So she thought she could France...

After an overnight train from Narbonne, I arrived in Paris on the morning of Monday, May 20th, giant suitcase in hand(s) once more. People watched me with either pity or disdain in their eyes as I traipsed across town (well, from train to metro station to other metro station) during morning rush hour; one man even stopped, told me (in French) "I'd help you if I didn't have to go to work, but I do," and kept going. (Um, merci, I guess?)

I was very fortunate in that Emily, babe that she is, had asked her university friends Julie, Becky, and Louisa (who were doing their year abroad in Paris) if they could let me crash on their couch for a few nights, and they graciously agreed! I would have been thankful anyway, but I was especially thankful as I basically had no money at this point. Euros, dollars, yen, pesos, didn't matter. I was all-around out o' cash. So I was, and remain, very thankful to these three kind souls for their hospitality. Cheers, ladies! I will never forget this. You have a couch in Texas anytime.

Merci beaucoup, les filles de 142 rue Lafayette! ♥

I spent three days in Paris, and left on the fourth. It was gloomy the whole time I was there (maybe France was sad to see me go?), and the first two days it was actually pretty rainy. So, I spent my time taking care of some business (a little bit of final shopping, a little bit of shipping things home, and consolidating the contents of one giant luggage and several totes back to just the one giant luggage before I left). I also got to spend some time with that city I love. I had a gyro in the Quartier Latin, walked along the Seine, stopped at Shakespeare and Company to get a book since it was rainy (Hemingway's A Moveable Feast), strolled around on Île de la Cité, and then did a lot of sitting in cafés, reading, and taking every last opportunity to engage in French conversation.

Fortunately, one of my evenings was also filled with a bit of fun with friends! My friends Michelle (California), Nareh (California), and Mary (England), whom I had met on our bus journey to the Sahara (caaaaaasual), were all in Paris, and so we arranged to meet up!

Okay, story about these first three photos: I first met up with Mary at Bastille, and there were police and police cars everywhere. There was also some stage set up facing the roundabout. We joked that perhaps Beyoncé was about to give a show... to the roundabout. I don't know. It was weird. 

"Creer, c'est se souvenir"

("To create is to remember")
Victor Hugo

I should mention I like people watching.

I mean, look at this little boo! How cute is he? He looks like he's into doing hoodrat stuff with his friends.

Falafel is always a good choice. Especially at l'As du Fallafel.

Michelle, Nareh, moi, Mary

I really want this right now.

I can't remember where we went, but I remember we were the only ones downstairs in the cave.

Apparently.

It was so much fun to see all of these girls again! Yet another instance of meeting fantastic people abroad and then being lucky enough to get the chance to cross paths with them again. It's just nice and warm and fuzzy and fun. We did miss the rest of our #camelcrew (Em, Lottie, Louise, & Ayush), though!

The following day, Wednesday the 22nd of May, I spent walking the streets of my beloved Paris, soaking it in and reflecting on the year I'd had. It's always so nice to return to this beautiful city I love so much. It's even nicer that, since I've done all of the big touristy things, I don't feel like I'm missing anything if I spend time just strolling, drinking tea, reading, and people watching. Which was pretty much all I could afford at that point anyway, so it all worked out.

Galeries Lafayette, bien sûr

Place du Tertre, Montmartre (comme j'adore Montmartre)

I sat at this little café in Montmartre a couple streets off Place du Tertre for quite some time. I had a glass of wine, a nutella crêpe, and wrote my very last postcards of the year. I had a nice long conversation with some women sitting at a table near me. One was Scottish and one was Australian; they'd met many years before and became good friends and tried to take trips together every so often. Lovely! 

Anyway, to this day I remember sitting at that café, talking, and then writing, and thinking. I thought about my year. About who I was. About how I'd changed. About the fact that the following day, I'd be returning to Texas again after nearly nine months. I hoped I'd be employed again, and I wondered where it might be. I wondered what it would be like to see my friends, my family, and my sweet Nolie Mae again. I thought about how things would be so very different once I recommenced my American lifestyle. I thought about the people I'd met and the places I'd been and how so, so very grateful I was for all of the opportunities I'd been afforded that year. How lucky I was, and how surreal it all was. I thought for a long time, and many of those thoughts became the contents of my final post, which, by the way, I'll be posting next. (Yes, this is officially my penultimate SYTYCF post.)

Eventually, I got up, intent on doing a bit more wandering on my last day.

la Rue Foyatier (l'escalier de la butte)

Abbesses

a little Amorino by the Bassin Octagonal

some Tuileries and Louvre

le Musée d'Orsay (fave)

more Louvre

Pont des Arts & l'Institut de France

Paris, je t'aime.

[This is the moment I took my last Euroselfie for the year, which I'll give ya in a minute.]

Final photo of the year. I walked down these stairs to the metro, went home, and didn't leave again until the next morning when I left for good.

I remember Skyping my dad that evening from the girls' couch to talk with him about the arrangements for my arrival the following day, as well as about the job possibilities I was considering. I was so stressed about the interviews and which jobs would truly be open and whether or not anyone would hire me. I was worried about when I'd be able to get back to having a salary and benefits so that I could afford my own place again and earn money to pay off my debts. The real world was rushing back to me, fast; the time had come and it was now the eve of reality. I remember my dad, who is a very rational person (logos over pathos, for sure), saying to me "Katy. You are going to be just fine. You might not get any of these jobs we're talking about, and you will still be okay. You moved to France by yourself and handled yourself. You speak fluent French. You can travel the world by yourself. People will want to hire you. Not just as a teacher. You will be just fine." I remember feeling like I could breathe again when he said that. (Also, spoiler alert? I was and am just fine. It's a funny story how. I'll tell ya all about it sometime.)

The next morning, I set off early for Charles de Gaulle, giant suitcase in hand one last time. (Of course, I had to leave some random stuff like vitamins and socks in order to get it to close. But I did it. Back to one suitcase for my grand return!) I was all smiles and cheer, as I was honestly so excited to go home. The whole year I had never gotten homesick, as I had the mindset that I should value where I was when I was there, because I'd only have a certain many days to live in Europe. But still, in keeping with that same mindset, I woke up on May 23, 2013 excited to go home, and everyone who saw me could tell. 

Facebook status from the morning of May 23rd

I have a lovely story from the airport that morning. When I arrived at the check-in counter, the American Airlines employee was a kind French man, and I was happy to profite from one of my last opportunities to speak French. My luggage, weighing in at 69.5 lbs, was going to incur a $60 overweight fee, which I knew. (70 lbs is the absolute limit.) I had my credit card ready to go, when the following happens (all in French):

AA man: "You know, your French is wonderful. It's really beautiful. You don't have an American accent! How can that be? Are you really American?"

moi: "Wow, thank you so much! Well, I wasn't just visiting, I've lived in the south since September. I was an assistante de langue. But yes, I'm really American."

AA man: "Well, I guess that's why your luggage is so heavy. From all of your books that you used because you were studying French, right?"

moi: (clueless) "No, I wasn't studying... I was working. At a high school. I was teaching. I haven't studied in years."

AA man: "Well, I'm sure your bag is full of so many heavy books from studying our language, and you've done so well! Let me go ask my colleague if perhaps we can waive your luggage fee since your books are so heavy since you are such a good student and speak such beautiful French."

moi: (finally gets the hint)

And yes, he was able to waive the fee. Isn't that so sweet?! What a perfect final interaction to end my time in France. What a dear man. I do love how excited French people get when they hear an American who speaks French. I'm especially glad because you may remember that I was quite broke at this point in my life.

After an uneventful flight, I arrived home in Texas on a hot, sunny afternoon. I was expecting my family to be there, but instead, my best friends surprised me! (My parents had an event of my brother's to attend; he was graduating high school the following Sunday.)

with Amy... do you see that large Sonic Diet Dr Pepper, EZ ice?! 

with Shannon, Maddie, and Belle

with all of my girls! (and my giant suitcase)

These are the same best friends who had thrown me my bon voyage party in September. I wasn't expecting them to be there at the airport, but I was so glad they were! It was perfect. We headed out to meet my family for TexMex (of course), and all was right in the world. Or at least, all was back to my normal. I was exhausted, but I was home. (I also kept thinking, "HAS EVERYTHING ALWAYS BEEN SO BIG?!" Seriously. Everything is huge in the States/Texas. The cars. The roads. The buildings. The sky. The parking lots. HUGE.)

Facebook status from the evening of May 23rd

And that, mes amis, is the end of this particular story. Sometimes I still can't believe it all happened. I'm so grateful. I can't believe this was and is my life. I filled out all the paperwork, met all the people, survived all the strikes, sometimes scavenged for all the food, went all the places, spent all the money, ate all the pastries, and lived all of the adventures.

I thought I could France. And so I did.

Les souvenirs de Narbonne, Pt. 2: Oddities & Quirks

When most people picture life in France, they picture walking the streets of Paris with a baguette in hand and a constant view of the Eiffel Tower. Or, maybe, living along the Riviera, going to the beach all the time and bumping shoulders with the rich & famous. Or maybe they even picture life in a small, picturesque village in Provence.  Most people do not picture life in a small-ish town of 40,000 inhabitants (60,000 including the suburbs) 9 miles from the Mediterranean where the wind blows until you feel like your soul might WHOOSH right out your ears. The latter is exactly what I was was given as my French experience, and I made the best of it and truly loved my little French home. However, there are several things that were either very interesting or even downright annoying.

Other titles considered for this post were: "Things I just can't stand about Narbonne" (as a follow-up to "Things I just can't stand about France"), as well as "You've seen the Good, now see the Bad & the Ugly." However, both of these titles invoke only negativity, when I really want to convey not just that which bugged me, but also that our little town was just a little bit... weird.

We'll say it had character. Which it did. If you're thinking to yourself, "How could she be so cynical about her French home?", I'd like to direct you to my most recent post, "Les souvenirs de Narbonne, Pt. 1: Places", in which I sing Narbonne's praises.*

Also, I'd like to inform you that I'm a realist. So, if I'm to pay fair tribute to my year in southern France, I have to be 100% honest.

Here are the things which I got quite annoyed with in Narbonne:

Le vent: The wind. Oh my gosh, the wind. The wind is absolutely insane there. The locals can tell you which winds (by name) are active or approaching by the weather conditions: the temperature, the sun, the sky, the season, the direction of the wind. It's impressive. But more than just impressive, it's an indication of what an integral part of local life and culture these winds are. This short description of the 5 SEPARATE named winds of Languedoc, le pays du vent (the land of the wind) gives a good idea of how serious the winds are. Please ignore the Comic Sans. (Pourquoi?)

There were times when I would be walking at like a 65° degree angle if I was walking against the wind. Seriously. There were times when my heavy bag would be blown back and remain horizontal and away from my body if I was walking against the wind. Are you picturing a cartoon character walking in a storm? Good. It was exactly like that. There were times in the winter when I declined going out at night because I knew I'd have to walk there and back in the wind and the cold, and I just couldn't. There were times when, in my 5th floor (or 4th floor to a European) room, I could hear the wind howling all night and I couldn't fall asleep. It never let up. It just howled, like before a hurricane,** but not in gusts. Consistently and relentlessly.

They say wind can drive you mad, and I 100% understand that. There were times when I thought I'd go mad if it didn't stop, and I feel like I lived there for a long time, I might truly go slightly insane. It's just... so much. And I've lived in Lubbock, Texas. Lubbock winds are nothing compared to this. (Though I guess there is one positive to the Narbonne winds: no gritty dirt blowing in your mouth like in Lubbock. So, at least there's that.)

This photo was taken in Leucate, where we went for the Mondial du Vent (world championship of wind) in April.***

Please note that my hair managed to be THIS windblown while it was IN A PONYTAIL. Merci, le vent. Freaking superwind.

The complete lack of green spaces: Honestly, there were no real parks to speak of within the city of Narbonne. We noticed this after a while, and thought to ourselves "There HAS to be a park somewhere. There has to be. We need some nature up in here." So we got out a map of Narbonne. There was a little green circle (roundabout, right by the kebab, we already knew about that), and we also saw a nice big green space near us! Of course, we went to check it out straight away.

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 It was a cemetery. 

So, you know. It would have been really nice to be able to go somewhere green to sit and relax. Which, by the way, is something it's generally pretty easy to find in France, as the French on the whole appreciate nature. But it was not easy to find in Narbonne. Also, at that point in my life, I wasn't running yet, but I was entertaining the idea of starting. But there was nowhere nice to run! I had three choices: 1) Run around in small circles in a roundabout. 2) Run among the dead. (New series idea: The Running Dead. No?) 3) Run along boring suburban streets in the wintry cold and, of course, in the wind. (Remember I wasn't really close to downtown/the canal, which would have been a nicer place to run.)

I did a little bit of the sad cold suburban street running, but mainly I succumbed to the cold and the wind and the lack of greenery and waited til I got back to Texas to start running in earnest. Which is unfortunate, because I certainly had the time that year. And, looking back at photos, I kind of needed it to counteract the pastry intake. Oh well.

The fact that it was kind of hard to make the most of the region without a car: Okay, so comparing Narbonne to, say, Fort Worth, Texas, it's MUCH easier to get around Narbonne without a car. In Texas, as in much of the US, if you don't have a car, game over. You ain't goin' nowhere. Public transport is nonexistent unless you live in the center of a major metropolitan area.

I'm thankful for the SNCF (train system) (bum, DA dum DA dum... If you've spent any time in France, I know you just heard that in your head) so that I could get around the country. And, of course, I'm thankful for our little buses with the crazy blue seats so that I could get around Narbonne.

However, if we wanted to go to anything that was kind of peripheral to Narbonne (the big movie theater, the bowling alley, the beach, Les Hauts de Narbonne where I tutored), the bus system was pretty sketchy. Buses to all of these more remote locations were very intermittent, and you had to catch a bus TO another bus and get all the timing right, and by the time you got there it took so long you practically had to start your return journey. So that wasn't great. Luckily I got to go some places because some of our friends had cars (Corentin, Carmen, my teacher colleagues, my tutor students), and I'm thankful for that. And I am grateful for our buses, but even in the city proper, the buses stopped at 8:00 pm and on Sundays. After that, we had to fend for ourselves. Between that and the wind, it made returning from nights out interesting.

Les travaux: THE CONSTRUCTION. The portion of the canal that ran through city center was under construction the WHOLE time we were there. It was finished shortly after we left, because of course it was. It was really a bummer. I'd love to go back and see it someday now that it's all finished! Of course, we're set to have a reunion in Narbonne in July 2018, so I guess I will then! (When Dörte writes the date on torn parts of a pizza box and hands it out to everyone, you know it's official. See you guys there, only 2.5 years to go!)

the.whole.time.

The crazies: Okay. I love most everyone I knew in Narbonne. I've said many times that I'm so thankful I was in a small city where it was easier to meet people and integrate. However, sometimes the people were just... colorful. Yeah, really colorful.

Sometimes this was fun, like when it came to all of the characters we'd see at L'Échoppe dressed up in costume (who, incidentally, could sometimes be found in the middle of the day in a top hat, trench coat, crazy long beard, riding along on a kind of weird elongated bike).

Luckily, Zack took a picture of the bike. Zack saves the day. Again.

Sometimes it was just weird. I could kick myself for not keeping better track of all of our weird interactions with people. Why didn't I write them down?! I do remember a couple of instances in particular.

-One time, I was walking along the Boulevard Gambetta talking on the phone to my dad when a woman came up to me and said "Pardon, est-ce que je peux utiliser votre portable?" (Excuse me, can I use your phone?") Alright. Here's the deal. Who asks someone that WHILE THEY'RE ON THE PHONE? Also, I was speaking in fluent (and fast) English. How'd she know I even spoke French?! I just looked at her for a second, bewildered, and told her no, because I was, as it turns out, using it. She walked away, but not without huffing and puffing a bit. (Meanwhile, my dad's all "Katy? Hello? You're speaking French.")

-One time, I was sitting in the laundromat, listening to Mumford & Sons and minding my own business while I waited on my clothes, and some guy just waltzed in, sat next to me, yelled some things in French (which I didn't really hear because I had the music), and sat with his head in his hands for a little bit next to me. I'm sitting there, thinking "Be cool, Soda Pop," and also "Dear God please whisk this crazy man away from me so I'm not murdered and someone else finds all my wet clothes including my panties." Luckily, he left after only a couple of hoedown songs. But... what?!

-This isn't specific, but a really strange number of people asked me "Wait, so if you're American, how can you teach English?" Or, "Wow, that's so cool you can talk with your friends from England even though you're American!" Like, too many people. I felt like I was talking to Mean Girl Karen.

To be fair, I'm know that a lot of Americans ask foreigners ridiculous questions like this, too.

Anyway, like I said, most everyone I knew was absolutely lovely. However, there was a seemingly disproportionate number of crazies, and it was just a little bit strange. But I think I know what the explanation is: THE WIND. After all, they do say wind'll drive ya mad. And I believe 'em.

As a conclusion to this post, please accept these pictures of dogs driving a car in front of the Hôtel de Ville. 

And in a pedestrian zone, to boot!

Keep Narbonne weird.

♥

*I also wrote "Things I LOVE about France."

**Which I can say, because I've lived through a hurricane. Gustav? I'm lookin' at you. I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN.

***Where I casually became a famous stand-up paddler, in case you missed that.

Rain, Cannes you please go away?!

As a little stop on the way back west, Annie and I stopped at Cannes, which is only 30 minutes away from Nice. You may know Cannes because of the annual Cannes Film Festival, which occurs in May. It's right on the coast and supposed to be nice, so we figured, pourquoi pas?

Also, before we start the pictures, let me just give you this little excerpt of our conversation the previous day (the first day we met) in Nice:

"Ugh, the weather is so bad. I wish southern France would hurry up and decide it's Spring. When will the sun come out?!" -moi
"Yeah, I don't know. Maybe tomorrow." -Annie
"Uhhhhhhhh seriously? Are you going to start singing? Do you want me to start singing?" -moi

Anyway, no such luck with the sun, as you can see below.

mini Hollywood Boulevard?

When I was 18, I discovered (at Grauman's Chinese Theater in Los Angeles) that my hands are the same size as Julie Andrews' hands in a picture almost just like this. Here I am 8 years later (?!) replicating it in France.

Catherine Deneuve

Here you can see the famous steps that the stars walk up to attend the film festival (thanks to avignon-et-provence.com for the photo).

Here's what the stairs looked like when we showed up. Yeah, that's right. DISAPPOINTING.

You can see how it might be charming... without all the gloom.

We were all "Oh let's take a cute picture with that giant French flag bon-bon," and then were like "This rain is dis-gusting. Let's get to a café."

The winding, uphill streets left me with the desire to wander around... some other time.

La Favela: Restaurant Tex-Mex... Somehow I doubt it.

Finally we found ourselves a café, where they were actually done preparing food but they made us some anyway. And the waiter was speaking some English for us, even though we were speaking in French. And also, there was this cat. Just chillin' in the café. They even fed him in the café. "You know you're in France when..."

Also, when the weather is horrible, you may or may not end up comforting yourself in this way.

Trompe-l'œil at the bus station, featuring great characters and actors from throughout cinema's history (Charlie Chaplin, Mickey & Minnie Mouse, Jack & Rose from Titanic, Charlie Chaplin, Batman & the Joker, Roger & Jessica Rabbit, Fred Astaire, C-3PO & R2-D2, a drawing from Le Voyage dans la Lune by Georges Méliès (which I never would have recognized had I not watched the film Hugo), among others)

Even in the rain, there are always beautifully-displayed macarons. After all miss, this is France!**

Basically, Cannes kind of blew. I mean, it was just the weather. And the fact that we couldn't go on the stairs. I really wanted to explore more of the city; it looks like it must be really nice in better weather, and there are movie tributes throughout the city (like murals, for example) and cute little winding streets. Maybe another time, Cannes. We'll try again someday.

*I mean seriously. Can I get a witness? That was about to be a musical moment up in here!

**Please get this.