utter defeat. Probably within hours. Since that meeting, I have had very triumphant moments....like when I walked all over downtown Saint-Denis...(the old fashioned way with my adventure bag on my back, my two feet, and a map!) ...and I found these VERY hidden modeling agencies where I conducted my interviews entirely in French. I also had random conversations with people in a pharmacie, the post office, and the bus.

However.

On the same day, I struggled immensely while forming even just basic sentences with my French family, made an idiot out of myself a few times (like when I asked the lady at the gas station how many midnights it would take to get somewhere, instead of minutes.) And had to hold back tears of frustration while engaging in the impossible task of finding an apartment. Sometimes I feel I'm progressing and in control, and sometimes I feel like I'm a total failure and I'm never going to get where I want to. Uggh.

Phases 6 and 7: I don't know what phase 6 is yet because of I haven't gotten there. But I really am hopeful that something better comes after where I am now!!!! Stage 7 is there because I feel like there is probably like a "wrap up" stage where you come full circle and are a better person for going through all the other crap.

So there you have it. The 7 Stages of Moving to a Forgien Country. Am I screaming, or enjoying the ride? Maybe a little of both. I've always been a little indecisive :-)