Porto, Portugal and Port Wine

If you haven't heard by now, the Portuguese know their wine.  Producing it, aging it, consuming it and enjoying it.  So, you wouldn't be surprised if I told you that I can't recall too much about the weekend that the boy and I recently spent in Portugal, visiting his parents.

Except that I can...Because another thing that the Portuguese know how to do? Serve humongous portions of food.  Serve and eat humungous, colossal sized amounts of food, mitigating the effects of all the wine you're drinking to wash it all down.  And then, here's what happens: after all of this eating and drinking and "Oh, Lauren, you only ate one plate full; here are seconds, but save room for cheese and dessert," you're left in a coma the rest of the afternoon, in perfect synchronized time for the non-stop soccer matches that just happen to be playing on tv; and if you're me, this will further induce the catatonic state.

Thank God for the Kindle.

But in between eating and drinking and comas, we all managed to tour the beautiful waterfront city of Porto (Parents included).  And while I awkwardly tried to dodge parental discussions of marriage and my desire for him to move to California, we admired Porto's impressive architecture, lively squares, river-front restaurants and countless churches.  And here's what I thought:  It's nice, quaint and historic.  I envy their relaxing spirit, their incredible seafood restaurants, and their tolerance levels for alcohol.  I hope to visit again, because only in Portugal, is it okay to tour wine caves at 10 a.m. and indulge in every tasting.  As the Portuguese say with their wine glasses up, Ching Ching!

Why Antiperspirant is Important

A supposedly fun thing that I'll never do again?

Take a 11 hour flight sitting next to a ceaseless PDA couple.  I get it.  Really--You're young, you're non-conformist, you want me to know that lesbian is the new black.  No problem.  But on an extremely long flight with extremely little personal space, the least you could do is wash your dreadlocks and put on a little antiperspirant.

22 hours, two failed naps, and one double-espresso later, I finally made it to Lyon, via a seemingly endless Amsterdam layover.

Sunshine and Starbucks could only keep me grounded in California for so long.  I became nostalgic for the French. For the city life. For the language....and obviously, flan.  But even more so, for a certain someone.  A certain French someone.  Did I mention I've been dating a French man?  There, I said it. 

Let's back up.                               

Once upon a May 2010 ago, I met this French someone.  However, after ending a long distance relationship a few months earlier and being the quintessential commitment phobe that I can be, I was timid to start something new.  But along he came promising to never have dreadlocks and to always wear antiperspirant, and so I thought, why not just one date?!

And well, one date turned into two and three, which progressed and turned into a year.  The truth is simple: he's a man who makes me laugh, treats me well and as a result, I missed home, less.  He speaks four languages, eats the same two chocolate croissants for breakfast every morning, and has a penchant for ironing.  He loves scuba diving, soccer and me.  The language barrier is difficult at times, but he has a patient soul, a swoon-worthy 5 o'clock shadow and a kiss that makes my knees weak.  He didn't give up on me with my indecisiveness; Instead, he stuck around, planned weekends away and romantic dinners in French towns I had never seen.  He does, however, critique my inability to sing, but in return, I remind him that he can't pronounce his "H", because well, he's French.  "It's not an ug; it's a hug!" 

Somewhere between living far from my comfort zone, and his ability to make me feel so comfortable, I let the proverbial guard down and a love story transformed.  Except that for a girl that's absolutely not French, and a boy who is sometimes too French, that love story transformed into long distance.  That's what brought me back to France for two weeks. 

And you were thinking it was because I missed being an Au Pair. 

Change of Plans

What was originally planned as a two-week vacation back home to California with a return ticket to France, has now turned into an indefinite stay. The reason: assorted. My feelings (along with the contents of my suitcase): various and scattered.

Here’s the thing: Being an Au Pair? Not so much the ideal job, but yes, being in France was pretty ideal. More so, with my third au pair experience, I ended up caring for some pretty incredible girls. There were still moments of doubt; still moments where I had to muster up some courage, remind myself to breath, because the bottom line is that living with someone else’s family is just plain hard. Seeing your boss at the breakfast table in his briefs is no delight, either. The unfamiliarity of another country, trying to navigate the things that we normally take for granted (ie: depositing a check!): also hard. Ditto homesickness, snow, and a somewhat pessimistic culture.

But that’s not why I left, and I know that a few bad days don’t make the whole story. I know that aside from all of the coulda-woulda,-shoulda moments, it truly was an incredible experience. Sometimes, it’s just a matter of laughing it off and practicing the art of adaptability. I’ve learned the payoffs of being a risk taker, a follower of adventure, a truster in the universe. It all works out.

When living in a country that considers Nutella a breakfast food—a place that’s six hours from Barcelona, three hours from Italy, and a train ride to the Mediterranean—that I probably am where the grass is greener. Or, I was. But now, it’s time to get my life back on track, organized and time for me to tie up the loose ends that I left before going to France. Then maybe, just maybe-absolutely-hopefully, one day, one day sooner rather than later, I can return to France…..sans Au Pair.

Because, France, tu me manques.

On the other hand, sunshine and short-sleeves in March is always nice.

Surprises

Being an Au Pair is full of surprises; surprises that aren't nearly as boring as you might imagine.

Like being told by a 6 year old on a Wednesday morning to stay in bed.  As if this wasn't delightful enough, 13 minutes later, I got this:

Plain yogurt with granola, green tea, bread and butter, and a glass of apple juice just the way I like it: 3 parts water, 1 part apple juice.

These girls learn quick.

So you see, it's not all bad, this job.

Except, guess who cleaned the kitchen from their breakfast making project?

The Soldes

My dad (my real dad, not the host-dad), lover of black cashmere, modern men's fashion, and all things bargain, paid $1.20 a minute to call me internationally from California.


"Lauren, the soldes (aka sales) are going on in Lyon right now!"


The clouds parted, the skies opened up to the heavens and the angels started to sing.


But reality shook me as I immediately remembered:

1. I’m an Au Pair. I'm an Au Pair who is not inherently wealthy by any means. At all.
2. My dad was only telling me this so I’d remember to see if Celio Club had marked down the sweater he saw during vacation here.


And then the inevitable happened. I became nostalgic for a time that I previously loathed: the nine-to-five day job, a time of direct deposit and a salary larger than three figures.  Here’s the thing: the sales in France (and all of Europe) only happen twice a year.  None of this every-holiday-sale-stuff  (Name-drop: Macy's!)  Furthermore, they may not have soldes often, but when they do, they really do.


Some people collect antiques; some spend their earnings on restaurant outings; sports events, drugs, whatever.  I even know a woman who collects editions of Quicken software (sorry, Mom), and well, so what if I enjoy the occasional clothes and shoe sale.  I mean, can you really have enough pairs of black leather boots?!  Call me shallow, call me materialistic, call me selfish--I am all of those things and more; I’m American.


I don’t want to advertise, by any means, that money or materialistic goods will bring happiness.  Hell, I was the girl at North Country Elementary School who got her clothes from second-hand stores and Target; but then came the day that I tried on my first pair of Nine West heels, marked 50% off and take an additional 40%, and it was all over--I fell victim.  So all I’m trying to communicate is that if you’re between the ages of 20 and 29, looking at the possibility of becoming an Au Pair and you enjoy the occasional purchase, it’s highly possible that this job may not be for you.  Ditto if you place high importance on independence, privacy and vegetables.


Sorry, Dad, they didn’t have your sweater.

Happy 2011

If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. So I didn't. For two (plus) months. I turned my back on the "project" and retreated into the background. But I'm baaaack. Yes, after a month of health issues, infections, a root canal, what I assume was the common cold, constant nausea, a much needed European family holiday vacation, and a partridge in a pear tree, I'm back!

Happy 2011! Finally! Can we agree that 2010 was a bit rough? Okay, maybe "challenging" is a more appropriate word choice. But before you think I'm being egotistical, self-absorbing, or anything else that is socially unacceptable these days, let me offer up that I’m not just referring to my life. Let's reflect.

January
While I stepped off a plane on January 1st to a new city, new job, and a new life, a 7.0 magnitude earthquake took almost six-hundred-thousand lives in Haiti. We're off to quite a start for 2010! I am now an Au Pair to two French children. I am on top of my game. I am in control. I am not fooling anyone.

February
Because one earthquake just isn't enough, a second one hits in Chile; one so powerful, it shortened the planet's day by a microsecond. However, it didn't shorten it enough to make the time pass faster in a job I realized I was quickly starting to loathe. So during the winter vacation, I took off with a special someone to Corsica to get away… far, far away!

March
I return from vacation and was immediately hit with what I convinced myself was a bout with death—it turned out to only be the flu. But because the snow won't cease and the French are so cold, and most of all, I just miss my family and warm-hearted Californians, I start brainstorming for a change of pace.

April
I learn the feeling of relief after finally quitting my job. I learn that Easter really is for rebirth and new beginnings. I learn that Barcelona is easily one of my favorite vacation cities and that it takes 6 hours by car to return to Lyon from Spain because Eyjafjallajokull Icelandic volcano has erupted, canceling all European flights. I don't care though because the pendulum is on the upswing...

May
Until it's not. Despite reading all of Oprah's and Women's Health articles on how to boost your mood, sleep better and look great, I can't seem to master any of it. Although grateful for the American family who brought me in, I quickly find myself over-worked and underpaid (who are we kidding, I was never paid!). I become stressed--stressed that I don't have another immediate option; stressed that I'm losing my French, losing my health, my hair and my mind. To make matters worse, can we really live in a world without Gary Coleman?

June
The World Cup is in South Africa, a huge sinkhole has opened up in Guatemala and I'm on weekend in the South of France. Though I never mentioned this until now, I have successfully managed to inadvertently set a mattress on fire using only a hair dryer and my savvy. The mattress is in the apartment of my friends who let me vacation there for the weekend while they were out of town.

July
Something-something-something in the media about Wikileaks and internal reports, but I can't really tell you much because honestly, I was completely oblivious to everything. Everything except being the most fortunate "homeless" girl that ever lived because after calling it quits with the American family, I spent four days in London with my very best British friend, two weeks roaming around Croatia, the islands and the Adriatic Sea, and then ten days with Rachel, road-tripping from Paris down to the South of France.

August
August arrived and I was either drunk off of relaxation or hell-bent on not yet giving up France because I signed up with a third (and FINAL, I swear to God) French family as their Au Pair to three awesome girls in the center of the city. It also doesn't hurt when your job starts with a week vacationing with them on the coast of Spain. During their second week of vacation, I sneak off to the Italian coast to explore everything mozzarella covered and garlic infused. Not a bad summer.

September
Here's a real tragedy: I turn another year older. I spend it with my new French OBGYN, which makes me feel even older. I'm nostalgic for previous birthday parties spent with frilly dresses, party favors, the Moon Man from McDonalds and colorfully wrapped boxes of Barbies. However, I put on my incredible new party dress, to spend an incredible night on an incredible riverboat/peniche, eating incredible vanilla and strawberry cake, and blowing out a candle for what I plan to make an incredible year.

October
Oh, the delightfulness of the French. They make unforgettable pastries, they speak beautifully; they enjoy their lives. When they're done, done with their (minimum) 5 weeks of vacation, they complain. They stir, they storm, they strike, they set cars on fire and they make the front page of the NY Times.

But the strikes don't bother me because the French policemen are easy on the eyes. I am keeping my head up (literally). I am going with the flow. I am okay until I'm stuck listening to my host-dad (fill in the appropriate blank) his new girlfriend for 3 hours. I am now sleep deprived, annoyed and longing for my independence again.

November
Did I mention that I love Thanksgiving? Did I mention that it's up there on my list of Top Favorite Holidays, along with Black Friday and the Vernal Equinox? Did I mention that baguettes and fromage, no matter how chewy, carb-y and creamy, will never take the place of my mom's turkey and Trader Joe's pumpkin pie?! Did I mention that nothing sounds more appealing than an entire day sitting around with family, admiring the dysfunction and keeping our aggression passive? No, I never mentioned it because Thanksgiving arrives and cue the arrival of my tooth infection that leads to a root canal, and two more weeks of other infections. But I'm still thankful because in two weeks, I will be vacationing with my dad and brother for the holidays.

Oh yeah, I also misplaced a 7 year old child. There, I said it.

December
So it's official, marijuana is still illegal....But wine isn't!

I've mentally checked out of my job, this project, and I'm trying to muster up what little energy I have left. Instead, I focus on improving my French and reading every book in sight. Escapism.

I'm in need of family, which I fly to meet in Milan December 20th. This turns into a two week adventure with the boys, including Paris for Christmas and, wait for it, yes that's right, Barcelona for New Year's Eve. We tour the sites, we spend way too long in museums, we eat flan every day for breakfast, we make inside jokes, we quote youtube clips, we see Europe together and we spend what is now the Best New Years I've Ever Had eating The Best Paella that has ever been made. We each eat our 12 grapes of good luck, even the soft ones, and hope they keep their promise.

Similar to last year, I spend January 1st on my way to Lyon. This time, I'm greeted with open arms and the best chocolate cake I've ever eaten in my entire life.

So it's official-- 2011. I'm a believer in new things, new beginnings; out with the old, in with the new...hence my shoe collection. I'm ready to take the lessons of 2010 and start anew. This past year has taught me a lot, from keeping track of my scarf and gloves, to learning to accept help from others. I've realized that I'm stronger than I thought, but it's okay to let your guard down once in a while; that at times, you just need to jump and most likely, you'll land on your feet; and even when you don't, just get back up and dust yourself off. I've realized that when all is said and done, I have an incredible support system; and that seriously, no but like seriously, no one makes baguettes like the French. So at the risk of begging, please be good to us 2011!

Happy New Year.

A BNP Affair

I didn't think I would succumb because yes, I'm a bit of a stubborn soul.  I keep my guard up and I hold a soft spot for the familiar.  I don't like to get too involved, too hooked in, too personal.  After all, I arrived in France with the mindset of a single gal without no plans to stay here long term and little constraints. But you know what?  It happened.  It happened one sweet day. I've finally jumped on the bandwagon, let my guard down, opened myself up to possibility and well, the whole seems pretty promising.

Yes, ten months in and I finally opened a French Bank account. 

It feels pretty good. I'm treated well.  They call, but they don't call too often; just to see how I'm doing or invite me to an information session that offers student incentives.  I don't want to get ahead of myself, but they're better than some of the other banks I've been with in the past.  I'm being shown experiences that I haven't yet had until now in France--like being able to rent movies; like renting the city bikes; taking road trips with ease, because for most of the things here in France, your bank card needs that special chip; that chip that I didn't get in America; the carte bancaire.

I quite like my California credit union and despite the distance, we've made it work, which is probably why I stayed committed.  Plus, you know, it's hard.  It's hard once you've trusted other banks that looked good on paper, that your parents approved of, that promised not to disappoint, and then little by little, you start to notice that something's not right--a small fee here, a small fee there.  And that's how it begins.  It never ends well.

Sure, it's still difficult at times with a new relationship and of course, the language barrier can be a bit touchy, but there's patience; like the time they spent 17 minutes explaining to me how to deposit money into the machine versus how to deposit a check into the machine (because it's different than in the States).  Or the fact that I wasn't belittled when I hopelessly admitted, "umm, I don't know how to check my account online. Did you realize your website is all in French?" 

Yes, they did realize this.

I feel the way that I'm assuming my grandparents felt during the age of cell phones and email, but it's okay.  I'm making progress, I'm making efforts and BNP and I, we have a basic communication.  It's the foundation, right? Who knows what will happen when it's time to pack up and return to California, but for now, I know that I'm living in the moment.  I'm happy….with my new bank.

How To Misplace a Child in 5 Easy Steps (without even knowing it)

1. When the children's school starts at 8:30am, make sure you're running late to ensure stress and scrambling.

2. Once you've gotten downstairs from the 6th floor of your apartment building with the elevator made during the days of Yore, make sure the younger child ("CHILD A") realizes there's a page missing from her story-time book, a book that she doesn't need for school. This way, she will ask if she can go back upstairs to search for the page. This will take at least 6 minutes so you will tell her no, "Il n'y a pas de temps! We will be late!"

3. Cue Child A's tantrum, which will steal more time from your already rushed morning. You're more than halfway there. Let's keep going.

4. When the 7 year old ("CHILD B") asks if she can go ahead to school (which is only a few blocks away), ask if she knows the way. She says she does. Fall for her convincing affinity of independence. Don't consider the fact that you live in a large city and moreso, in the city center with lots of traffic and current riots taking place. She's totally capable, right? So tell her yes, "yes you can go ahead to school. We'll see you there." Assume that she won't get very far. Assume that the knot in your stomach is from the outdated yogurt you ate that morning.

5. Because you've had "that" kind of week, CHILD A will continue to throw a tantrum at the bottom of the stairwell for the next 3.5 minutes. Once you get her outside of the building, ensure that she throws a tantrum all the way to school, including in front of the police station (just for good measure and to add a bit of chagrin). Since you are running considerably late, assume that CHILD B made it to school just swimmingly because well, you didn't see her on the way. Comfort your doubts by reminding yourself that there are a few different routes to take. Drop off CHILD A in the nick of time, and voila, that's it!

You will return home to get your own books for school and then hear the buzzer ring, to which you will be stupefied to find that there is a strange woman downstairs with CHILD B. She will tell the heroic story of how she found CHILD B looking lost at a cafe on the corner of your block. You thank her. You inform the eavesdropping overly pretentious neighbor, when she asks, that the father returns from his business trip in two days (so that she will know when she can squeal to him about your incompetencies). Now you can proceed to take CHILD B to school, return home and take a breath.

Then, go ahead and ruminate about what in the (profanity spoiler alert) hell were you thinking letting a 7 year old go to school by herself in the center of a city, with traffic and riots going on?!? You can proceed to question your own capabilities while a surge of anxiety washes over you. Out of resentment, you can then reminisce of the days in California when you weren't responsible for children. You can even Freud yourself, questioning if you did this on a subconscious level so you could be fired and sent home.

I'm not fired. I'm still here.

Let's do some gratitudes:

• I have a really really fantastic support system in California!
• My dad and brother are coming to visit in a little over a month!
• While studying at a cafe the other morning, an 85(ish) year old man bought me coffee and sparked up a conversation with me for the following 30 minutes. This fulfilled my longing for friendly strangers, which I think is rare here.
• I'm done with cranberry juice!

The Pre-Au Pair Guide

Maybe it’s something in the air. Maybe it’s the economy. Maybe it was the 10 page NY Times article on the 20-Somethings and our delay into adulthood; or maybe, just maybe, the itch has spread for some adventure, for travel, for a new experience away from a desk job. And this is why: Lately, I've been receiving a good amount of emails asking for advice by prospective au pairs. Why they deemed it a good idea to come to me for advice, I'm still wondering myself because even as Keith over at Taste of Garlic commented, "if you are thinking about becoming an au pair in France, it might be better if you don’t read The Au Pair Project until you’ve got the job!"

But hold on, let's not panic. I can switch gears and speak unbiased. No heavy lifting, no assembly required. I can even leave my resentment at the door and refrain from offering prospective au pairs my job here so I can return to the smoke-free skies of California. Did I mention that France is setting cars on fire while rioting and striking through the streets? So, just for the hell of it, for the sake of honesty, because I wish someone would've been honest with me, I’ll lay the cards out on the table.

Et bien... So you want to be an au pair? Really? No, but like really? You’re sure? You've put some thought into this? I admire your vigilance and possibly question your sanity, but okay. So what was it that lured you in? The travel? Let me guess, you love kids and you want to work with children one day? Or is it that the Au Pair Route is the easiest route to land yourself in a foreign country without completely draining your bank account? If it’s the travel, then wait. Save up and just travel. If it’s the love of children, then wait; this could (and most likely will) change your views. If it’s the latter, well then okay. Top sites for searching for a host family: www.aupair-world.net. There are beaucoup de sites out there for au pairs, but after talking with families and au pairs here in France, Au Pair World is the most widely used. Some sites advise that you use an agency, but I say skip it. Take that $200 fee that they will charge you and put it in your savings because once you find out your au pair salary, you'll need it. It's also You, who has your best interests at heart; not an agency. But if you're still hellbent on having someone do it for you, I'd be happy to search for you in exchange for a fee!

• When Searching for a Family: Let me demystify the Au Pair/Host Family vocabulary for you. Just outside of the city means: at least 30 minutes and unless you're in Paris, the public transport (aka the buses) end at an obscenely early time (even on the weekends) and aren't always dependable. Go ahead, ask my mom about the time I called her fed up because the bus to take me home never showed up and it was snowing and I had to hitchhike at 11 at night. Oh, the good ol' days. In short, be INSIDE of the city. Yes, families do exist there. The kids eat lunch at home means: find a different family because there goes your free time during the day. Pets mean: they will also, most likely become your responsibility. Just ask my friend Ife who lived on a farm with 3 donkeys, 2 dogs, x amount of birds, chickens, geese, cats, and this doesn't even count the stuffed animals that they kept inside of the house. And then there was the time that I lived with the American family that asked me to clean the cat's litter box. It's too bad I'm allergic. But more truthfully, I'm just allergic to all things that I don't like. Part of the family means: we want to feel comfortable enough with you to ask you favors without having to pay you extra--like we would with an eldest daughter. Strong willed means: ...it means that you never want to hear or read this from a parent who is describing their child(ren). This is also courtesy of my friend Clare and well, let's just say that the boy she cares for is so strong willed that she is thinking about moving back to Australia. Clare?

• Step II: You found a family. It's time to ask questions; be a curious yellow because well, you never know. Let me just remind you that you're giving up the familiar to move to a foreign country and work in a home of strangers. Let me remind you that ASSUME makes an ASS out of U and ME, but mostly, just you. Let me remind you of the family I came here for that served me up full of creme-fraiche and bacon, forcing me to use my modest stipend to pay for my daily serving of vegetables. But which questions do I ask? If you stay in the house with the rest of the family or if your room is separate. Do you have your own room? Do you have your own bathroom? Is there a closet for you to put your things? (Like I said, don't assume). Who does the house-keeping (because keep in mind you take care of kids, not the housework)? Who does the grocery shopping? Do you have a curfew? Do you have weekends free? Are you able to go out some nights during the week? What are your hours (Ask for a schedule!!)? Do the kids eat lunch at school or at home? Do you have Wednesdays off or do you babysit? (Remember that French children don't have school Wednesdays) Who does the cooking? How have the children reacted to previous au pairs? Can you contact the previous au pair? Do they draft up an au pair contract? Will you be covered by Securite-Sociale? If you don't live in the city, is there a car for your personal use? Are you expected to drive the children places? etc, etc, etc... The main idea is this: You need to have a clear sense of your role and responsibilities. Furthermore, each party should have a well-defined understanding of each person's needs because then, everyone is happy!
• And as if you thought I forgot, ask about your salary. You can negotiate your salary. There is a minimum pay if they sign a contract with you (which should be required) of 300 euros a month, but if you settle on this, you might end up resentful when you realize what your job entails. A girl emailed me that a family wanted to hire her and just offer her room and board without pay. I told her to run away! The truth is this: People will give the least they can and take the most offered. It's basic human instinct and to heighten this theory, it's France. The country that gets a minimum, a minimum I tell you, of five weeks of holidays, but is outside rioting over retirement age. Remember the family I worked with for 3 months and was paid nothing? Do what I say, not what I do.
• To supplement your oh-so-generous salary, you can advertise private tutoring or English lessons at your local school, local boulangerie, patisserie, market, etc. Just make sure to ask the owner if it's okay to post your advertisement.

• Language Courses: The chances of finding a family that's willing to pay for your language classes is slim to none because the au pair sites tell them that they don't have to, which I think is pretty sneaky because with language classes that cost an average of 220 per month, you will end up with next to nothing for salary. Let's pretend you make 300 a month and you pay 220 to your language courses, which are required for your visa. Let's also pretend that you pay for your own transportation pass (which the family should pay for) and that's 25 euros with the student rate. Now you're left with 55 euros per month? That's not even 2 euros a day. You've now become on of those children on the donation commercials that are able to subside on next to nothing. Congratulations. But you want to take the language classes, I tell you!! It's time away from the house where you'll meet tons of people including other au pairs and hopefully, make some lasting friendships. If you're really really really "dans le rouge" and the thought of paying this fee every month is stopping you from taking the au pair plunge, then I will underhandedly inform you that if you stop taking language courses after the first month, the French government (or anyone for that matter) is not going to come check up on you. France is too occupied with strikes.  
• A great reminder that came from a fellow Au Pair Clare, is to pay for your language classes in bulk, which usually results in a discount. And don't forget to enroll for the au pair language program. It's cheaper than the programs for other students.
• Go meet some people, make some friends and get yourself away from the G-rated crowd once in a while! I can say with certainty and gratitude that maintaining my friendships has helped me to maintain my sanity. Aside from your language school, use meetup.com. It's pretty widely used here, according to others. Take an activity class like dance, singing, karate, n'importe quoi! And then, while you're at it, join meetic.com. Yes, it's the French version of www.match.com. So, what?! Everyone deserves a little "action".

Fact: If I had to do it all over again, I don't know if I would choose the Au Pair Route. I might seek other options like being a teacher's assistant or teaching English, but learn and live, right?! But it's also true that there are au pairs who love every minute of their experience. Lucky ones that end up with great families, their own apartment paired with a kick ass schedule. It also goes in reverse: there are families who end up with terrible au pairs. It all comes down to finding the right fit, which is why it is so so so important to ask questions and get to know each other. It's important.

Fact: I love living in France (yes, even with the riots, the manifestations, the lack of petrol because of the riots, and the worst customer service imaginable). I really do love this country. I love the language, the cafes, the culture, the flan, the way of life, oh the flan! I'm in love.

Fact: I also love my independence. Since I became an au pair, I haven't seen much of it. I miss going and coming when I want; oh what a beauty it was to have my own apartment. I miss not having to report to anyone on my whereabouts and I miss not having a curfew, but hey, 26 with a curfew isn't unreasonable, right?! Moving on...

Fact: I complain, I know, but the truth is that the travel aspect of this job that comes every six weeks (because French school systems break every six weeks) makes every part of this job worth it. I think I forget this sometimes, (these last couple of weeks especially). Without this experience, I probably wouldn't have had the opportunity to gallop and sashay my way around Europe; to get lost in the streets of Cannes or salsa my way through Barcelona; tan myself nude on the beaches of Croatia; hike the canyons of Casis; road trip through France or regret making out with the way-too-young-for-me med-student in Dubrovnik. I earn next to nothing but have gained so many experiences and stories. Traveling changes the soul. It changes one's outlook and opens the eyes to things you've only imagined. It's quite magnificent and for that, I'm grateful.
So, if taking the plunge as an au pair seems manageable, then take the jump. It could be something really fantastic. Bon Courage future au pairs!!


**Updated Nov. 9, 2010, because I care. 

The Versatile Blog Award

There's an award for everything these days. It's true. I've yet to receive one for my awesomeness in being an Au Pair but, BUT there's still time! Anyway, the wonderful blog: An International Affair was kind enough to give me this blog award

In order to accept this award, I must do the following:

1. Thank and link back to the person who gave me this award
2. Tell everyone 7 things about myself
3. Pass this award to 15 other bloggers

Thank and link back to the person who gave me this award.

Merci!! I appreciate the recognition, especially after creating this little project just for me and finding out that others follow it.

An International Affair is a fabulous blog about a thirty-something year old woman of mystery who is on an international search for love and laughs! In her own words, "It's about the life you didn’t choose. Your alternative choice. The path not taken. My blog is about what if you didn’t marry your high school or college sweetheart. What if you didn’t have children with them in your late twenties or early thirties. What if you said “yes” when your company asked you to move abroad (five times). What if you pursued your career relentlessly and with single minded determination to get ahead and be the best. What if you left your friends and family behind. What if you gave it all up for a new adventure? And what if you didn’t care so much about the end destination but more about the journey and decided that life is about laughing about yourself rather than taking yourself so seriously?" It's how I'd like to live my life!

Tell everyone 7 things about myself:

1. I will sheepishly admit that since I moved to France, I have no idea of the current events going on in the US. This includes but is not limited to politics, news stories, movies, television and everything in between. I am, however, current on the concert tour dates of Lady Gaga. Priorities.

2. I love airports. I love everything about them. They are "pavloved" to the part of my brain associated with vacations.

3. Even in France, I try to work the "That's what she said" joke into conversations whenever possible. And in English.

4. I hate cranberry juice. I associate it with bladder infections. I bet you wanted to know that little fact! I also hate cold pizza... but not because of bladder infections.

5. I live in France and I wish I could speak Italian. Go figure.

6. In my head, I have the delusion that I speak really really well French. Ditto for singing.

7. I incessantly lie to the children. I told the girls last night that it was against the law to not brush your teeth; that the Pastry shop was all out of pastries; that I let them stay up until 10 pm, "which is way past your bedtime!" (it was 8). It's all about morals.

Pass this award to 15 other bloggers

Some of my favorites:

• Kim at Adventures in Wanting, who I may get to travel with in May!
• Ammena at Fancy That...Fancy This, who cracks me up with her very honest outlook on motherhood.
• Sasha at Flip Flop France, who offers great advice about France.
• Live Love and Living in France... it's pretty self explanatory
• Sara in Le Petit Village, who has some great stories about her life in Provence!
• Claire over at Yours Sincerely, The French Chapter, who was mentioned in the Pre-Guide for Au Pairs
• My previous French Au Pair Partner In Crime who has moved back to England and pursuing a career in journalism: Ife at Cackle Out Loud
• And of course, Keith over at Taste of Garlic, who not only honestly reviewed TAPP, but also does great reviews of blogs in France.

Et voila! I'd love to go on, but I have French Administration to deal with this afternoon. Bon week end! (And yes, I do find it bizarre that the French break up the word "weekend" into two words.)

The Sweet Life

Uh...Yeah right.

If I told you why I couldn't sleep; if I told you why even a Trazadone didn't do the trick; if I told you why no amount of Sleepy Time Tea or Melatonin could help; if I told you why I was up until 4 am, which gave me two hours of restless sleep and led to a very challenging, very grouchy day after, you would agree with my frustration. You would sympathize. You might even invite me to escape to your home for some peace and quiet. And wine. But alas, the details aren’t important. Just keep in mind that I live in the same apartment as the family, which happens to be a single dad. Keep in mind that my room lies in between his and the girls'. Keep in mind that single parents still date and sometimes, those dates are successful. Three hours of success.

This is tough. Sometimes, it's very tough. Yes, I am enjoying a year in another country, a year learning another language, and finally finding a family that makes this experience manageable. I love living in the center of the city. I love being able to go jogging along the river. I love meeting friends at a cafe in the evenings. But, this job still has its moments. It's hard to live with someone else's family. It’s hard to live with your own family at times, so I don't know what I was thinking. It's not easy being an adult who still reports to someone on my whereabouts—“I'm going to the market. I'm going to a dance class. I'm going...N’importe où!”

I used to think that what doesn't kill me, makes me stronger. Some of my innocence died, some of my optimism has been lost and I now know what doesn't kill me, gives me great anxiety and keeps the pharmaceutical industry in business.

So, I'm summoning positive thoughts; I'm listing my gratitude’s, I’m buying a pair of ear-plugs.Gratitude:

• Coming up with a list of gratitudes during a week like this week.
• I'm going to Grenoble this weekend for a dinner party. Yes, that's right. That is my life.
• Single parents that travel for work. How I can't wait to sleep tonight.
• Dance Master Class workshop this Saturday morning. Fingers crossed.
• The sun is out--although now that I said that, watch it rain tomorrow. Just watch!

Adam and Eve

The kids are now into their fourth week of school and I couldn't be happier. They are exceptional kids, I promise! But have you tried entertaining a 6 and 7 year old for thirteen hours a day, all while trying to keep their older sister from provoking arguments?! Let's just say that we've taken a lot of walks around the city and I've taken a lot of deep breaths. In any event, we know the Centre Commercial aka The Mall very well.

The kids, well, they aren't the only ones who had la rentrée. Yes, I've also headed back to school, which more simply means, I'm back in my visa-required, twelve hours of French courses each week. Which can then be simplified further as two weeks of my salary because not only is French a bitch to master, it's also incredibly expensive. But it's okay because it's an investment, right?! An investment in my future; my future which will most likely continue in California, where everyone speaks Spanish. C'est pas grave! That's beside the point because the point is, I can now tell someone off in French without pulling out my dictionary and have them walk off. Plus, learning prevents dementia, which has helped me to remember the endless French verb conjugations, but more importantly, prevents me from forgetting the children every day at 4:30 pm.

Since French children don't have school on Wednesdays, the Au Pair also doesn't have school on Wednesdays. I'll tone it down by saying that I used to loathe Wednesdays--the activities, the stress, the carpooling. But now, it ain't so bad, and I’ll venture to say it can be enjoyable to spend the day relaxing with the two young French kids. The problem though is I miss my French class and have to play catch up. I hate this. But what I learned on this particular Wednesday was worth so much more than I could ever pay for in a classroom.

Cue 6 year-old Petite Rose:

Our mornings have become quite routine. I love them. Her and I are the early birds of the household and so, we rendez-vous at the kitchen table for our petit-dejeuner. I have yogurt. She has Honey Nut Cheerios—so very French.

"Lolo, est-ce que tu connais l'histoire d'Adam et Eve?"

I set down my tea. "L'histoire de what?!" Already knowing that her version would be so much better, I replied, "No, Rose. Tell me the story of Adam and Eve."

"Well first, God created 'la terre' and then, he created un homme et une femme. Il s'appelle Adam et elle s'appelle Eve," she continued. "Et apres, God created an apple tree, but he told Adam et Eve that it was 'interdit' to eat 'les fruits'. But then Eve, she ate the fruit because she was distrait--"

"Wait a second," interrupting to make sure I heard correctly, "She ate the fruit because she was distrait? No snake or anything?"

"Non. She was just distrait. And then, Lolo, then they had lots of babies who grew up and had their own babies and that's how the world was populated.... But I don't really believe that. Do you?"

So there you have it; Eve was absent-minded-- Absent minded. So she ate the fruit and populated the World.

The end.