Since Gui and I travel at least once a year to the States, we try to track the movements of the Euro against the US Dollar so we can capitalize on the best exchange rates for our trips.  We've usually been pretty good about exchanging our currencies at really favorable rates, which lets us spend a bit more when we're visiting and going out in The Land of Plenty.  Back in November, we talked about exchanging our fancy European money while it was towering over the dollar at about $1.50.  But my overly-confident optimism kept our Euros in the bank and our American bank account stagnant.  Since then, it's all been literally downhill for the Euro, and we'll likely be forced to deal with a relatively even, Dollar-for-Euro exchange rate while we're visiting next month.  Which sucks.

While I'm clearly no expert on the subject, it wouldn't surprise me to see the Euro pan out flat against the Dollar in the coming months.  With all the uncertainties surrounding the Greek and Spanish economies (and the French one, for that matter), the Euro seems to be holding less and less water these days.  Luckily for Gui and I, we don't have a problem subsisting on 79¢ tacos and $1 Lone Star.  America The Great, indeed!

Today sucked for no good reason.  It was rainy.  It was cold.  It was Monday.  And everyone seemed to be wearing their grumpy pants.  Karen Carpenter is familiar with this rainy Monday phenomenon, it seems, and somehow, hearing her sing it kind of makes me feel a little bit better.

So, here's to sunny Tuesday...

I can't stop thinking about the passengers on flight 447, about their families, their friends and loved ones who are trying to make sense of it all.

It just makes me feel so unbelievably sad.

And lucky, and slightly apprehensive.

Is it crazy that I'm still holding out hope that they might all be floating around the Atlantic on life boats waiting to be rescued? Crazy or not, I'm hoping and praying.

We don't celebrate saint days in the States - well, not on any grand scale that I'm aware of, anyway. But, in France, each day commemorates a saint, and if your name happens to be that of a saint, you can expect someone to wish you a happy saint's day. Today was Saint-Guillaume Day - or Saint William of Bourges Day, so Gui received a barrage of text messages and voicemails wishing him a bonne fête, which pretty much just wishes him a happy holiday. I find the whole French approach to religion strikingly oxymoronic, but I like the idea of having a commemorative "feastday" (as they describe on the catholic.org website) simply because you share the name of a saint. Who doesn't love feast days?

There isn't much to say about Saint Guillaume de Bourges except that he was a man who did lots of good things in his short life, like take care of the poor and less fortunate than him. However, I did note a couple of things of interest about him (well, to me, anyway). He performed 18 miracles in his life and 18 after. Not only is that just seriously impressive, but it is a pretty well-known fact that 18 is my lucky number. He was the canon (priest) of Paris at some point, but eventually decided to abandon the big city lifestyle for a more simple life in the north of France. I also find it pretty neato that he was canonized on May 17th, which just happens to be my birthday. Knowing all of this, I'd like to say that Saint Guillaume and I would be pretty solid pals if he were living now or had I been living back in the late 12th century. I'm quite content, still, with knowing that I'll be reminded of his goodness and grace every year that we celebrate his accomplishments via his modern-day namesake.

Doing my usual morning routine, which includes opening the window to check the temperature (I've actually been opening doors and windows before deciding what to wear since I was a kid - it's like that when you grow up with 32° mornings and 80° afternoons), I spotted this magnificent, unusually-colored tree hidden in the back of a brick building. I realize it's just a silly tree with leaves changing color in the middle of Autumn, but it almost made me want to write a poem or paint foliage on a canvas, or something. Central Texans don't get an autumn. When our leaves decide to finally turn colors it's halfway through December, and they're usually turning some dirty, dreadful brown color. What I love about this tree is that it's just hanging out behind an old building turning colors while every other tree is still content to stay green. It's the little odd-man out and I tend to like little, odd things, I suppose (not that that's in any way personified symbolism, although I have been called odd once or twice in my life, among other things).

I hope I don't get in trouble for posting this, but it's too funny not to share. I've seen some people moving in and out of our apartment building over the past few weeks now, but being that I've never actually met all of our neighbors, they could very well be old residents doing a little Fall cleaning. Still, I can tell that there are a few newbies from the handmade changes seen on the mailboxes. At our fête de voisins this summer, the caretaker of our building took down everyone's names and (among other things) promised to have new plaques made to replace the aged and ugly plastic covers that identify our mailboxes. Months later, nothing's changed - no new mailbox covers, no new resident information for deliveries, no new name indicators for our doors, no new nothin'. So now that new people are moving into our building, I've noticed more handwritten mailbox covers. Casually, glancing over the boxes to check out the names of our new neighbors, I stopped at this one and laughed (loudly) to myself - just before I grabbed my camera.


Yes, I realize this is a joke that a 12 year-old would make and laugh at, but I think the funniest part of it is remembering the Grey Poupon commercials I saw as a kid and how I would make the same fake British accent in an attempt to get my little brothers to laugh. It's amusing to think how clueless I was back then about how my life would unfold for me, and it's even a little funny to think that I'm here, living in France, with a French husband, having Monsieur Poupon as my neighbor in a life I never imagined I would have. Merci, Mr. Poupon, for the nostalgic joke and for putting it all into perspective for me.

I've never done a meme, but this was one that I couldn't pass up. I love all things food - well all things I consider food - and I wanted to see how I ranked as a "true-blue" omnivore. This originates from a British blogger (and expert gourmand, it seems) by the name of Andrew whose blog, Very Good Taste, I stumbled upon recently.

So, here's how it works:

1) Copy this list into your blog or journal, including these instructions.
2) Bold all the items you’ve eaten.
3) Cross out any items that you would never consider eating.
4) Optional extra: Post a comment here at www.verygoodtaste.co.uk linking to your results.

1. Venison
2. Nettle tea
3. Huevos rancheros
4. Steak tartare
5. Crocodile
6. Black pudding
7. Cheese fondue
8. Carp
9. Borscht
10. Baba ghanoush
11. Calamari
12. Pho
13. PB&J sandwich
14. Aloo gobi
15. Hot dog from a street cart
16. Epoisses
17. Black truffle
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes
19. Steamed pork buns
20. Pistachio ice cream
21. Heirloom tomatoes
22. Fresh wild berries
23. Foie gras
24. Rice and beans
25. Brawn, or head cheese
26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper
27. Dulce de leche
28. Oysters
29. Baklava
30. Bagna cauda
31. Wasabi peas
32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl
33. Salted lassi
34. Sauerkraut
35. Root beer float
36. Cognac with a fat cigar
37. Clotted cream tea
38. Vodka jelly/Jell-O
39. Gumbo
40. Oxtail
41. Curried goat
42. Whole insects
43. Phaal
44. Goat’s milk
45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more
46. Fugu
47. Chicken tikka masala
48. Eel
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut
50. Sea urchin
51. Prickly pear
52. Umeboshi
53. Abalone
54. Paneer
55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal
56. Spaetzle
57. Dirty gin martini
58. Beer above 8% ABV
59. Poutine
60. Carob chips
61. S’mores
62. Sweetbreads
63. Kaolin
64. Currywurst
65. Durian
66. Frogs’ legs
67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake
68. Haggis
69. Fried plantain
70. Chitterlings, or andouillette
71. Gazpacho
72. Caviar and blini
73. Louche absinthe
74. Gjetost, or brunost
75. Roadkill
76. Baijiu
77. Hostess Fruit Pie
78. Snail
79. Lapsang souchong
80. Bellini
81. Tom yum
82. Eggs Benedict
83. Pocky
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant.
85. Kobe beef
86. Hare
87. Goulash
88. Flowers
89. Horse
90. Criollo chocolate
91. Spam
92. Soft shell crab
93. Rose harissa
94. Catfish
95. Mole poblano
96. Bagel and lox
97. Lobster Thermidor
98. Polenta
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee
100. Snake

(Total: 56)
Updated: I originally had 55, but didn't immediately realize mole poblano was just regular ol' mole.

I was surprised at how much I have already eaten. At least ten of the items I've eaten only as a result of traveling, so it looks like I have no other choice but to continue traveling around to complete this list. Also, I'm a little surprised at how much I crossed out on the list. I might be able to be convinced to try a few of those crossed-off items (like frog legs and sweetbreads) - I guess it would just depend on how many of those dirty gin martinis and bellinis I had before being asked.

This is why skinny jeans and boots are so popular in Paris. Even an umbrella can't save the bottoms of my wide-legged jeans from the incessant puddles in the uneven streets of this city on a drizzly day. I guess I need to invest in a new pair (or two) of skinny jeans. Thank you, Paris for yet another excuse to go shopping in your tantalizing, eye-popping, over-abundant magasins.

I'm simply overjoyed at the news that a friend from home is going to be moving to the Paris area in less than three weeks! We had just started getting to know each other before I made my way over at the end of last year and again in June when Gui and I visited, but we've kept in touch through blogs and emails as she's continued working towards getting her visa to be an au pair in Paris. She got news a couple of days ago that she'll be arriving on September 7th, which is just insanely soon! Unlike the first time I packed my bags and headed to France, this will be her first time travelling outside of the US - ever!

Walking to the marché this morning, I started thinking of how I felt the first time I traveled across the world and what thoughts and emotions were running through my mind. My first trip outside of the States was to Trinidad and Tobago (yeah, that was awesome), and then I took a trip to England before making the big move to Nottingham for a few months. I was young, so carefree, so wide-eyed. My summer in Rome was the first time I'd been in a non-English-speaking country, and being in a school setting, having friends and knowing people in the same situation as myself was, I think, what made communication so easy and kept me distracted from my nerves or self-inflicting complexes about speaking another language.

Having lived in and around Paris for a total of about seven months, I can say that many of my initial ideas about this city have changed, but not all for the worse. Reading blog, after blog, after blog of people who've been here and done everything I've done has undoubtedly made the transition so much easier. I thank the blog gods for giving people a place to rant and rave about their woes and joys so that we might all learn from them and feel just a little more normal when our lives begin to unfold like a comic book.

So, in an effort to offer my Paris-bound friend some advice about what to bring, what to leave behind and what to expect, here are a few odd things that cross my mind about my move here.

• I desperately wish I would have bought more shave gel on our last trip to TX. I seriously can't bring myself to pay 5 euros for a can of Gillette shave gel when I know I can get the same for less than half the price on the other side of the world. Some things are just too hard to let go of.
• I'm cursing myself for thinking that I'd somehow expect my mom to go through the bags and boxes of clothes that I've left behind in order to pick out what I might need for the winter time so that she could send it to me. I should have been more organized and made more of an effort to gather and label my things for easy reference and shipment to France instead of pawning it all off on my poor mom. Now, I'm left with a very boring and monochromatic wardrobe that's getting old really quickly and will no way last me through the crazy winter we're bound to have. (I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I find a job so I can do some guilt-free shopping at the winter soldes.)
• Flats are my best friends here. I wish I had the insight to buy more flats before coming (even those cheapy Target ones) because one really can't have enough with these crazy cobblestone sidewalks popping up all over the place. If I could, I'd buy a new pair everyday, but we all know that's not possible!
  
• And, by flats, I don't mean tennis shoes. I brought four pairs of "trainers" or "tennis shoes" with me here, - and I don't mean the New Balance track & field kind, but the cute brown and gold Coach tennis, sporty Pumas, and stylish Diesels - and I've found nothing says not à la mode more than a girl in sport shoes. So, my tennis shoes only come out when I'm moving stuff or actually running (uh, that's pretty much never). Comfy flats are where it's at!
• Resisting the urge to pass a friendly smile to strangers hasn't been as difficult as I imagined, but the guilt I feel after flashing a blank face out of habit to someone trying to be friendly is mortifying. For me, it's harder to revert back to being smiley after I've already conformed to my newfound survival tactics.
  
• All the friendly peeps in Paris make up for those unfriendly ones. I've learned to take the bad with the good here - it's usually not always one or the other. One friendly smile, or short conversation about the weather from a complete stranger (especially an older one) is enough to keep my spirits up for the rest of the day.
  
• I don't mind walking around the city or through the marchés and shopping centers, but I really hate walking to my metro station. It's only a 6-8 minute walk from our apartment, but it's the walk I despise the most. I don't know why. I'm thinking it's a subconscious reflection that comes from my years of car-dependency, and walking any further than the garage makes the part of my brain that deals with laziness start going crazy with fury. Hmmm.
  
• As much as I gorged on Tex-Mex on our last trip, I wish I would have eaten more.
  

Maybe it doesn't take a lot to make me happy, but for the past few days I've been finding myself quite content with a lot of things. We had dinner with Gui's dad the evening we got into town from La Rochelle. We were pretty pooped from the long drive and eventful weekend, but his dad insisted that we stop by for a quick dinner. We knew he had something up his sleeve, and shortly after we arrived, he handed us a box in a bag that contained these gorgeous knives.




He even had them engraved with our names on the blade, so we wouldn't have to share. Thank goodness, because you wouldn't believe how much dirtier Gui's knife is after eating than mine! They're absolutely beautiful and so sophisticated. We won't be eating with them daily - you're not supposed to wash the handle and they're just too fancy for the regular ol' meals we have around here. But, we'll be bringing them out for special occasions, for sure.

The Sunday chili I made had me all in smiles, too. We ended up eating it all throughout the day, polishing it off with a crisp cider while watching the Olympic games. I love chili, and this time I made it extra spicy which was so comforting on a gloomy Sunday.


I also finally whipped up some coleslaw, which I've been craving for weeks now. I couldn't believe how easy it was, nor how great it tasted!! Gui fell in love with coleslaw while living a summer in Texas and even he raved about it. I was happy to indulge, but much happier that I found another go-to recipe (I nixed the vegetable oil and added a little milk) to add to my personal repertoire.


I both smiled and grunted when I got this in the mailbox.

98% of our apartment is Ikea furniture, and our kitchen would be completely dysfunctional without the genius that is behind Ikea. We can never leave the store without a full basket of goodies for the house. Still, it makes me cringe that I didn't come up with the whole "build your own furniture" idea first.

My happy streak continued at the grocery store today, first when I spotted these:


And, then when I spotted this:

I've seen these corn tortillas before somewhere, but they must have been outrageously priced for me to have passed them up. Not this time! Now, enchiladas are on the menu for this week, so stay tuned!

And that strange cylindrical box is sodium bicarbonate, otherwise known as baking soda, which has been pretty hard to come by around these parts. I randomly walked by the salt section and saw this bright yellow thing reflected by the fluorescent lights and realized it was the golden ticket to the oatmeal cookies I've been wanting to try my hand at. I really hope it's the right stuff because I can't really understand any of the writing, which is in half Dutch, half French. If it is, it'll be more cause to keep smiling.

I snapped this picture of Gui last weekend at a friend's house. His face is not suitable for glasses, but these gave him an adorable nerdy look that makes me smile.

While Gui's cousins are on vacation for a few weeks, we're keeping their cute cat, Mephisto at our place. He's really a lovely cat, but I think he's finding it a little hard to adjust to his new, temporary home. Unfortunately for him, Gui and I live on the sixth floor (5eme en français), and since we don't have a balcony or a proper sitting area outside (like he does at home), he doesn't get to hang out much in the outside world. I feel really bad for him. Every time he goes to an open window, we have to scare him away for fear he might attempt an accidental suicide. And, it's far too hot these days to keep the windows closed during the day.

I don't generally have good luck with pet-sitting cats, having had one die under my watch (the cat had complications from a previous ailment that I didn't know still persisted...it was a devastating experience for me), and my temperament around kids and animals tends to be hyper-sensitive to any possible dangerous scenarios - I let my fears become theirs, so, taking care of a homesick cat is seriously stressful for me.

During the first few nights, he'd sometimes start meowing sadly and loudly which would keep me up for a while trying to figure out what to do to make him better. Gui could see my frustration and suggested a change of scenery. At 5AM the best we could do was show him the stairwell, which actually suited him just fine. The meowing stopped and he's been in slightly better spirits since.

Now, we're taking him out to the stairwell for some regular change of scenery. I've also made a few adjustments to our furniture arrangements and added a mosquito screen to the window rails to prevent any accidental base-jumping, but I'm still paranoid as ever over his whereabouts during the day and his safety while we're away. Too bad it's so impossible to comfortably have a dog in Paris because now more than ever I'm sure we won't be having a cat.

After once again screwing up a perfectly perfect recipe because of my conversion miscalculations, I decided I'd have to hit some Stateside people up for a set of standard American measuring tools. But, then I started thinking that it might be kind of presumptuous to ask my friends or family to just up and ship some American-esque things off to me (which isn't a cheap, simple or time-efficient request) without some kind of incentive.

So, I came up with an idea. I'll do a swap! I don't know if they already have that kind of thing available on the internet - I know they have swap-sites and clubs, but I'm not sure if they involve only sending things that the person on the receiving end doesn't know about. I propose to put out a list of things I'd like to have, and then return the favor for something you might like to have from Paris. It's not really a novel idea or anything, but I think it's a good way for me to feel like I'm returning a favor for someone who's willing to go out of their way to help me out a bit. Also, I'm not asking the whole world to send me something - just maybe my peeps from back home. (You know who you are!) I'm hoping this might keep my mom from going crazy with all my requests for books, foodstuffs and random things from home. (Sorry, mum.)

As for that baking disaster - it's still in the oven, so I'll update (with pictures) after it's done. We're having my mother-in-law (that word is still weird for me to say) over for dinner tonight, so if the dessert is ruined, I'm running of to the boulangerie at the corner!

Don't follow people who cross on a red man.

I literally typed this into my phone on my way to the metro after nearly becoming windshield splatter on someone's car yesterday morning. There's a blind-spot on one of the crosswalks that I pass on my way across the peripherique to the metro station. Since the person on the other end of the crosswalk has a full view of the oncoming traffic, I (as well as the rest of the confident travelers on my side of the crosswalk) generally tend to think that once they've realized no cars are coming and start walking across the pavement, it's safe for our side to forge ahead (even when the little crosswalk man is red). This has been failsafe until yesterday morning, when someone didn't get the memo and decided it'd be ok to walk into oncoming traffic whilst totally disregarding the Peugeot and Volkswagen that were racing to make the green light. Oh, merde! I and two other half-asleep Parisians, needless to say, picked up the pace after realizing we were in the path of a few honk-happy commuters who were probably still half asleep and likely willing to rid the city of a few pedestrians if they could make it through the stale vert light.

That's not the only note I'm writing to myself these days. Note number two: Steps are deadly, try to avoid walking on them in public at all costs.

Yesterday, while walking up the measly four steps to my school building, instead of putting one foot on one step and the other foot on the next step, I decided to forget a step altogether and fell nearly flat on my face just in front of two students (or maybe teachers), spilling my piping hot espresso all over the marble floor and my pants. Not knowing what language I spoke, one of them asked if I was ok in about three different languages and then proceeded to ask me in French if I needed to go to the hospital. I didn't really know how to react - I just said, no...shrugged...gave an awkward smile and brushed myself off. I'm still cringing from that.

Still, not comprehending this very new invention called stairs, I found myself once again conversing with the marble, but this time in front of everyone and their mom at one of Paris' busiest places - Les Halles. I was carelessly strolling through the square, on my way to the magasin when out of nowhere two downward steps appear and send me flying onto my arse in between two innocent folks trying to have a chill moment. "Whoops!!" This time around there was more laughter, a hearty attention, madame! from one of those folks, and a brisk, ça va! from me.

I'm so not looking forward to tomorrow, it's supposed to rain and who knows how my balance will fare on slick Parisian steps. Maybe I should look into taking walking or stair-climbing lessons after my French class.

I've been learning a lot more than just the French language in my daily French classes. This week, a few new nationalities were added to the mix of students, including two peeps from Turkey, one from China, one from Korea and two from Japan. So, today we got to talking about where one could access the internet should one need to while staying in Paris. Let's see, there are cybercafes (pronounced see-bare cah-fay), internet cafes, taxi-phones and several bars around the city that provide internet access for a fee. I also suggested the public parks in town that provide WiFi for free, which was followed by a raised eyebrow and accompanying frown from my French teacher who said she'd be scared to have her laptop stolen if she used it at the park. Then, I thought to myself, "oooh, so that's why people have been looking at me funny - they think I'm the local snob showing off my electronic goods instead of keeping them safely stored at home who might get what's coming to me if I keep parading my laptop around in public." Good to know.

So, then the topic of discussion turned to French libraries. It's a sad truth that I've never stepped foot in a library in France. Not that I don't have any desire to, but it never seemed to serve much purpose for me as a non-French-speaking/reading resident. I imagine I'll make my way to a library once I've mastered the French language (or get more curious), but can't be sure that will be anytime soon. But, back to phobias. So, our teacher starts to tell us all the great things we can do at the library - like check out books for free, listen to music, and even use the internet...maybe. That's when she tells us that many libraries in France no longer allow WiFi throughout the building because librarians were complaining of headaches. "From the sound of people typing," I curiously ask. No, from the waves emitted by the WiFi. To which I respond with an unsavory and inappropriate snicker. (It totally slipped out.) Needless to say my teacher wasn't laughing with me, and her face had a dead serious look on it when I finally looked up. "Mais, c'est vrais!" I didn't want to be rude, but I had to voice my opinion, so I just told her that maybe it was true, but it's just très français. I know I'm going to sound like a generalist here, but it's just to make clear my thoughts on why something like this is "very French." Since I've been living here (the entire time with a Frenchie), I've learned a lot about French folks - about their habits, their traditions, their prejudices and even about their phobias. What I find most interesting for sure are their phobias. Even Gui comes up with the strangest explanations for certain ailments or complications that usually invoke a similar snicker from me. So, here are a few of the common phobias I've come across:

Fans: Having a fan on - especially at night while you're sleeping - is very bad for your health and causes respiratory problems.

Air Conditioners: A/Cs promote too much change in your body's temperature during the summertime, which can cause you to get sick. Also, A/Cs push dust into the air and cause respiratory problems.

Ice: Ice is too cold for your stomach to digest properly, thus shouldn't be consumed often or in large quantities.

(*edit) S'mores: The black carbon (?) from roasted marshmallows, if eaten, causes cancer.

They all have some kind of valid reasoning behind them, but as a foreigner, I find them a bit strange (I guess just as foreigner to Texas might find it odd or revolting that we keep the A/C on even in winter and drink 44 ounces of liquid submerged in ice while driving). There's really no way for me to know if they're right or not, and that's not really the point anyway. I figure they've been feeling this way and doing what they do much longer than me, so maybe they're onto something. I don't know. Perhaps a lot of it, too, is just phobic hand-me-downs that have been around forever like ghost stories or fairy tales. If there is any truth behind their reasoning, though (especially for the WiFi waves), I'm afraid there are going to be a lot of heads aching in Mountain View, CA.

A friend of ours linked me to this YouTube video and now I'm addicted to it (and the other episodes). It's hilarious, and educational all at once. Thanks, Guillaume.

Last night was a rough one. I called my dad and got his voicemail, then called my mom to see what she was up to with my nephews who are spending a few weeks with their Grammy and Popo. I called about an hour into their naps and the oldest woke up in time to chat with me. He's growing up so quickly...he talks in the cutest voice my ears have ever heard and articulates the most innocently sweet things. I fought back a well of tears when he told me that after he goes to visit Austin, he's coming to visit me - next Friday. I told him I wasn't sure if he would be able to and explained how long a trip in the plane would be for him. "Well, what about in a car," he asked. After a short explanation for the Atlantic, I told him we could see each other on Friday, but through the computer. I probably just shattered his little anticipating heart - and mine too; I was a mess until about 1 am. I miss my family, and even though I'm crazy-happy here, it's so much tougher than I ever expected to be so far away from them.

I hate to admit it, but I'm captivated by this.