All Things French
It is my last night in Paris and I am not prepared to leave a life that involves seeing the Tour Eiffel, going to the Musée du Louvre, shopping on the Champs Élysées, picnicking on the Pont des Arts, and all things French.
Now, I encountered many “French” experiences while in Paris. I have become accustomed to the French way of greeting (two kisses rather than a handshake), the French way of dining (good French food continued by hours of conversation), the French way of transportation (taking the metro/walking everywhere), and the French way of speaking (in French of course!).
The other day while buying a gift, the (middle-aged) woman at the counter saw what I was buying and said, “C’est chouette!” (That’s cool/neat!) I was so excited when I heard her say this because it is a phrase that I learned in one of my French classes with Madame. I couldn’t believe people actually said that! (Younger people say the more common “C’est cool!”) I am so fascinated by and immersed in the French language and Parisian culture that leaving seems like an enormous effort and adjustment at this moment.
The last few days in Paris have been beautiful, “California weather” days. Clo, Daniel and I spent Saturday in the Montparnasse quarter of Paris—an area full of great restaurants and beautiful architecture. We went to sushi for lunch and then visited the church where the “Da Vinci Code” was filmed. We stopped by an English book store near a street full of English pubs—it reminded me of Oxford. After exploring the streets of Montparnasse, we took pictures in the dazzling Luxembourg gardens. The flowers were blooming with color and there was a bride and groom getting their picture taken. We stopped by the Tour Eiffel (along with thousands of other tourists) on the way home.
Sunday might just be my favorite day in Paris. I woke up to the sun shining brightly through the window. We had a big English brunch—bacon, crumpets, and tomatoes soaked in balsamic vinegar. After brunch, I spent the day in Montmarte—hands down my favorite place in Paris. Montmarte almost seems to have its own culture. There is a “living life for each moment and each day as it comes” sort of vibe here that is unlike anywhere else I’ve encountered in Paris.
The streets are long and narrow, at first full of tourists going to see the Sacré Coeur and then locals buying baguettes at the boulangerie. The Sacré Coeur is possibly my favorite basilica in the world. Walking up to this impressive cathedral, there are people everywhere—tourists and Parisians alike—sitting on the steps, lying on the grass, deep in conversation while enjoying the sun. There are street performers singing, dancing, and playing instruments hoping for tips and entertaining the crowds of people. Inside the Sacré Coeur, you can’t help but want to say a prayer of thanks to God for letting you experience such beauty. Even among thousands of people inside the basilica, I felt like I was sharing a moment between me and God. I lit a candle and said a prayer of remembrance for Uncle Dan, Aunt Grace, Jamie, Br. Richard, and Matt before leaving. I spent the next few hours wondering around Montmarte. I had my fourth nutella crépe of the trip, spent some time people watching, and speaking French (as best I could) with some of the locals.
Tonight, sadly, was my last night in Paris and it could not have been more perfect (or more “French”). My friend Danielle told me about the “Pont des Arts experience” when she found out I was going to Paris, and I am so grateful to her because tonight was one of the most amazing nights I’ve had in all of my travels. Clo, Daniel and I went to the Pont des Arts for sunset tonight—a bridge on the Seine River behind the Louvre. We picked up a bottle of good French wine and some baguette, ham, cheese, and tomatoes on the way. When we got there, hundreds of people (both locals and tourists) were enjoying good food, good wine, and good company just as we did while watching the sun set over the Seine. Believe it or not, this is a nightly occurrence for many in Paris.
I am leaving in six hours for Italy—a place I know is full of adventures just waiting for my arrival. I will miss Paris as if it were my home, but I am excited to speak Italian, eat Italian food, and experience “la dolce vita.” Buona notte e ci vediamo in Italia!
xoxo
Kel
9.08.2009
9.04.2009
Paris, je t'aime
DAY 2 EN PARIS
The next morning, we took the bus back to Clo’s apartment. Taking the bus in a foreign country is always an adventure. It is a great place to people watch as well as see the sights of Paris, including the many very wealthy neighborhoods here. I had a great French experience when we got back. Clo and I were making something for lunch and we realized we needed butter. Naturally, I volunteered to go buy some. I walked into the market and asked, “Ou est le beurre?” After finding the type I was looking for, I checked out and spoke a little more French. On the way home, I was mistaken for a local by another local asking for directions. Of course I had no idea what she was saying, so sadly I had to say, “Je suis desolée. Je ne parle pas le fracais” (I’m sorry, I don’t speak French).
Clo and I hopped back on the bus after lunch and headed to the Arc de Triomph. Standing underneath the Arc, it is enormous…and swarming with tourists. We took some pictures and then walked down the Champs Élysées—an experience that falls under one of the many reasons why I love Paris so much. The Champs Élysées makes you feel somehow sophisticated and joyful in an inexplicable way.
On the way home, we stopped at a gourmet market just outside the metro. This was a French market that had many international foods and some of the loveliest fruits and vegetables I’ve ever seen. The peaches were perfectly round and red-orange and the cherry tomatoes are shine. We bought some baguette and cheese from Holland and had a quiet night inside after a tiring day. We watched “The Devil Wears Prada” and said “bonne nuit.”
DAY 3 EN PARIS
I haven’t talked much about the weather, which isn’t a particularly interesting subject except for the fact that it’s raining, windy, and very very cold here in Paris this morning. I decided that it was a good museum day. The plan was to go to both the Louvre and the Musée d’Orsay, however I ended up spending all of my time in the Louvre. I stopped by a café on the way to the Louvre for some delicious pain au chocolat. Walking into the Louvre courtyard to see the giant pyramids right in front of you is always an exciting moment. You feel like you’re walking into Dan Brown’s book The Da Vinci Code. Because I was by myself, I kept asking people (in French, English, and Spanish) to take pictures of me after offering to take pictures of them. Although I don’t love being around other tourists when I travel, I do love meeting tourists who are as nice as the one’s I met today. I spent almost 4 hours in the Louvre looking at Egyptian artifacts, Greek sculptures, and Spanish, Italian, and French paintings. I don’t know why I love art museums as much as I do.
After the Louvre, I spent a few hours walking around the tourist and non-tourist parts of the area surrounding the museum. There is always something new to discover around every corner in Paris—a gorgeous church, a historic building, an outdoor market.
After spending some time getting lost in the streets of Paris, I went to Longchamp to buy my purse. I am getting a little more confident with my French as the days pass. Longchamp was busy, so I decided to be bold and ask one of the sales people to help me. I said, “Excusez-moi, parlez-vous l’anglais?” to which she responded a hesitant, “Une petite peau.” I decided it would be easier to speak French, so I showed her the bag I wanted, but asked for a smaller size and a different color—all in French. She then spoke to me as if I was fluent in French. I didn’t understand most of what she said, but I had fun trying! Paris, je t'aime.
Bonne nuit et a bientot!
The next morning, we took the bus back to Clo’s apartment. Taking the bus in a foreign country is always an adventure. It is a great place to people watch as well as see the sights of Paris, including the many very wealthy neighborhoods here. I had a great French experience when we got back. Clo and I were making something for lunch and we realized we needed butter. Naturally, I volunteered to go buy some. I walked into the market and asked, “Ou est le beurre?” After finding the type I was looking for, I checked out and spoke a little more French. On the way home, I was mistaken for a local by another local asking for directions. Of course I had no idea what she was saying, so sadly I had to say, “Je suis desolée. Je ne parle pas le fracais” (I’m sorry, I don’t speak French).
Clo and I hopped back on the bus after lunch and headed to the Arc de Triomph. Standing underneath the Arc, it is enormous…and swarming with tourists. We took some pictures and then walked down the Champs Élysées—an experience that falls under one of the many reasons why I love Paris so much. The Champs Élysées makes you feel somehow sophisticated and joyful in an inexplicable way.
On the way home, we stopped at a gourmet market just outside the metro. This was a French market that had many international foods and some of the loveliest fruits and vegetables I’ve ever seen. The peaches were perfectly round and red-orange and the cherry tomatoes are shine. We bought some baguette and cheese from Holland and had a quiet night inside after a tiring day. We watched “The Devil Wears Prada” and said “bonne nuit.”
DAY 3 EN PARIS
I haven’t talked much about the weather, which isn’t a particularly interesting subject except for the fact that it’s raining, windy, and very very cold here in Paris this morning. I decided that it was a good museum day. The plan was to go to both the Louvre and the Musée d’Orsay, however I ended up spending all of my time in the Louvre. I stopped by a café on the way to the Louvre for some delicious pain au chocolat. Walking into the Louvre courtyard to see the giant pyramids right in front of you is always an exciting moment. You feel like you’re walking into Dan Brown’s book The Da Vinci Code. Because I was by myself, I kept asking people (in French, English, and Spanish) to take pictures of me after offering to take pictures of them. Although I don’t love being around other tourists when I travel, I do love meeting tourists who are as nice as the one’s I met today. I spent almost 4 hours in the Louvre looking at Egyptian artifacts, Greek sculptures, and Spanish, Italian, and French paintings. I don’t know why I love art museums as much as I do.
After the Louvre, I spent a few hours walking around the tourist and non-tourist parts of the area surrounding the museum. There is always something new to discover around every corner in Paris—a gorgeous church, a historic building, an outdoor market.
After spending some time getting lost in the streets of Paris, I went to Longchamp to buy my purse. I am getting a little more confident with my French as the days pass. Longchamp was busy, so I decided to be bold and ask one of the sales people to help me. I said, “Excusez-moi, parlez-vous l’anglais?” to which she responded a hesitant, “Une petite peau.” I decided it would be easier to speak French, so I showed her the bag I wanted, but asked for a smaller size and a different color—all in French. She then spoke to me as if I was fluent in French. I didn’t understand most of what she said, but I had fun trying! Paris, je t'aime.
Bonne nuit et a bientot!
Au revoir California, Bonjour Paris!
Last Monday, I started my journey from San Francisco to Spain (with a few stops along the way). I spent last weekend saying goodbye to the people I will miss and think about every day. Saturday night I said goodbye to the Lauck’s at our bbq, Sunday I said goodbye to my grandparents at their annual block party, and Sunday night I said goodbye to Remi, Sarah, Grace, Janet, and Anna. Finally, Monday, I said goodbye to my family at the airport. Luckily, Mom, Dad, and Jeff always know how to make me smile. At the airport, they must have said goodbye (waving, smiling, and making funny faces) at least 50 times moving from one side of the security line to the other to make sure I saw them. Saying goodbye was as it always is—ultimately sad, but the excitement always seems to overshadow the gloom. I said goodbye, but it was more of a “be seeing you” kind of goodbye. I am also lucky to be greeted in Europe by good friends that feel like family—Clo in Paris, the Caruso’s in Italy, and Jesús in Madrid.
I arrived in Paris via London on Monday evening and was so happy that I actually made it to Clo’s apartment. I had to ask the taxi driver (in French) to take me to her apartment. Now, my French is barely comprehensible, so saying "Bonjour, pouvais-vous m’amener a cette adresse s’il vous plait?" correctly was no small task. I must have asked the question somewhat correctly because I arrived in Paris about an hour later at Clo’s place. The apartment is just outside of the Paris city line (Paris is one street over) in a non-touristy part of town. There is a school next door, a pharmacy on the corner, a market on the other corner, and a boulangerie not far. That night we were both exhausted from flying, so after a mozzarella and tomato/croque monsieur dinner, we went to sleep…and woke a few hours later at 5:00am. I hate being jetlagged.
DAY 1 EN PARIS
My first day in Paris was the perfect “lazy day.” I spent the morning reading, listening to the fire truck test sirens that are sound every first Wednesday of the month, and eating a typical French breakfast—croissant and pain au chocolat. That afternoon, Clo and I walked around the Galeries de Lafayette—a ridiculously luxurious shopping mall filled with make-up, jewelry, and purses that make you wish that, just for your week in Paris, you were a millionaire. I fell in love with a Longchamp purse—one that is simple, fashionable, and practical all at once. This bag is beautiful and almost every girl in Paris has one. I am excited to say that I finally bought one today with the money my Grandma Gloria and Grandpa Pat gave me to spend in Europe.
After walking around the Galeries, we went to Ladurée (http://www.laduree.fr/) to buy macarons. These are no normal macaroons—they taste like heaven and I’m quite sure they were made by God himself. These specific macaroons are typically Parisian—all the locals know that macaroons from Ladurée are the best you will ever find and they are only in Paris. They are expensive and there are many different flavors. I bought 6 different flavors, including Framboise (raspberry), Citron (lemon), Vanille (vanilla), Caramel á la fleure de sel (caramel with salted butter), Cassis violette (blackcurrant violet), and Fleur d’orange (Orange blossom). We brought our macaroons to the Café du Capucine in the quartier de l’Opera near the famous Opera house in Paris where we sat down for a cup of coffee that came with a strawberry meringue and a piece of chocolate.
We then met Clo’s boyfriend Daniel at his school and went back to his apartment for an evening of good food (appetizers—bread and paté & dinner—salmon pasta) and good (mostly French) conversation with Daniel’s roommates in which I tried to understand but struggled to participate in.
It was a great first day en Paris and I can't wait for more adventures to come.
I arrived in Paris via London on Monday evening and was so happy that I actually made it to Clo’s apartment. I had to ask the taxi driver (in French) to take me to her apartment. Now, my French is barely comprehensible, so saying "Bonjour, pouvais-vous m’amener a cette adresse s’il vous plait?" correctly was no small task. I must have asked the question somewhat correctly because I arrived in Paris about an hour later at Clo’s place. The apartment is just outside of the Paris city line (Paris is one street over) in a non-touristy part of town. There is a school next door, a pharmacy on the corner, a market on the other corner, and a boulangerie not far. That night we were both exhausted from flying, so after a mozzarella and tomato/croque monsieur dinner, we went to sleep…and woke a few hours later at 5:00am. I hate being jetlagged.
DAY 1 EN PARIS
My first day in Paris was the perfect “lazy day.” I spent the morning reading, listening to the fire truck test sirens that are sound every first Wednesday of the month, and eating a typical French breakfast—croissant and pain au chocolat. That afternoon, Clo and I walked around the Galeries de Lafayette—a ridiculously luxurious shopping mall filled with make-up, jewelry, and purses that make you wish that, just for your week in Paris, you were a millionaire. I fell in love with a Longchamp purse—one that is simple, fashionable, and practical all at once. This bag is beautiful and almost every girl in Paris has one. I am excited to say that I finally bought one today with the money my Grandma Gloria and Grandpa Pat gave me to spend in Europe.
After walking around the Galeries, we went to Ladurée (http://www.laduree.fr/) to buy macarons. These are no normal macaroons—they taste like heaven and I’m quite sure they were made by God himself. These specific macaroons are typically Parisian—all the locals know that macaroons from Ladurée are the best you will ever find and they are only in Paris. They are expensive and there are many different flavors. I bought 6 different flavors, including Framboise (raspberry), Citron (lemon), Vanille (vanilla), Caramel á la fleure de sel (caramel with salted butter), Cassis violette (blackcurrant violet), and Fleur d’orange (Orange blossom). We brought our macaroons to the Café du Capucine in the quartier de l’Opera near the famous Opera house in Paris where we sat down for a cup of coffee that came with a strawberry meringue and a piece of chocolate.
We then met Clo’s boyfriend Daniel at his school and went back to his apartment for an evening of good food (appetizers—bread and paté & dinner—salmon pasta) and good (mostly French) conversation with Daniel’s roommates in which I tried to understand but struggled to participate in.
It was a great first day en Paris and I can't wait for more adventures to come.
8.10.2009
Please Love Your Life
I was having trouble figuring out what to title this entry (an important detail when I only update once every other month!) when I came across a book in a Japanese book store entitled Chinglish –a book full of signs, billboards, and other random messages in Chinglish (technically a mix between Chinese in English, but in this book Chinese phrases translated into English). As I flipped through the hilarious and sometimes confusing book of badly translated Chinese, I found a billboard in Chinese that translated to “Please love your life.” For some reason, I just love this quote. It reminds me of the many reasons I do love my life.
So my summer has been filled with swim team, lessons, “babysitting” (i.e. hanging out with Sar), a trip to my elementary school to visit my 2nd grade teacher, “So you think you can Dance,” a few meetings with some of my old SMC professors, my 5-year high school reunion, and a recent trip up to Berkeley for a barbeque turned sleepover.
Swim team ended three weeks ago and I miss it already. Lately, I have been thinking a lot about where and when I want to go back to school for my MA and eventual doctorate. I hate to think that I might, sometime in the near future, have to give up coaching for the summer in order to pursue my other love—school. I met with my mentor and old Spanish professor, Lori, from St. Mary’s the other day and every time I see her, I am so inspired to continue my studies in Spanish language, culture, and linguistics—a love she instilled in me five years ago during my first college Spanish course. I see the joy and happiness her studies and teaching career have brought her and I can’t help but want to do what she does.
Swim season, as always, was fantastic this year. There is nothing better than seeing my swimmers’ smiles after getting a personal best or seeing my swimmers cheer for each other at the meets. Lessons were equally great this summer. I give lessons mostly to kids who are on the swim team, and it is so fun to see how they use what they learn in lessons during practice and in the meets! I am of course proud of all of my swimmers, but I am especially proud of a few swimmers I’ve been coaching for a couple of summers. I started coaching Christopher 3 summers ago and I am so proud of him for not only passing the swim test this year, but also learning how to swim backstroke, butterfly, and dive. I am also proud of Darian and Remi, who both improved tremendously this year in their strokes and in their times. And I am proud of Sarah, who I have been coaching for 4 summers, for always working hard and continuing to improve. My swimmers never fail to impress me.
The most recent highlight of my summer was my trip to San Diego this past weekend to visit my best friend Megan. We had a blast touring USD, going to the Padres game, shopping, coloring, watching movies and Disney channel shows, hanging out at the beach, taking pictures, eating pupusas, and reminiscing about high school. THANK YOU for having me Meg—this will definitely be remembered as a truly exceptional weekend and I’m sure some part of the weekend will be in a speech at each other’s weddings someday.
I don’t want to write too much more, but before I say “ciao,” I do need ask, or rather make a request that you all “PLEASE LOVE YOUR LIFE,” and know why you love it.
Arrivederci,
Kel
P.S. I think that SYTYCD is one of the most inspiring and amazing shows on television--as one of the judges said, "I don't feel like I watched a dance. I feel like I had an experience."
So my summer has been filled with swim team, lessons, “babysitting” (i.e. hanging out with Sar), a trip to my elementary school to visit my 2nd grade teacher, “So you think you can Dance,” a few meetings with some of my old SMC professors, my 5-year high school reunion, and a recent trip up to Berkeley for a barbeque turned sleepover.
Swim team ended three weeks ago and I miss it already. Lately, I have been thinking a lot about where and when I want to go back to school for my MA and eventual doctorate. I hate to think that I might, sometime in the near future, have to give up coaching for the summer in order to pursue my other love—school. I met with my mentor and old Spanish professor, Lori, from St. Mary’s the other day and every time I see her, I am so inspired to continue my studies in Spanish language, culture, and linguistics—a love she instilled in me five years ago during my first college Spanish course. I see the joy and happiness her studies and teaching career have brought her and I can’t help but want to do what she does.
Swim season, as always, was fantastic this year. There is nothing better than seeing my swimmers’ smiles after getting a personal best or seeing my swimmers cheer for each other at the meets. Lessons were equally great this summer. I give lessons mostly to kids who are on the swim team, and it is so fun to see how they use what they learn in lessons during practice and in the meets! I am of course proud of all of my swimmers, but I am especially proud of a few swimmers I’ve been coaching for a couple of summers. I started coaching Christopher 3 summers ago and I am so proud of him for not only passing the swim test this year, but also learning how to swim backstroke, butterfly, and dive. I am also proud of Darian and Remi, who both improved tremendously this year in their strokes and in their times. And I am proud of Sarah, who I have been coaching for 4 summers, for always working hard and continuing to improve. My swimmers never fail to impress me.
The most recent highlight of my summer was my trip to San Diego this past weekend to visit my best friend Megan. We had a blast touring USD, going to the Padres game, shopping, coloring, watching movies and Disney channel shows, hanging out at the beach, taking pictures, eating pupusas, and reminiscing about high school. THANK YOU for having me Meg—this will definitely be remembered as a truly exceptional weekend and I’m sure some part of the weekend will be in a speech at each other’s weddings someday.
I don’t want to write too much more, but before I say “ciao,” I do need ask, or rather make a request that you all “PLEASE LOVE YOUR LIFE,” and know why you love it.
Arrivederci,
Kel
P.S. I think that SYTYCD is one of the most inspiring and amazing shows on television--as one of the judges said, "I don't feel like I watched a dance. I feel like I had an experience."
7.30.2009
Catching up
So I have been meaning to post this since June—June 10th to be exact, my last day at Mount…
On my first day of teaching at Mt. Diablo High School in January, I was given clear and specific advice from all 3 other foreign language teachers on how to survive the apparently difficult semester ahead: “KEEP ALCOHOL,” they told me. At first, I was a little shocked by this piece of advice. "Are you kidding me?!?!," I thought. I mean, this is ME we’re talking about—the girl who is poured half a glass of wine and almost never finishes it; the girl who had only one glass of sangria on her 21st birthday; the girl who just recently went to her first bar in the United States and had a drink that wasn’t even a real drink. How on earth would alcohol help get me through the semester? As I sit here on the eve of my final day of teaching at Mount enjoying a glass of 2004’ (the year I graduated Mitty...coincidence?) Merlot from Chile, I am not sure that I will every fully understand why exactly it was that all of my colleagues were so unanimous in their counsel to me. But I can say that having a glass of wine after a long day of teaching, bad or good, always helped me to relax and unwind; to not think about the struggles many of my students face when they go home; and, most happily, to celebrate my students and their never-ending ability to amaze and inspire me.
I cannot believe that I am no longer a teacher at MDHS. The last few days of school were spent reviewing in preparation for finals. My Spanish 1 classes took a traditional final exam, but my Spanish 2 students had the choice of writing an original children’s book or creating a music video in Spanish. I just have to say that I am extremely proud of my 4th period students who chose to do the music video project. Many of the students I recommended do this project were apprehensive at first because they had to perform the music video in front of the class. When it came down to the day of the final, though, I was blown away by most of my students’ creativity and performances. Watching students do something with confidence and enthusiasm that they never thought they could do is why I think I love teaching so much, and especially why I loved teaching at Mount.
The last day of school was slightly liberating, but mostly bittersweet. Most of my students did not come to school that day, but the ones who did come are those I am sure to miss the most. I spent the day signing yearbooks, sharing my study abroad stories and scrapbooks, and saying goodbye and good luck. Our St. Mary’s cohort went out to Chili’s to “celebrate” surviving our first year of teaching. We talked about our “last-day” experiences, gossiped about our infamous students, and shared our most embarrassing, worst, and best moments of the year. The perfect ending to a challenging yet wonderful first year of teaching.
On my first day of teaching at Mt. Diablo High School in January, I was given clear and specific advice from all 3 other foreign language teachers on how to survive the apparently difficult semester ahead: “KEEP ALCOHOL,” they told me. At first, I was a little shocked by this piece of advice. "Are you kidding me?!?!," I thought. I mean, this is ME we’re talking about—the girl who is poured half a glass of wine and almost never finishes it; the girl who had only one glass of sangria on her 21st birthday; the girl who just recently went to her first bar in the United States and had a drink that wasn’t even a real drink. How on earth would alcohol help get me through the semester? As I sit here on the eve of my final day of teaching at Mount enjoying a glass of 2004’ (the year I graduated Mitty...coincidence?) Merlot from Chile, I am not sure that I will every fully understand why exactly it was that all of my colleagues were so unanimous in their counsel to me. But I can say that having a glass of wine after a long day of teaching, bad or good, always helped me to relax and unwind; to not think about the struggles many of my students face when they go home; and, most happily, to celebrate my students and their never-ending ability to amaze and inspire me.
I cannot believe that I am no longer a teacher at MDHS. The last few days of school were spent reviewing in preparation for finals. My Spanish 1 classes took a traditional final exam, but my Spanish 2 students had the choice of writing an original children’s book or creating a music video in Spanish. I just have to say that I am extremely proud of my 4th period students who chose to do the music video project. Many of the students I recommended do this project were apprehensive at first because they had to perform the music video in front of the class. When it came down to the day of the final, though, I was blown away by most of my students’ creativity and performances. Watching students do something with confidence and enthusiasm that they never thought they could do is why I think I love teaching so much, and especially why I loved teaching at Mount.
The last day of school was slightly liberating, but mostly bittersweet. Most of my students did not come to school that day, but the ones who did come are those I am sure to miss the most. I spent the day signing yearbooks, sharing my study abroad stories and scrapbooks, and saying goodbye and good luck. Our St. Mary’s cohort went out to Chili’s to “celebrate” surviving our first year of teaching. We talked about our “last-day” experiences, gossiped about our infamous students, and shared our most embarrassing, worst, and best moments of the year. The perfect ending to a challenging yet wonderful first year of teaching.
6.07.2009
Attraversiamo
Hello to all of my (not so) faithful readers. I have decided to update my blog, well, simply because today is the three month anniversary since I last updated on March 7th.
First, I should start by saying that I am three days away from being done with my first year of “teaching.” I am not sure I can rightly call what I have been doing all year (and especially this semester) teaching, but I’m not sure what else to call my many challenging but altogether extraordinary experiences at Stanley Middle School and Mt. Diablo High School.
So what has happened in my life in the past three months? More than I will ever be able to explain here. As you all can see, I am not so great at keeping people updated on my life. I have been good at keeping myself updated, though. In my three month absence from blogging, I have been writing (to myself?) about my wonderful, devastating, and simultaneously seemingly life-changing recent life events.
Here are some things I wrote after my 6-day visit to Mexico in April!
Hola y lo siento que no he escrito en tanto tiempo… ¡acabo de regresar de México! I’ve been back in the States for a little more than 24 hours now and I am already back in my “Oh my gosh, how will I ever get everything done?!” routine. To be honest though, I don’t feel much like being productive. Being in Mexico is like being in paradise—you never want to leave, no matter how much you know you have to. I left for Mexico at 6:00am on Good Friday and before I knew it I was in the Mexico City airport where I seemed to be having one of those out of body experiences. As I walked around the airport, I could read every sign, understand everyone, and say almost anything I wanted to in a language I cannot call my own. It was like God had sprinkled some fairy dust on me and I could suddenly speak in Spanish without hesitation or restriction. I mean, I always tell people, “Oh yes, I’m fluent in Spanish,” but I don’t think I ever really believed myself until last week. I got on the Pullman de Morelos bus and headed for Cuernavaca. When we finally arrived, I could hardly contain my excitement.
It was then that I got in the first of many taxis I would take before my trip’s end. The taxi drivers in Mexico (most of them anyway) always give you an experience to remember. This particular taxi driver happened to be on the phone (there really are no driving laws in Mexico). He was not talking, but rather yelling at the person on the other line (his boss), exclaiming, “¡Oye! ¡No es justo! No debe de llevar los tenis al trabajo. Yo no los llevo, entonces él no debe llevarlos tampoco. ¡No es profesional!” (“Hey! It’s not fair! He shouldn’t wear tennis shoes to work. I don’t wear them, so he shouldn’t either. It’s not professional!”) This argument continued on for about five more minutes and included some profanity I am now accustomed to hearing from my high school students. I almost couldn’t believe what I was hearing because my taxi driver was wearing a neon-colored Hawaiian shirt, jean shorts, black socks, and fancy dress loafers. His choice of clothing was, in my opinion, worse than wearing tennis shoes with khakis and a nice polo shirt. When he finally got off the phone, he spent the rest of the taxi ride complaining to me about his colleague who wore tennis shoes to work that day.
In my short time in Mexico, I took 12 taxis and had one other extremely memorable taxi ride. It came on my third day in Cuernavaca. I walked to Superama (one of the only all-inclusive grocery stores in Mexico) to get some pandulce for breakfast. On my way out, I grabbed a taxi to go to the Zócalo for a typical Cuernavaca day. When I got in the taxi the driver asked me where in Mexico I lived. He knew I wasn’t from Cuerna, but he thought I was a local! All of my high school kids also think I’m Mexican (even after repeatedly telling them that I am Americana), but this was different. A local thought I, the whitest girl in Cuernavaca, was Mexicana. That was a proud moment for me.
There are things that are the same in every city. For example, almost everyone speaks a little English in all major airports in the world, and there are always bumper-to-bumper traffic jams in all capital cities. Some things, though, are only in Mexico. Sunday’s, for example, belong to Mexico; and I don’t mean, “It’s Sunday…time to catch up on some work, do some chores, and prepare for another busy work week” American-style Sunday’s. Sunday’s in Mexico celebrate life. The Sunday I happened to be in Mexico for was Easter Sunday. Easter is not as in important to Catholics in Mexico as it to Catholics in the U.S. Even still, Semana Santa (Holy Week) is about the most important week of the year. All schools close for 2 weeks, and traveling within Mexico during Semana Santa is like traveling in the U.S. on Christmas Eve. All of my “familia” was in town form different parts of Mexico, and I was lucky enough to spend the weekend with “primos, sobrinos, y tíos.” My host mom’s daughter Liliana (Lili) has two kids—Ernie and Samanta. The last time I was in Mexico, Ernie was 4 and Samanta was 5 months. They are now 8 and 3 and cuter than ever. Samanta spent the weekend with us, and from the moment I walked in the door on Friday night to the time Sami went back to her house on Sunday, we were playing games, drawing, and watching cartoons. Ernie is learning English and likes to practice the few words he knows. I spent Saturday night with Samanta, Ernie, and Valeria (Sami and Ernie’s 14 year-old cousin). We played Jenga, tag, football, and Scatagories. My mamá made a wonderful comida—pozole, taquitos de pollo, enchiladas, and jugo de Jamaica. A typical, yet perfect Mexico meal.
On Easter Sunday, I went to Tepozlan—a small town just outside of Cuernavaca. The town is beautiful. Very small, but there is something…magical about this town. I arrived around noon after a 45 minute bus ride and went to mass. This was no ordinary Easter Sunday mass—there were Mexican’s and tourists alike at the cathedral and the area around the church was brightly decorated with flowers and papel picado. The bells were ringing to signal the start of the Spanish mass, and throughout the mass, mariachis were playing. After mass, I walked for about a mile before reaching the foot of the mountain that I would spend the next 2 hours climbing. I climbed to the top with two Mexicana’s I met on the way. At the top lies an archeological sight overlooking the entire pueblo. I hiked down with a group of 2 older couples from Argentina. Walking back through the markets this time, I went shopping! Tepoz has fantastic hand-painted ceramics, jewelry, and toys for children. I also ate quesadillas (Tepoz is known for their quesadillas) at a wonderful restaurant. After watching a reenaction of an ancient Indian dance, I headed back to Cuerna. I stopped by the Palacio de Cortez (free on Sunday’s) and watched the “elderly” dance in the Zócalo as they do every evening to show young people what it is to be in love.
The following Wednesday came all too quickly. I had spent my few days in Mexico talking for hours with my host mom, playing with Ernie and Samanta, exploring the “real” Mexico, and enjoying every minute of it. I woke up early Wednesday morning and headed for Mexico City. I was lucky enough to be able to spend a few hours with Paul and Matt before boarding my plane back to the U.S. We walked around Mexico City for a while, had lunch at a French café, and listened to the radio DJs announce Obama’s arrival in Mexico City that day at 2:00pm. As I looked out the window of the plane, I could see Air Force One. Much to my dismay, it was time to go back to reality after a very surreal 6-day encounter.
Since Mexico, I experienced the loss of a cousin, watched my dad undergo a long and painful hip-surgery, and finished my first semester of “real” teaching. I don’t care to go into the details of the shocking and devastating death of my cousin Jamie, but I would like to share one incredible moment of faith that occurred not too long after Jamie’s passing. My family and I went to Carmel to spend some very much necessary quality time with my Aunt Diane, Uncle Keith, Larisa and Carlos. As per our tradition, we walked down to the beach for sunset with a bottle of wine and some appetizers. As we toasted in honor of Jamie, we looked up in the sky to see that the clouds had formed the shape of a “J.” With tears in our eyes, we knew that Jamie was looking down on all of us.
My dad’s hip surgery lasted seven and a half hours, and those seven hours were some of the most frightening of my life. I’m not sure what I thought might happen, but I extremely happy that he made it through and that I was able to be there for a few hours everyday after the surgery with my parents.
And finally, on the teaching end of my life, things have gone surprisingly well last few months of school. I have now learned to call parents and use (most of) them to my advantage. I have also learned that despite the few very frustrating and challenging students I have, the majority of my students are great kids and will do great things in the future. I love watching my students understand something for the first time, or listening to them tell me how they spoke Spanish to someone over the weekend. At the end of the day, I generally feel satisfied with my students’ performance and am eager to come back the next day.
Before I leave you all, I should explain the title of my blog. “Attraversiamo” is a word meaning “Let’s cross over” in Italian. I learned the word in the book Eat, Pray, Love, and it can be used for “crossing the street” or in a more metaphorical sense. For some reason, I love this word. It is beautiful and truthful, and can be applied to all aspects of life. Make of it what you may, but I found it to be a rather appropriate and applicable description of my life in these last few months.
Thank you for your patience!
Love,
The most unreliable blogger…ever:)
First, I should start by saying that I am three days away from being done with my first year of “teaching.” I am not sure I can rightly call what I have been doing all year (and especially this semester) teaching, but I’m not sure what else to call my many challenging but altogether extraordinary experiences at Stanley Middle School and Mt. Diablo High School.
So what has happened in my life in the past three months? More than I will ever be able to explain here. As you all can see, I am not so great at keeping people updated on my life. I have been good at keeping myself updated, though. In my three month absence from blogging, I have been writing (to myself?) about my wonderful, devastating, and simultaneously seemingly life-changing recent life events.
Here are some things I wrote after my 6-day visit to Mexico in April!
Hola y lo siento que no he escrito en tanto tiempo… ¡acabo de regresar de México! I’ve been back in the States for a little more than 24 hours now and I am already back in my “Oh my gosh, how will I ever get everything done?!” routine. To be honest though, I don’t feel much like being productive. Being in Mexico is like being in paradise—you never want to leave, no matter how much you know you have to. I left for Mexico at 6:00am on Good Friday and before I knew it I was in the Mexico City airport where I seemed to be having one of those out of body experiences. As I walked around the airport, I could read every sign, understand everyone, and say almost anything I wanted to in a language I cannot call my own. It was like God had sprinkled some fairy dust on me and I could suddenly speak in Spanish without hesitation or restriction. I mean, I always tell people, “Oh yes, I’m fluent in Spanish,” but I don’t think I ever really believed myself until last week. I got on the Pullman de Morelos bus and headed for Cuernavaca. When we finally arrived, I could hardly contain my excitement.
It was then that I got in the first of many taxis I would take before my trip’s end. The taxi drivers in Mexico (most of them anyway) always give you an experience to remember. This particular taxi driver happened to be on the phone (there really are no driving laws in Mexico). He was not talking, but rather yelling at the person on the other line (his boss), exclaiming, “¡Oye! ¡No es justo! No debe de llevar los tenis al trabajo. Yo no los llevo, entonces él no debe llevarlos tampoco. ¡No es profesional!” (“Hey! It’s not fair! He shouldn’t wear tennis shoes to work. I don’t wear them, so he shouldn’t either. It’s not professional!”) This argument continued on for about five more minutes and included some profanity I am now accustomed to hearing from my high school students. I almost couldn’t believe what I was hearing because my taxi driver was wearing a neon-colored Hawaiian shirt, jean shorts, black socks, and fancy dress loafers. His choice of clothing was, in my opinion, worse than wearing tennis shoes with khakis and a nice polo shirt. When he finally got off the phone, he spent the rest of the taxi ride complaining to me about his colleague who wore tennis shoes to work that day.
In my short time in Mexico, I took 12 taxis and had one other extremely memorable taxi ride. It came on my third day in Cuernavaca. I walked to Superama (one of the only all-inclusive grocery stores in Mexico) to get some pandulce for breakfast. On my way out, I grabbed a taxi to go to the Zócalo for a typical Cuernavaca day. When I got in the taxi the driver asked me where in Mexico I lived. He knew I wasn’t from Cuerna, but he thought I was a local! All of my high school kids also think I’m Mexican (even after repeatedly telling them that I am Americana), but this was different. A local thought I, the whitest girl in Cuernavaca, was Mexicana. That was a proud moment for me.
There are things that are the same in every city. For example, almost everyone speaks a little English in all major airports in the world, and there are always bumper-to-bumper traffic jams in all capital cities. Some things, though, are only in Mexico. Sunday’s, for example, belong to Mexico; and I don’t mean, “It’s Sunday…time to catch up on some work, do some chores, and prepare for another busy work week” American-style Sunday’s. Sunday’s in Mexico celebrate life. The Sunday I happened to be in Mexico for was Easter Sunday. Easter is not as in important to Catholics in Mexico as it to Catholics in the U.S. Even still, Semana Santa (Holy Week) is about the most important week of the year. All schools close for 2 weeks, and traveling within Mexico during Semana Santa is like traveling in the U.S. on Christmas Eve. All of my “familia” was in town form different parts of Mexico, and I was lucky enough to spend the weekend with “primos, sobrinos, y tíos.” My host mom’s daughter Liliana (Lili) has two kids—Ernie and Samanta. The last time I was in Mexico, Ernie was 4 and Samanta was 5 months. They are now 8 and 3 and cuter than ever. Samanta spent the weekend with us, and from the moment I walked in the door on Friday night to the time Sami went back to her house on Sunday, we were playing games, drawing, and watching cartoons. Ernie is learning English and likes to practice the few words he knows. I spent Saturday night with Samanta, Ernie, and Valeria (Sami and Ernie’s 14 year-old cousin). We played Jenga, tag, football, and Scatagories. My mamá made a wonderful comida—pozole, taquitos de pollo, enchiladas, and jugo de Jamaica. A typical, yet perfect Mexico meal.
On Easter Sunday, I went to Tepozlan—a small town just outside of Cuernavaca. The town is beautiful. Very small, but there is something…magical about this town. I arrived around noon after a 45 minute bus ride and went to mass. This was no ordinary Easter Sunday mass—there were Mexican’s and tourists alike at the cathedral and the area around the church was brightly decorated with flowers and papel picado. The bells were ringing to signal the start of the Spanish mass, and throughout the mass, mariachis were playing. After mass, I walked for about a mile before reaching the foot of the mountain that I would spend the next 2 hours climbing. I climbed to the top with two Mexicana’s I met on the way. At the top lies an archeological sight overlooking the entire pueblo. I hiked down with a group of 2 older couples from Argentina. Walking back through the markets this time, I went shopping! Tepoz has fantastic hand-painted ceramics, jewelry, and toys for children. I also ate quesadillas (Tepoz is known for their quesadillas) at a wonderful restaurant. After watching a reenaction of an ancient Indian dance, I headed back to Cuerna. I stopped by the Palacio de Cortez (free on Sunday’s) and watched the “elderly” dance in the Zócalo as they do every evening to show young people what it is to be in love.
The following Wednesday came all too quickly. I had spent my few days in Mexico talking for hours with my host mom, playing with Ernie and Samanta, exploring the “real” Mexico, and enjoying every minute of it. I woke up early Wednesday morning and headed for Mexico City. I was lucky enough to be able to spend a few hours with Paul and Matt before boarding my plane back to the U.S. We walked around Mexico City for a while, had lunch at a French café, and listened to the radio DJs announce Obama’s arrival in Mexico City that day at 2:00pm. As I looked out the window of the plane, I could see Air Force One. Much to my dismay, it was time to go back to reality after a very surreal 6-day encounter.
Since Mexico, I experienced the loss of a cousin, watched my dad undergo a long and painful hip-surgery, and finished my first semester of “real” teaching. I don’t care to go into the details of the shocking and devastating death of my cousin Jamie, but I would like to share one incredible moment of faith that occurred not too long after Jamie’s passing. My family and I went to Carmel to spend some very much necessary quality time with my Aunt Diane, Uncle Keith, Larisa and Carlos. As per our tradition, we walked down to the beach for sunset with a bottle of wine and some appetizers. As we toasted in honor of Jamie, we looked up in the sky to see that the clouds had formed the shape of a “J.” With tears in our eyes, we knew that Jamie was looking down on all of us.
My dad’s hip surgery lasted seven and a half hours, and those seven hours were some of the most frightening of my life. I’m not sure what I thought might happen, but I extremely happy that he made it through and that I was able to be there for a few hours everyday after the surgery with my parents.
And finally, on the teaching end of my life, things have gone surprisingly well last few months of school. I have now learned to call parents and use (most of) them to my advantage. I have also learned that despite the few very frustrating and challenging students I have, the majority of my students are great kids and will do great things in the future. I love watching my students understand something for the first time, or listening to them tell me how they spoke Spanish to someone over the weekend. At the end of the day, I generally feel satisfied with my students’ performance and am eager to come back the next day.
Before I leave you all, I should explain the title of my blog. “Attraversiamo” is a word meaning “Let’s cross over” in Italian. I learned the word in the book Eat, Pray, Love, and it can be used for “crossing the street” or in a more metaphorical sense. For some reason, I love this word. It is beautiful and truthful, and can be applied to all aspects of life. Make of it what you may, but I found it to be a rather appropriate and applicable description of my life in these last few months.
Thank you for your patience!
Love,
The most unreliable blogger…ever:)
3.07.2009
"Bailando, Bailando, Bailando"
It’s 8:00 on Friday night and I just arrived home after a long day at school. I am remembering a part in Eat, Pray, Love right now—the part where Elizabeth Gilbert is talking about how American’s don’t know how to relax: “Of course, we all inevitably work too hard, then we get burned out and have to spend the whole weekend in our pajamas, eating cereal straight out of the box and staring at the TV in a mild coma (which is the opposite of working, yes, but not exactly the same thing as pleasure.) Americans don’t really know how to do nothing.” For full-time teachers (and now, because of recent budget cuts, full-time teachers are now nurses, advisors, and counselors), “doing nothing” isn’t an option. So, I spend my weekends exactly as Gilbert describes—pretending to do nothing just because I am working with Something’s Gotta Give on in the background.
Teaching full-time, I miss out on a lot, so I try to schedule in a few weekends, including the last two, doing something I love—something unrelated to school or work. My last two weekends were filled with swim meets and conferences. Now, you may be thinking that I should be spending my weekends catching up on “real” work, but I need weekends like my last two—weekends when I get to do things like watch Sar swim or spend time learning at a conference rather than teaching. The conference, by the way, was unbelievable! I thought I would be completely out of my comfort zone—I didn’t know my department very well and I was the least-experienced teacher there. A few hours into the conference, though, I found myself offering and taking in ideas in the many breakout workshops. Most of the workshops were conducted in Spanish and I also went to one workshop in Italian. The atmosphere was so…me—people from around the nation and the world speaking Spanish, French, Italian, Chinese, Japanese, German in all parts of the hotel. I loved every minute of it. However, by the time Sunday rolled around, I was ready to spend some time with Sar and family at the meet:).
On that note, I am excited to finally have a weekend all to myself to grade, lesson plan, do homework, work on my resume, and catch up on sleep. I have gotten into a bad habit (or have been forced into this habit due to the fact that there are not enough hours in a day?) of not getting enough sleep. I spend my evenings after teaching on Monday nights and classes on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday nights lesson-planning. I always promise myself that I will go to sleep after I do “one more thing,” but one thing turns into five and before I know it, it’s midnight. And yet, I still never feel completely prepared for teaching when I wake up in the morning. This, I assume, comes with experience. Drinking coffee is no longer a casual treat—it is now a necessity.
Teaching is becoming more routine by the day. I am learning to deal with the daily challenges that come with teaching at Mt.. My 4th and 6th period classes are barely manageable, but I am excited to report that I had what I hope to be a huge breakthrough with my 5th period class this week. We started our first song in my Spanish 1 classes this week to help learn the new chapter’s vocabulary. The song “Bailando” is a one-hit-wonder from the 80’s by Lynda and my 5th period LOVES the song! My 5th period class is not particularly motivated to learn Spanish—most of my students in this period do just enough work to pass the class, but somehow, the song is different. They love the song so much that one of my students asked me if we could make a music video. Brilliant. I wish I could take the credit for this idea, but I can’t. We are now in the process of memorizing the song and mapping out the music video that I hope to film in a few weeks.
For now, that is all. Once again, I apologize for the long entry!
Teaching full-time, I miss out on a lot, so I try to schedule in a few weekends, including the last two, doing something I love—something unrelated to school or work. My last two weekends were filled with swim meets and conferences. Now, you may be thinking that I should be spending my weekends catching up on “real” work, but I need weekends like my last two—weekends when I get to do things like watch Sar swim or spend time learning at a conference rather than teaching. The conference, by the way, was unbelievable! I thought I would be completely out of my comfort zone—I didn’t know my department very well and I was the least-experienced teacher there. A few hours into the conference, though, I found myself offering and taking in ideas in the many breakout workshops. Most of the workshops were conducted in Spanish and I also went to one workshop in Italian. The atmosphere was so…me—people from around the nation and the world speaking Spanish, French, Italian, Chinese, Japanese, German in all parts of the hotel. I loved every minute of it. However, by the time Sunday rolled around, I was ready to spend some time with Sar and family at the meet:).
On that note, I am excited to finally have a weekend all to myself to grade, lesson plan, do homework, work on my resume, and catch up on sleep. I have gotten into a bad habit (or have been forced into this habit due to the fact that there are not enough hours in a day?) of not getting enough sleep. I spend my evenings after teaching on Monday nights and classes on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday nights lesson-planning. I always promise myself that I will go to sleep after I do “one more thing,” but one thing turns into five and before I know it, it’s midnight. And yet, I still never feel completely prepared for teaching when I wake up in the morning. This, I assume, comes with experience. Drinking coffee is no longer a casual treat—it is now a necessity.
Teaching is becoming more routine by the day. I am learning to deal with the daily challenges that come with teaching at Mt.. My 4th and 6th period classes are barely manageable, but I am excited to report that I had what I hope to be a huge breakthrough with my 5th period class this week. We started our first song in my Spanish 1 classes this week to help learn the new chapter’s vocabulary. The song “Bailando” is a one-hit-wonder from the 80’s by Lynda and my 5th period LOVES the song! My 5th period class is not particularly motivated to learn Spanish—most of my students in this period do just enough work to pass the class, but somehow, the song is different. They love the song so much that one of my students asked me if we could make a music video. Brilliant. I wish I could take the credit for this idea, but I can’t. We are now in the process of memorizing the song and mapping out the music video that I hope to film in a few weeks.
For now, that is all. Once again, I apologize for the long entry!
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About Me
- Kel
- I am 28 years old and learning to live my life with the daily struggles of mental illness. My illnesses are a significant part of my life, but they are not all that I am. I am a teacher, daughter, sister, aunt, and friend, too. I'm starting this blog to chronicle my passions, goals, challenges and victories. I want to remind myself that I have come through many seemingly impossible situations, and I will continue to fights for the experiences like the ones I write about in this blog.