A Long Hello

After one year of silence I have decided to start writing again. Coming to Senegal overwhelmed my senses and I found it difficult to write anything other than facts or fantasies. Facts concerning my whereabouts or fantasies of the future mixed with stresses of the present. Nothing new, creative, complete, and especially not anything I would ask others to read. I don’t want this only to be a travel log; a series of pictures and reports of locations so far away that there is no hope to see again.

But that is where I am… far away.



I am in the Peace Corps. That overarching statement envelops a huge portion of my current existence. Peace Corps requires a complete transformation in order to survive. I have come to the point in my cultural immersion that I have been able to chill out and relax. Up until this point my body was under constant duress. If the mind is not at ease the body will not be either. Due to language constraints everything was stressful, exacerbated by the paranoia that everyone is talking about you. Then there is the constant shout of ‘Toubab’ from children on the street. That gets really old, but I just pretend they are telling me that I am pretty and it makes me feel great.

The weather plays its ridiculous and often cruel effects. In the year I have been here I have seen hot dry days of 120˚ and humid rains of 88˚. Both seasons are dramatic and inspiring. When I have come back from an 80km bike ride in the mud and rain or heat and sun I know that I have changed. And I am proud of who I have become.





I have been on a brief sojourn around the country blowing off some steam. After one year in the village and Senegal as a whole I was in serious need of some R and R. So I went to the capital with a pocket full of cash and the intention to indulge in every food and drink fantasy that I had had during the last year. It was a very worthy goal.

Food in the village is the same lunch and dinner everyday. Lunch is white rice with a watery peanut butter sauce and dinner is a finely pounded corn powder with watery leaf sauce. Both meals are consistently disappointing in my family compound because 25 people eat of one person’s pay check. There are other family compounds that eat meat and veg in every meal, but that is not mine. When I give food they ration it out. So after a few months in the village with nothing satisfying to eat but care package goodies, I get a little crazy for food. Every once in awhile I try to splurge and find a hunk of cheese or a wart hog sandwich.

I also have been to some incredible beaches and mangroves lately. There is an island off Dakar called Ile des Madeleines that has a very cool lagoon to swim in. The island isn’t more than a rock off the coast covered in baby Baobab trees and birds, but the swimming in the cool blue water was fresh and fantastic.



I went down the coast to Poponguine to help in the filming a documentary. I am on the board of directors for SeneGAD, a Peace Corps association for Gender and Development in Senegal. See the website www.senegad.org for more info. I have been helping a couple of friends shoot footage of successful women talk about their education and careers to use as a tool in middle schools and high schools. The coolest part of the project for me so far was getting permission for two of Mali’s most popular musicians to use their music in the film. Amadou & Miriam are a blind couple from Bamako, their style blends traditional village beats and melodies with European and American influences. They were very gracious to let us interview them and record their concert. Not to mention their music kicks ass!



As a final trip to the beach before I returned to my mountainous enclave I went to a special little island located comfortably off the beaten path. I took a horse drawn carriage through the bush to the coast, where I found a fisherman to take me out to the sparsely populated island. Once there I realized what paradise looks like. Coconut trees, cool villages, and a long stretch of sand beach with no other creature on it but cows. I did yoga with the sun setting into the Atlantic and found the peace of mind I had been looking for. But after two days of bucket baths and village food on the island, I was ready to start the two-day journey inland to the inclines of Kedougou where my work lays waiting for me.







Now I am back, staring down the barrel of my second year in Peace Corps, confident that this year is going to be even better than the last. I invite you to read my installations as I tell you current and past stories of varying temperaments and tones.

Bismillah

Bassari Rights Initiation

We went out to the Bassari Tribe's rights initiation festival in Etchelo. It was one of those, "Oh my god I am in Africa" weekends.

Check out these pics...

I am the White Phantom

My inner dialogue gets so out of whack, so introverted that sometimes I lose track of who I am. I have different names depending on my location, languages float, mix, and fall out of my head. I remember who I was in California, I can remember who I was in France, but here in Africa who I think I am is not so. Yesterday I took a picture with my host family and when I checked the shot I saw how white and bizare I look. How ugly I must look to them. Yet I am desirable to them if only for the money I represent. Men want to marry me. My brother told me he was going to go online and meet and American and ask them for help. He said that the American would send him money. I asked him why he thought that. He said that is what white people do. I tried to explain the concept of self-help and defeatism, but he was lost. This is a generation a people raised with the idea that the only way anything can be done is with the outside help of rich people. All the village has to do is put out their hand and voila, there is the cash. I am here as an aid worker and I can't stand the culture of aid giving.

So you want to live in a hut, eh?

Kedougou, Senegal
West Africa

As you see this is my blog from two years ago, when I started this adventure. To update regarding my whereabouts, after 10 months in Europe I went home for 8 months and worked in San Diego. Last year in April 2006 I headed to New Zealand, Australia, Thailand, and India for a total of 4 months. I was home for 6 weeks before I made the biggest change to my life. I moved to Africa to live in a hut for two years, to serve a developing community, to develop myself and become who I was meant to be.

I have been here in Senegal for 8 months working for the Peace Corps. I have had total writer's block for approximately six months. There is so much stimulation in my life, so many weird things, that I just cant seem to verbalize my analysis. But I will tell you what my life is like, and how my choice to serve in another country has effected every aspect of my existence.

Physically speaking, this is a hard job. I bike everywhere in extreme heat and am subject to nasty rashes and bites. There is often no water to wash with during the day and electricity is something I can only get when I come into town. The food is miserable most of the time. But this was all expected and I deal with it. That is all I can do.

Six months ago I was dropped off in my village with a few belongings and a bike. What seemed weird then seems normal now. I may have become a bit strange. I am very interested in the secret life of cows and often watch them when they aren't aware. They lick their own nostrils in the most delicious manner. I have 2 or 3 cows that regularly find shade in the shadow of my hut and sometimes swing their horns in my front door just to check in on me. We are mutually interested. Goats and sheep have mock human voices and when they cry out it sounds like a child imitating a goat. Chickens are disgusting dirty animals. They are so tasty in America but are tough and scrawny here. Same with the cows. They are malnourished like everyone else.

My dog got in a fight with a monkey. How many people can say that?

Back in Cali

I have been back in Cali for 5 weeks. The first two weeks were spent inebriated in San Diego, the third was spent obliterated in Santa Cruz and job hunting in San Fransisco, and the fourth was spent poolside at my mothers eating and drinking. So where am I now? Well I am staying with my Grandma in LA working on my tan and hangin with my cousins. Okay, so my life in Cali isn't really looking much different from my life traveling. But something has got to give and it will probably give soon. Anyone who knows me knows that I am a total commitment-phobe thus the Peace Corps thing kinda freaked me out. I am just not ready for African poverty. So I gotta get a job if I ever want to blow this popsicle stand. Who knows how long I will work but one thing is for certain, I am working to travel again.

And as always,
Be a traveler not a tourist.

Bounce

I just got back from camping in the Sierras with my dear friends Joe and Jordan. We hiked and saw some beautiful lakes and shot some rifles for kicks back at the camp. I know these guys from when I studied in Paris and in their company I had the space to realize some things about my life.

I have been back for two weeks. I am not the person that I was when I left and I have no desire to start a life here in San Diego again. So where does that leave me? With the urge to flee. Tomorrow I am flying to Oakland to chill with my girls in the north for a week. Time to clear the head. I am currently in the process of filling my Peace Corps Application out and question #11 is a toughy. When am I available to leave? Most likely sooner than later.

Run For Your Life

10 abroad months... tick tick tick... 7 months in France...tick tick tick... 3 months backpacking Europe... tick tick tick...5 weeks in Greece... tick tick tick... 19 hours and 40 minutes until I fly home... BUZZZZZZ!!! My European life is slipping away one minute at a time. I fly home tomorrow morning. It is hard to accept that I will have to return to working life with a boss and schedule. I mean that is real life, isn't it? I have had such a good life here. From learning how to live in French culture to chasing my fantasies all over Europe, life has treated me well. I have met amazing people, I have learned so much about myself and what I want, and all the while I have been seeing the most beautiful sights.

This chapter is ending. My year in Europe. But the book is not nearly finished. I will go home for a breif sejour with the family and be back out on the road to another hemisphere as soon as I can, probably by mid-October.

For those of you who have read my website, thank you. I never knew who in my life cares enough of check in. I will keep this website updated with my summer in San Diego and all the trouble I get into there and will post more travel stories as soon as I get back out on the road. Considering I am a fan of the road trip, my first travel story will probably be in California.

Thank you for your support and encouragement.

Kavala and the island of Thasos

So Kavala was amazing, just like everything else in Greece. A small town on the sea with an old castle overlooking the port. The beaches there rival anything I have ever seen in San Diego, or even Cali. Warm crystal blue water and sand bottoms, perfect for swimming. On Sunday I headed out to the island of Thasos with my mom's friend Maria and her husband. Thasos has thousands of olive trees and just like Kavala it has great beaches. Unlike Santorini or Ios, Thasos has many trees and looks great for camping. My mom wants to retire there and I don't blame her. Perfection.

So Anne Marie is returning home tomorrow morning and I am heading back on Friday. We returned to Athens today and just like every other day in Athens it is freakin hot. Poli Zesty in Greek. I have two days to shop and lounge around till I have one long flight and a whole lot of culture shock.

But don't worry my dear reader, my adventures are not nearly over. I am only going home to get enough money to go to Australia and Thailand, maybe even India. You never know tho, life takes funny turns and you can never really plan for anything. Like the old joke goes, if you want to tell a funny joke tell God your life plans.

Comment if you think I should keep the website.

Thessalonki

So I have traded in my party hat for my church dress. Been hanging out with the Kofikotsios family and have been welcomed like I was their blood. They helped my young family back in the 70's get their start in Greece and are thrilled to have the babies they knew back as young ladies. They have like a million kids that love to learn English and the cooking has been amazing. Have visited a monastary and done a good amount of shopping. Sad to say that we are leaving tomorrow for a smaller town called Kavala to see one of my mother's friends. Anne Marie leaves next Tuesday back to the states and it is fair to say that she is happy to go home. You know how it is when there is a boyfriend involved. (gag) So I am heading back stateside next Friday and it is fair to say that I am FREAKING OUT. It will be nice to see my fam and all that but the culture shock is gonna be tragic. Just looking forward to getting back out on the road as soon as I can afford it.

Until next time.

Santorini and Ios

Annie and I have been having a great time together in Greece. In Athens we mostly slept and layed low cuz of her jet lag. On the island of Santorini we rented a quad and checked out the whole island, including the world renowned sunset. The island looks just like the postcards, white churches and houses with cobalt trim. The ocean is clean and glorious with black sand beaches. While we rode around we played a game of coiunting churches, we got to 39 before getting bored.

We have been on Ios staying at Far Out for a couple of days. Any wasn't exactly ready for the wild on spring break atmosphere, but she has handled it well. We have been laying poolside by day and partying by night. The only drawback is our crappy bungalow which is nothing more than a free standing round room with a thatched roof and no windows. Seriously weird.

On to Thessaloniki to visit family friends this weekend. Looking forward to some culture before heading back into the real world.

What is Urban Pigeon Hunting?

We all hate them, some more secretly than others, those filthy flying rats... Pigeons. Then there are the proud few of us who do something about them, we are the Urban Pigeon Hunters. In the National Gardens of Athens there we were, an engineer, a renaissance man, and your truly all with the same goal, to catch a pigeon.
First we did recon on our prey. They could not be those ferrel tree pigeons. No they would never approach a human. We had to go after those begger types, the ground peckers. A slip knot of twine and a few pieces of well placed bread later we were getting somewhere. They came, oh yes they came in droves, but only one stepped perfectly inside the ring of demise. SNAP, we had it flying around in all directions sometimes straight at the brave hunters. We were on the ground howling with amusement when some bleeding heart canadian teenage girls ran to see what we were doing. "Oh my god you are hurting that bird! Is this some kind of sick sport." Yes this is Urban Pigeon Hunting, and if you would like to see what dumb girl hog tying looks like we can arrange that. We cut the bird from the line and he flew off to a near by tree a string of glory hanging from his feet. We three proud hunters left the park safari glowing from a great day of urban pigeon hunting.

Ios

Hey everybody. So I took the bus from hell from the Pink Palace to Athens. They made it sounds like a really good comfy convenient bus but in reality it was an expensive ride from hell. You couldn't sleep and the seats were so uncomfortable that everyone had crazy neck cramps. Seriously stupid. So me and my fat camp squad Tony and Bryan rolled off the bus and dashed to the port to catch a ferry to Ios but there wasn't another one till midnight. So we sightsaw Athens for the day and I ended up falling asleep on the steps of the Archeological Museum... CLASSY! After a day in the hot sun we finally got to the ferry but they were trippers about letting people sleep on the couches. None of us had slept in 2 days so we passed out anyway. We made it out to Ios and slept and swam all day yesterday, not to mentioned partied at night. The people here are way more attractive than the Pink Palace crew and the island has better beaches. We are gonna party tongight and then catch a 4:45am ferry back to Athens where I will be meeting my sister. Very excited to see a familiar face and to get out of the crazy party modet that I have been maintaining for over a week now.

Love you all.

Get back on the crazy bus

Well my stay here at the pink palace is coming to an end. Tonight me and my cohorts are boarding the bus to athens for one final party. These last five days have consisted of a booze cruise, cliff jumping, a quad safari, a toga party, and lots and lots of alcohol. I am really almost tired of it... almost. Anyway the hardest partiers in the place are on the bus tonight and we just so happen to all be going to the island of Ios. I wish I could just sleep but it doesn't look like that is going to be happening anytime soon. Maybe by the time annie gets here we can have a relaxing vacation. A vacation from my vacation. Until next time.

Corfu Madness

Decided that I was OVER Italy, skipped Sicily and had to get to Greece. Couldn't be happier with the situation really. It actually would be better if I had slept since Sunday night, but so far my stay has been great. I left Marika's house in the south of Italy on Monday morning, rode on a train to Bari, took an overnight ferry to Igio...something in Greece, took another ferry to Corfu, arrived at the Pink Palace, took a shot of ouzo, checked into my room and am heading down to the beach. It's Tuesday at noon and I am out of my head. I bet I should catch a nap before the debauchery tonight, but some zzzz's on the sand might just have to do. The word is that this place is like a party summer camp that people just can't leave and I suspect that it is true. I booked 5 nights, my final night being a real deal toga party, and expect the craziest to occur. Now mom, I know what you are thinking, that this is totally not culturally Greek and that I am hanging with a bunch of drunk anglophones, well you are right. This is madness, utter hedonism. I will get to the cultural stuff later but for now I just need the beach, my bathing suit, and an ivory smile.

Pompeii and Lamezia Terme

Pompeii was cool I guess. I mean with the foot it was a bit of a challenge, and you are right Matt, those dogs are vicious. There are like 80 stray dogs laying all over the ruins with gooey eyes and frothing mouths. There was no way I was gonna touch those mangey mutts and I stopped a couple of little girls from playing with them. I couldn't save the japense tourist from sharing her sandwich with them tho, and when she ran out of food all hell broke lose. Let's just say that those dogs are thicker than theives and had their snarling vengence.
I liked the caster molds of the people dying. Pretty morbid but unlike anything I have ever seen. The coolest part of the ruins was all the freakin pornography saved from over 2000 years ago. Let's just say they had a thing for exagerated size.

After my trek thru the ruins I jumped on a train to Naples then on another train to Lamezia Terme, the home of my old roommate Marika. If Italy is a boot then I am chillin on the top of the foot. Let's just say that I have died and gone to heaven. She actually lives in one of the adjoining towns of Lamezia in the Calabria region. Her house is in the country side and OFF THE HOOK! Her mom has been cooking every meal with all homemade ingredients, the shower has more bells and whistles than a mercedes dealership, and her family is so sweet although we have no common language. This is just the vacation from backpacking I have needed. Today we are going into town and I am getting a full body masssage for only, count em, 21 euros! I just gotta make sure to keep the chick away from my busted foot. By the end of this weekend I should be fully recouperated and ready for Sicily and then... dun dun dun... GREECE!

My foot in Sorrento

UPDATE ON INJURY: Today I went to the hospital in Rome to make sure I wasn't going to have some horrible turn of luck when I was up Mt. Vesuvius. Word is all is well, the docs checked me out and wrapped me up. No stitches! They did say to stay off my feet for five days, at which I just laughed. Best part was they let me go without paying a cent! Once again, yippee for socialized medicine.

Made it to Sorrento and after checking out the town I decided to only stay one day. It is nice and mellow but since I can't enjoy the beach there is really no point treking out to Capri. The town itself if beautiful, perched on the Bay of Naples with Mt. Vesuvius looming in the background. Tomorrow I am going to wonder around Pompeii and then head down to my girl Marika's house in Lamezia Terme. I am not sure how long I am going to spend there but according to doctor's orders I need to take a rest.

Bad Luck in Rome

Well I wasn't going to come here. I was going to skip it and say to hell with the tourist hype, but no I fell into the trap. The past 24 hours have been rather unfortunate for Miss Shaw.
It all began with some nutella and my Swiss army knife. I was trying to clean the sticky substance off my knife when... slit... cut my finger wide open. If that were only the end of it.
Later that night after the pub crawl I was walking home. I slipped out of my flip flops and slit THE BOTTOM OF MY FOOT wide open. Now maybe for a normal person with a car and health coverage this may only be a minor accident. But for me, a backpacker with a first aid kit and no money to go to the doctor this is like a death sentence. So I bandage my foot up cuz there is a lot of Rome I hadn't seen yet and go walking thru Vatican city today. I let a guy I just met at the hostel hold onto my swiss army knife while I went into see what every one else comes here to see cuz of security and all. Well I guess I did a poor wrap job on my foot cuz it layered the the top of my afflicted foot with blisters.
And the freakin cherry on top, the guy never gave me back my swiss army knife. Nope, he just got on a train and left for Florence. So not am I physically disabled now I also don't have the best tool a traveler could ask for.

I am over the city and can't wait to leave. Gonna go try to do Pompeii tomorrow. Hopefully will get better soon and get back to having fun. Keeping my chin up and my foot clean.

Leaving Croatia

A few days in Split made me realize that there is a lot more to the major port of Croatia than the tour books let on to. It is a beautiful walled city situated on the bay and has a fair amount of stuff to do. It is not seedy like many other port towns and has great shopping. Counterfit everything sold openly, as opposed to cardboard boxes on Italian street corners.

I headed down to Dubrovnik on Friday 3 June with Sarah and Nathan, our newest travel buddy we picked up at Plivtice Lakes park. Dubrovnik is hands down my FAVORITE CROATIAN CITY and I wished that I had started there. It has complete fortified city walls, a rich history, and the recent turmoil of the bombings in 1991 lend it an interesting story. When one stands on the city walls one can see all the direct hits from Yugoslav bombs on the roof tops cuz the tiles are different colors, 166 direct hits in total. Mind you these are peoples homes and not military bases. The city has been completely rebuilt and shows few scars of it's troubled past. We swam off the shores and never made it to more islands. Although the water was so lovely I didn't really care. It is so clear that you can see the ocean floor as if it were right under your feet but when you try to dive and touch the bottom it is impossible.

Took a bus back to Split today and am going back to Italy tonight. Will be arriving in Rome tomorrow to go see what everyone else sees just to say yes when people ask me if I saw it. Freakin tourists.

Get on the Bus!

Just got off a 7 hour bus ride. That is better than the 12 hour one I did two days ago.

So the rhythm of Croatia goes as such. Take a bus to where you are
going. Get off and negotiate a room to stay in with a random person
at the bus stop. End up paying 12-15 euro to stay in a double room
with a private bathroom in someone's house. Go out to eat. Go to the
beach. Get on another bus and do it all over again. Internet is hard
to come by and can be expensive but right now I am in the major port
of Split and this internet place RULES. Cheap, clean, and american
keyboards. Can't go wrong.

Another funny thing about Croatia is that no one speaks English. Everyone speaks freaking german. Me and the girl I have been traveling with only spoke to eachother the first week. Then as soon as we remarked that we met three aussie guys, one of who is now traveling the rest of Croatia with us. So as I have said a million times, I am traveling Europe by myself but am never alone for very long.

The waterfalls were great. As beautiful as all the pictures that we saw. The colors were unreal and turned out to be a really peaceful place. Going to more islands tomorrow. Will it ever get old?

You know you are a backpacker when...

10. The only bug that scares you more than foot fungus is a bed bug.
9. a) a hot shower beginning to end is like a gift from god that you just can't stop talking about.
b) the person who takes a shower after you curses you for using all of the hot water.
8. Even the tastiest pizza makes you want to hurl but you just can't stop eating it due to price constraints.
7. You can' remember the last time you sat on a toilet seat.
6. You walk past a group traveling with rolling suitcases and think, "Losers."
5. A 'travel day' is synonymous with running with over 100 lbs of bags while having a simultaneous headache and backache.
4. Everything on your MP3 player drives you mad but you keep on listening to it anyway.
3. Even tho half of the information in the Lonely Planet guidebooks is wrong you still haul 1-3 around, each weighing 5 lbs.
2. You have ask where the bathroom is in 12 different languages but you can't understand the answer.

and the number 1 way to know that you are a backpacker when...

Having all 10 toenails is a thing of the past.

The Islands of Mali Lošinj and Susak

Laying on a deserted beach watching the warm blue water lap the fine sand I thought about writing this blog with much pleasure.

On 27 May we headed on a bus all the way from the port town of Poreč to the adriatic island of Mali Lošinj (pronounced lotion) in one day, which is quite impressive by my standards. Mali Lošinj has about 6500 inhabitants and a cute and colorful port. It reminded me a little of Cinque Terre, Italy in the colors of the facades. The island is covered in dense pine trees which gave me the feel of being at summer camp. The first day we treked to the far side of the island and sunbathed all day. While the bay was a beautiful color of turquoise I was not overly impressed. The beach was a gravelly at best and OVERUN BY GERMANS! Actually that could be said for all of Croatia. So we laid out till we couldn't handle anymore sun and we back in our cush beds before midnight. Needless to say the nightscene on Mali Lošinj doesn't pop unless you are interested in teenage german boys. Guten tag!

So the next day we took a day we took a ferry out to a tiny island called Susak to get away from the Germans. Population 188 and about 3 sq. miles when we stepped off the boat the thought, "Is this is?!" slipped out of my mouth. While the the buildings around the port are a bit dreary the old town up on the hill is quaint. There are no street names in Susak, just numbers. Mass had just let out and the old women were wearing their regional outfits which look like the top half of a nun's habit and the bottom half of a school girl uniform with thick stockings. After getting lost and talking to a local we found out that the nice beach took a 20 minute trek around the bend past a cave. When we arrived it was like that scene out of the movie The Beach. The water was crystal clear and warm with little fish swimming around. We threw down our gear and jumped in. The shalllow bay stretched out for at least a hundred metres. Everyonce in awhile boats manned by nudists would come into the cove. Nudism is a big thing here in Croatia and I have seen more than my fill of old man bits.

We laid there for what seemed like forever before making our way back to the first tourist beach which had been once again overrun by a group of school kids.

Today we got a 4:45am bus to Zagreb where I currently am writing this before heading to the Plevtice Lake Park in the middle of the country. The park is known for beautiful waterfalls and lakes. A nice change from the beach.

Porec, Croatia

Croatia is everything I ever could have hoped it to be and more. Welcoming locals, good food, plentiful clean beaches, and knock off designer sunglasses and bags galore. Not to mention cheap jewelry, I think I am in heaven.

Took a ferry from Venice to Porec, Croatia yesterday. Walked off the boat and was offered a cheap room from a nice (and slightly inebriated) croat named Miro. My travel buddy Sarah and I dropped our bags off and started walking around the small port town. Blue water, sailboat filled bay, pink sunset, and cobblestone streets. The people in Porec are very lovely and kind although the city is overrun by German tourists.

Today we took a boat to tour the Istria coast. Croatia is spotted with tiny uninhabited islands that are covered in pine trees, a nice color contrast to the cobalt sea. I saw we a pirate cave that was too cool. Tonight we are going to feast on the local truffles that are supposed to have some trippy effects.

Tomorrow we are headed to Rijeka as a base for island hopping.

Current Philosophy

The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.
~Mark Twain

Heading to Croatia tomorrow. No reservations, no preconceptions, nothing but me.

Venice

Canals, boats, bridges, blah blah blah... I am staying at a campsite outside of Venice and sadly enough that might be my favorite part of Venice. Sleeping in a tent is so much fun and really cheap. But back to the city. It is over run by tourists and to ride one of those gondolas down a canal cost 80 euros. No thanks. I went around yesterday and saw everything that I wanted to see, including the Guggenheim collection that rocked. No more Madonnas only contemporary art. So today I am sitting at the campgrounds doing laundry and trying to plan my trip to Croatia. Seriously there is almost no literature and no internet help booking hotels so I am kinda going renegade style. Showing up at the port city of Ancona on Wednesday and gonna get on a boat and see where it takes me. Wish me luck cuz I am gonna need it.

Next stop Split (If I can keep up the nerve.)

Florence

Florence was lovely. There is more Renaissance art there than you can stand and I decided that if I saw another Madonna with Child I was gonna freak out. Seeing Michelangelo's David was poignant moment. I was captured by his perfection and is it strange to be physically attracted to a carved piece of marble? What a man.

The best thing that I did in Florence was charm a sweet Italian man into take me wine tasting in the Chianti region. We drove in his convertable thru the Tuscan countryside to a little town called Greve. All along the way there were rolling green hills and winding roads. We feasted on Wild Boar and truffles before tasting at least 20 different kinds of vino. Wine is the international language I prefer to speak.

On to Venice...

Last Night in Cinque Terre

A camera cannot capture...

My friendly neighbor with his sax standing on a beached paddle boat improvising to to Pink Floyd's "Shine on you Crazy Diamond" playing to people eating and talking under a perfect italian nigh sky. Lit up caverns housed dry boats. Me on a stoney porch rocking to the familiar melody, not alone. A waiter brings me the house special to eat on the marina after I tell him that I am a friend of the musician and deny their coveted reserved table. I prefer to eat outside with the singing sax and my bottle of chianti.

This morning I had a dream that I met a old friend and had a great conversation. At the end she got on a train and said she had to go. I asked her why and she said that it was time. I awoke, packed my bags and left Cinque Terre for Florence. When it is time to go it is time.

Figueres

Went and saw a theatre that Dali built in his home town of Figueres and it was seriously the COOLEST art museum I have ever been to. I first heard about it years ago on some travel show and finally made it there on my way out of Spain. Dali converted a burnt out theatre into a museum of his work and his crypt lays below. I saw my favorite painting of Lincoln and it was absolutely huge. Everything in this place was a testament to defying the borders of reality. The Mae West room had a couch in the shape of lips, a couple of fireplace, and pictures of eyes hanging over the mantle. One climbs stairs and looks thru a fish lens mounted on a camel and everything comes into persepective... It is Mae West's face!!! Too cool.

Anyone who loves surrealism must make the pilgrimage. Stay off the drugs tho, the art is enough to drive you crazy.

Cinque Terre

It was quite an ordeal to get here so I will quickly recap my trip from hell. Well there have been train strikes in France and Italy so I had to change trains 6 times and was never sure if I was going to be dumped off in some dark empty train station in the middle of the night alone, or worse yet with a group of freaky dudes. Luckily I met this lovely elderly American couple who were a testament to true love. When my couchette was full of creepy learing men they let me have one of their first class beds and shared the other. Together we were ripped off by a French conductor who took my Eurail pass and threatened to tear it up if I didn't pay him 100 euros all because he didn't like the way I wrote my numbers and accused me of fraud. The couple had to pay 35 euros a piece for some other nonense. That was the last time I was in France and I may never go back again. After being to Spain and Italy I see how terrible and mean they can be. (Sorry Romans friends, I had a bad day.)

So I arrived in Cinque Terre and slept for what seemed like an eternity. Cinque Terre is five lovely villages perched along the rugged Italian coastline overlooking the Mediterranean. They are connected by a series of foot paths, some hanging off cliffs others winding throught the mountains. I have been traveling with a couple of Cali Kids from the OC. Last night we had an AMAZING dinner in this cute little restaurant. The owner came to our table and kept on telling me and my travel buddy that we are "As beautiful as the sun" in Italian of course. At the end of our meal he sat and held my hand as he told us his life story and blew kisses to the women at the surrounding tables. Now this is something that has definitely changed about me. Before I would have been creeped out by what we call a "Dirty Old Man." I watched another table of girls from Cali give AIR KISSES to the owner instead of cheek to cheek acting like he was gonna make out with him. Give me a break, he is 78 years old!! I have been hearing from American girls that they find the attention from Italian men intimidating but I still mantain that there is nothing more menacing than French Arabs. After living in Romans for 7 months I have nerves of steel and find the Italians charming and sweet. Sure it is all just talk to get a kiss off you, but it is done in a way that can make you feel beautiful if you let it. I think that I am going to mellow out here for a couple more days then maybe go to Venice or Florence. I haven't decided yet.

Baci

NO TRAINS IN FRANCE!!

So I went to the train station today to head to Italy and low and behold all trains in France have been cancelled. The goddam French are at it again. I mean,what's new? If a conductor burns a pot of coffee he goes on strike to show solidarity with the beans. So now I am in Barcelona for one more night.

Kabul has been so much fun but kinda getting to the point of saturation. While it is fun to get blind drunk on cheap beer with rowdy Australians, after a week my voice and liver need a break.

Tomorrow I am going to see a theatre that Dali designed in Figueres then head on a 20 hour voyage comprised of 4 trains to get to Cinque Terre where I will chill, swim and maybe even fish.

Mellow, think mellow.

Barcelona

I am in a big party. I dance all night and tan all day. Over the weekend some spaniards took me and my friend Becky sailing around Barcelona. Even tho I took some dramamine I still was getting a little sick and went down into the exhaust filled cabin to sleep it off. I think I lost some brain cells with that little siesta.

Just moved into the infamous party hostel Kabul today. Happy hour is gonna start but I think that I am going to go eat a falafel from Maoz before the drinking begins. Have discovered an undercover bar that looks out onto Plaza Real with hot peeps and cheap drinks, you have to ring an unmarked door and climb three flights of stairs but then voilam the party is on.

More to come.

Mellow in France

So instead of boozing all over France, I returned to my small town Romans for another week. After running all of France with my grandparents I didn't feel like being a tourist for another minute. Instead I tanned on my terrace, sipping Orangina while listening to French radio and reading. Every once in a while I would stroll down the street and say hi to all the people I have gotten to know or duck in to see a movie at the cinema. After I was done soaking up the hospitality of the Romanais I headed up into the mountains to visit Die. Die is this awesome hippy oasis in nestled between snow touched mountains and is just coming alive with the tourist season. The spring rains have turned everything green and flowers scent the air wherever you go. Not to mention that my favorite French alcohol is made here, Clairette de Die.

Tomorrow I will be heading to Barcelona. I do not expect my life to be this tranquil again until I head to Italy. Going to see Dali and Picasso, lay on the beach, and get into whatever kind of trouble I can handle. Meeting up with my girl Crazy Berkeley aka Becky and we are gonna set the town on fire.

Hasta Luego!!

Wine over Water

Dropping the Grandparents off tomorrow in Paris then heading to drink the stars in Champagne country then bike ride through the vineyards of Dijon. This weekend I will be returning to Romans to grab my stuff and then head to mountains to a little hippy town called Die to visit my girl Lalaina from SF. After that I will be dropping into Barcelona for the beginning of my Spain adventure.

Taking my grandparents around France has been a lot of fun although the driving has been a bit stressful. The coolest thing we did was head to the tiny town called Grasse in Provence to see where Parfum was developed and became popular. I have never smelled anything so good in my life, although after about 15 minutes everything smelled alike.

More to come.

Tour Guide in two Languages

So I have been playing tour guide since Paris with my grandparents. It is funny cuz I have English in my ears and French coming out my mouth. They think I am fluent which just makes me laugh but I guess I am a lot better off than when I first got here.

Seeing the beaches of Normandy, the American Cemetary, and the WW2 memorial in Caen was very moving. I definitely appreciate the sacrifice made my the generations before mine. I would suggest anyone who wants to feel the effect of war to visit these memorials and keep their eyes open. Very moving and life changing.

In Avignon right now enjoying the golden sun of Provence. The lavender scented air and pollen laden breeze keeps my allergies active. Enjoying the warm nature of the local population, which is a nice change from the cold bastards in Paris.

Tomorrow going to Nice, will be visiting Monaco and Grasse, where perfume was invented. After I drop my grandparents off in Paris I think I am going to go wine tasting in Champagne and then who knows.

Last Class

Hey, just had to tell you about my last class. My favorite class that I have had all year sang "Imagine" to me in the music room and then we had sweets and drinks. It was seriously the most touching class cuz all of the kids were very sad to see me go. They were all giving me hugs and kisses and were taking pictures. Probably the most memorable class ever.

Adieu Triboulet, Je vous manques énormément. Gros Bisous Tout Pleine, Alexandra

Au Revoir

So my friend who I was going to backpack with got a bleeding ulcer and now has to go back to the US! Therefore I am at square one again. That is just the icing on a dramatic week that has included an international love triangle, unknowingly going to the club with 2 guys I dated, a cameo by the psycho french boyfriend, being deathly ill, the end of my job, and moving. And that's all off the top of my head. Don't get me thinking. I am a freakin lightning rod for drama!

Saying goodbye to the kids and the highschool is a bit surreal. In the end, the students really warmed up to me and I enjoyed their youthful antics. I always let my class be a fun and exciting place for them to express themselves in any language they wanted. I haven't made a lesson plan since December and I think I pulled it off very well. I will definitely miss the young boys smitten looks and blushing cheeks as I tried to coax a little English out of their mouths. It is not every day that you get to be a goddess.

I have been packing my room and cursing myself for bringing so many things from home that would have been better left in storage. Who needs 12 pairs of shoes? And two freaking dictionaries? How about the 3 backpacks and 8 purses? I must have been smoking a heavy dose of crack when I brought that stuff out. Now I have to get it all back plus the crap I have aquired since.

Saturday the Grandparents come to Paris where I will meet them. Then we are off to see Versailles, the D-day Beaches, Avignon, Nice, and Monaco. I am not exactly sure what I will be doing after they leave. I kinda feel like going to Prague, but then again Amsterdam sounds good. I have no idea what I am going to do.

Me, my backpack, my tour book, my eurail pass, and my bank card are ready. Let the games begin.

Countdown to Lift-off

So April fool's day in France is celebrated by taping paper fish on the backs of unsupecting friends. Weird tradition but probably from the same Christianity vs Paganism roots.

Today begins the last week of my stay in Romans. I am pretty happy to be leaving but sad to be leaving the comfort of my life, namely my kitchen and my bed. I will be backpacking Europe for the next three months during which time I hope to see parts of France, Spain, Italy, and Greece. I will be carrying all of my earthly belongings on my back and sleeping in a different hostel every two nights. I except fatigue but also a great adventure. I will be backpacking by myself also, so there are risks that I am going to have to anticipate. Of course I am never alone for very long as I tend to attract fellow travellers of the same genre.

I will actually kind of miss my job as an assistant. I had a fan club of teenage boys that thought I was a goddess. That was cool cuz it was definitely not the case when I was in high school. I will also miss the fact that this seriously is the easiest job that I ever had and probably ever will have.

I should probably mention my trip to Nice over Easter. It was awesome!! We partied hard in the pubs, sat on the beach, and walked around the city. I got kicked out of a Casino because they didn't like my sandals, which was pretty funny. I will be going back in a few weeks with my grandparents, which should be fun.

Watched the pope's funeral today. It's like the world is changing all around us. All of these revolutions and deaths of famous people just makes you wonder what is going to happen next.

Expect my posts to be much more interesting in the months ahead. A tend to get into lots of interesting situations when travelling and won't skimp on the details.

Who Even Reads This Thing?

So we are entering the final 21 days of my stay here in Romans. In the beginning it was boring, cold, lonely, and hopeless. Now it is warm and fun and I am almost sad to leave. As of late I have really gotten into rugby and go and watch all the local games. It is so much better than football or soccer, and the guys are a lot hotter. I know a bunch of the players and coaches. Meow...

Going to Nice tomorrow for the Easter weekend with my Romans girls. Looking forward to the warm weather and the rockin night life. There should be a bunch of English college students there for the holiday. Looking forward to the party.

Happy Easter everybody!

St. Patty's Day in the Twilight Zone

St. Patty's day isn't really celebrated here, so at around 4pm my girl Carrie and I downed a bottle of Malibu and Orangina on the sunny fields of her highschool. It was just like sophmore year. Sitting there drunk as skunks we complained about how French men are so strange. I hadn't heard from my French "boyfriend" in a few days and my vibes were telling me something was awry. At dusk we headed to the one Irish bar in town, which is in fact not Irish at all except in decor, and proceeded to drink even more. 10pm rolled around and I was ready to retire so me and my roomies started heading home. As we approached the highschool where I live a male figure came out of the shadows. Who was it other than my elusive French Amour! He said that he saw me walking on the street and stopped to talk to me. I sent my roommates ahead and as soon as they were out of ear shot the stupid bastard broke up with me!! I am amazed to report that "the talk" is the same no matter where you are. Such lines as, 'it's not you it's me,' 'I think that you are great but...' and 'I am just really messed up in my head' were all used. It must be programmed into the male chromosome or something.

All of the sudden we heard sirens coming up quickly from around the corner. Frenchie said that the cops were coming and almost immediately a small car came racing into the roundabout with a cop car hot on it's tail. Swerving at high speeds around the corner the fugitive car smashed into an oncoming vehicle. Then the cop car rear-ended the fugitive car! Out of the passenger door sprung out a young arab miscreant who came dashing in our direction with a cop on his heals. Frenchie tried to stand in front of me as some sort of chivilrous gesture, but I pushed him to the side. There was no way I was going to miss the most exciting thing to happen in Romans in the past 7 months cuz he wants to feel like my 'protector.' The young fugitive juked right, then left and in from of the kebab shop the cop lurched forward and pinned the punk to the sidewalk. A minute later another cop car had shown up and they dragged him away. Everyone got in their cars and drove off, and once again the street was empty except for me and the Frenchie.

"So you still want to end things with me?"
"Yes. I adore you...blah blah blah... I don't want to hurt you..."
"Right..."
I just kinda zoned out at what he was saying as I knew the words before he even spoke them. I reacted with a numb smile on my face as I soaked in the bizarro-land happenings. An air of resignation passed over me and gave way to a spring in my step. I shrugged my shoulders, gave a laugh, and wished him a good night. It would have never worked out anyway, but I am definitely cool about the experience. If he never broke up with me on the street that night then I would have missed the only episode of Cops-Romans, and that my friends was priceless. Hands down the weirdest day in Romans.

Bad boys bad boys, watcha gonna do?

Everyone who has a french boyfriend raise their hand

If you could see me you would see that my hand is raised.

Yes oh yes... after swearing off French men due to their tight pants and overall greasy demeanor I have found one in particular that strikes my fancy. He does not where tight pants and is the sweetest thing this side of the Atlantic. It took many bad dates and convaluted intentions with guys that would have ZERO chance with me in Cali, but 6 months after arriving I have a found the one who is just right for me. I will keep the details to myself except for the most important one, that he ADORES me and thinks that I hung the moon.

I will be done with my job one month from today. After that I have no idea what I will be doing or how this new romance will factor into it, but I have faith that everything is gonna be just fine.

And for the ladies out there, you have no idea what romance is until you hear it in French. NO IDEA whatsoever.

Enjoy the Spring my friends, no matter where you are.

Square One has Snow on It

So I am sitting here in Romans and once again it is snowing. It has been snowing for what feels like weeks. Everyone tells me how uncharacteristic it is for there to be snow here, how exceptional this year is, and how lucky I am. All I can think of is the kind of luck you have when you step in a steaming pile while barefoot. Back in Cali I am getting weather reports of Paradise. It sounds so nice there and I really wish I could feel the sun on my skin.

So I am just planning on backpacking for a few months while the money lasts and then heading home for a few months. I still really want to go to Oz for a few months for their summer, which is October thru January, and am working on that plan. Would like to see all of my cities of interest in Europe before I go back to San Diego to finish out what I hope will be an Indian Summer.

As for my french fluency, yeah I think that it has arrived. I dream in French and can have pretty much any kind of conversation that I want. Whether my grammar is perfect is another story but at least my comprehension is there.

Really excited to see my Grandparents when they come out next month. We are touring the south of France and I suspect that they are going to love it.

Going this weekend to Lyon to go shopping. A little retail therapy is exactly what I need. I dream of the spring shoe line and wearing light dresses.

Square One

Back for the final part of my assistantship. Nice was full of surpises. Like the big surprise that not only do I not have the right to work in France but people really do take that seriously. So I spent much of my time talking up bar owners only to have them laugh at the idea of letting me work under the table. At least I got some free drinks out of the whole deal. Other than that Nice is a beautiful beach town that reminds me a lot of California. Perfect weather, crystal blue beaches, beautiful people and quite a night scene. It snowed the day before I got there for the first time in 20 years. I missed the whole incident and am thankful for it.

So my life is kinda in the air right now. I don't really know what I will be doing exactly in the next few months. Just keeping my mind in a state of 'humble resignation.'

(thanks jimmy from Oz)

Cold and Colder

So the first week of my vacation has been spent battling a mean cold and watching snow fall. As I would sit on my couch and watch the weather I kept my eye on Nice. Everyday that it was snowing here it was sunny and warm in Nice. Well, I thought that the weather would hold, but it has not!!!! A freakin SNOW STORM has moved into Nice and some warmth is headed here to Romans. I couldn't believe it. I could have died!! So know I am packing to head into the freakin snow on the beach to search for a job for 5 days. It couldn't be worse. I am so not prepared for this and was really hoping for some sun during my holiday. Whatever, c'est la vie. Wish me luck in the job search. I will need it.

Who wants Gmail?!?!

Hey, so I have 50 invites to Gmail, the coolest email around. Anyone who wants an account just drop me a line and I will invite you. Because it is still new and invite-only your desired address is probably still available. alexandrashaw@gmail.com

Let the Vacation Begin!!

So today is the last day of classes until March!!! I so love the French school calendar. For the first week of the vacation I will just be hanging out here in Romans and up in the mountainous oasis called Die. Then for the second week I will be heading to Nice for Carnaval and to search for future emloyment. It should be great fun as the weather has recently improved greatly.

And one word on Prince Charles marrying that skank Camila, it's called class buddy, Get Some!

And the sun will shine again

I have found my pace. I am running for the sake of running and I won't stop now. It is so easy to slip into depression around the holidays and for the month of January, but I have overcome. I will not go back to San Diego until I have done everything I can out here. Not until my bank account is empty and I have to place a collect call home to scream for help will I return. Romans is boring but it is where I live for now. Nothing is permanent, I am just a visitor here.

Since when is it okay...

Since when is it okay to ask an American at 9am, pre-coffee, what it felt like to watch 9/11 live? Since when is that acceptable morning conversation?!?! I appreciate the honesty of my students questions, but sometimes I feel like I am an exhibit at the 1890 World Fair. Regard, the strange ways of the Californian Native. Watch how she squirms at the memory of watching people plummet to their firey death. Watch her eyes glaze over as she remembers how everything changed that one day in September.
Sometimes this job is harder than I thought it would be.

She Can Walk!!!

In case anyone had a spy cam on the mountains of Villard de Lans this weekend, the home of the '68 winter olympics, that was me tumbling down the mountain. No that wasn't a snow ball or an avalanche, that was a human girl strapped to skis refining the art of avoiding inevitable death or crippledom. I took a ski lift a solid ten minutes up the mountain and pointed my 'death sticks' down the slope not knowing how to stop or turn. A few times I landed literally upside down on my neck barely avoiding paralysis. I would shake off the daze of a head injury and wiggle my toes, and rejoice in the miracle of bodily motion. Other times I summersalted down the mountainside while a rogue ski would crack me in the leg. I can honestly say that I know how Nancy Kerrigan felt. Why Me!!! All and all it was a cool experience and I impressed everyone at the end of the day by sloshing down the mountain only falling a few times when my left leg couldn't support my body weight any longer. I am covered in deep huge bruises head to toe. From now on I think that I will stick to ocean sports. At least you can get a wicked tan while being pummelled by natural forces.

A little joke for my fellow Americans

Q: How many Bush Administration officials does it take to screw in a light bulb?

A: None. There is nothing wrong with the light bulb; its conditions are improving every day. Any reports of its lack of incandescence are a delusional spin from the liberal media. That light bulb has served honorably, and anything you say undermines the lighting effect. Why do you hate freedom?

Turning a New Leaf

Hello all. I have been slow to write on my blog as not a mucho has been going down, that is until this week. France was gripped by strikes and protests all week long, first the post office, then the trains, and then it was my turn, the teachers. It was great, I didn't have to work on Thursday and just shopped all day in Grenoble. I saw the protest move thru the streets but it was nothing new for a girl who went to UC Santa Cruz. Vive la grève!!
I have come to the decision that life in it's current routine has become mundane and predictable so I am shaking it up. I refuse to hang out with the same old anglophones and have really been making an effort to get in with the Frenchies. Last night it paid off as I attended a party in Romans with kids my age and had a rockin time. We played the drinking game 'quarters' with old francs for most of the night and got totally blind on Martini, Rum, and a variety of other liquor. Being ostricized and hated on by French girls has been a major speed bump on my freeway to friends. I have been talking with a French friend of mine about how to keep the peace with all at a party and her main advice was to talk to all the girls for a solid half an hour before even chatting with a guy about the weather. That way the chicks see that you aren't some dummy who wants to steal their men. Well the tactic worked and now I have the beginnings of a circle of friends. God help me I need them.
With the new year one inevitabely begins to plan upcoming life events. As I mentioned before I am looking for a job on the Riviera for the summer so I am heading down to Nice next month for Carnival and to do some rep work. Rep work meaning showing my face in these bars, batting my baby blues and trying to score some employment. I have faith in my ability to sell a ketchup popsicle to a woman in white gloves.
Other than that I have decided that 2005 will be the year of the endless summer. I would like to move to Brisbane, Australia with an aussie friend of mine in September and stay thru the end of the year. I will probably just get a temp job in some office and play around on the beach on the weekends. If all works out the only seasons that I will be experiencing will be spring and summer for the next 18 months.
So to answer a common question, No I don't have a new boyfriend because I really don't want one. French men aren't all that either. I can't stand being told how beautiful I am for 20 minutes at length from a man in jeans tighter than mine. It is just unnatural and ferrell. People are always trying to hook me up with one of their friends and I date quite often, but I am happily single at the moment.
Going skiing tomorrow. Wish me luck on the slopes as I will need it.

Back in France

I have been back in France for over a week and haven't had much to update on. My weekend in Paris was awesome, but was marred by two little pickpockets that tried to steal my train tickets. My friend Carrie caught them red handed and we managed to get away with all of our stuff intact. Of course they spit in our faces to mark their defeat, which was more disgusting than I would like to remember.

California was so freakin awesome I can't even put it into words. I saw almost everyone that I wanted to see and ate all the Mexican food that I could stand. Not to mention my first cheeseburger in over 10 years from Hodad's in OB. That was amazing.

So now I am back in Romans, finishing out the school year and looking forward to my next adventure. This summer is going to be the beginning of the structureless leg of my trip, only marked by the seasons. So far I know that I want to work with tourists either in Nice or Cannes for the summer and head thru India to Australia for the end of the year. A little bit of an endless summer quest. Brisbane sounds like my kinda place so I look forward to trying my hand there for awhile.

I am pretty relieved that I didn't go to India for Christmas. Even if I was lucky enough not to be at the bottom of a tsunami, getting out of the country would have been a nightmare, not to mention getting back into France. But I guess none of us gets to choose the way we die, just like you can't choose your race or your parents. I just gotta keep on truckin and hope to God that I will make it home again to see my loved ones and eat another awesome cheeseburger.

Carpe Diem

From the City of Lights to the Left Coast

Taking a fast train to Paris tomorrow for a weekend in my favorite city. When I lived in Paris in 2002 I found myself hating it at times. Just like a poor hungry beggar would resent the festive meals seen thru fogged windows, I resented Paris' unattainable entertainment due to my lack of cash. Not that I have much more money now, but spending just 2 days in the City of Lights will be invigorating. I love the abundance of shops, people, activities, and the beauty of the monuments and Christmas decorations. I love using my intimate knowledge of the city to show others around. I look forward to seeing the Eiffel Tower illuminated by Christmas lights and the smell of roasting chestnuts on the street.

Monday I will be taking a direct flight from Charles De Gaulle to LAX. I am not stoked about security or customs, but some evils are necessary. To say that I am excited about being back in Cali is an understatement. It has be miserabley cold here for the past few days (-1° C at the lowest) and I look forward to wearing t-shirts and seeing the sun again. I hope that I have the will power to get back on the plane and return to truly freezing conditions in a town that is about as exciting cold white rice.

Have I mentioned my latest escape plan? Last week I received my long term visa (carte de séjour) that is good thru the end of '05. This is truly a blessing as it gives me the right to work and others only received permission to stay thru July '05. I guess being a sweetheart to the lady at the front desk and always keeping my smile really paid off. Anyway, I will be heading to the French Riviera in April to find a job in a bar or on a tourist sailboat and work thru August or September. All I want to do is lounge on the beach during the day and take money from drunk tourists by night. I am living the life.

If I don't update while I am in the States, I would like to wish everyone a very merry Christmas and a happy and safe New Year.

Burritos and Burgers, here I come!!

You have 7 days...

Birthday Summary:
So the Fete de Lumières was cool and the party I threw Friday night was pretty entertaining too. The fete in Lyon was exactly as I imagined it. Packed with people, lights everywhere, vin chaud (hot wine) for sale on the streets. The birthday party that I threw was pretty cool. We ate lots of cake, watched The Ring, and played hide and go seek in the dark in the highschool. Have I mentioned before that there are no bars or clubs in Romans, thus the cheesy party.

So I am coming home one week from today. I am so freakin excited to get the hell out of Romans for a decent amount of time. Also that fact that I am going to see my nearest and dearest all over Cali just makes me feel like I won the lottery.

This week should fly by. I have been christmas shopping everyday and am about to go out shoppin again right now. I think that I am taking more presents than actual luggage. I am trying to get a case of champagne thru customs, does anyone know anything about this?

More exciting posts to come this week...

Today is my 23rd Birthday!!!

Hello faithful readers and filandering browsers,
Today is my birthday and once again I will be spending it in France. The big 21st was in Paris and now the not-so-big 23rd will be in not-so-big Lyon. There is this huge Fete de Lumières held in Lyon every 8th of December to honor the Virgin Mary's protection of Lyon from the Plague. Of course that now translates into wicked light decorations all over the city and a big party in the street. Heading up there just as soon as I am done with this posting.

So let's talk Christmas vacation...

I have received a few messages from peeps who want to chill while I will be back in Cali for a brief time. If you would like to have lunch or a drink with me, email me. I dont have a cell anymore in the States so I am having to set up meetings before hand.

I might be in Santa Cruz from Dec 26-29 for all you NorCal kids out there. Lucy, Jenny, Katie, Kristina, Becky, looking forward to seeing all of you. Let's Party like it is 1999.

And Grandma, I am very excited to see all of the family for New Years at your house. Save some onion dip for me.

Love-
Lex

Can't keep a secret

Here it is... I am coming home for Christmas!! Dad took pity on my pathetic non-existant Christmas plans and decided to fly me home. I am so excited! Gonna eat mexican food within minutes of getting off the plane and kissing the ground. Life in Romans is all the sudden not so bad. See y'all in a few weeks!!

Just when you thought it was over

Last night I received a phone call that changed my whole outlook on life. I have been in a foul mood all week. My birthday is next Wednesday and that always wears on my spirits. In combination with a lonely holiday season in freezing France, I was starting to get depressed. But then my phone rang while I was paying for some groceries and everything changed. I have been erupting in fits of joyous laughter all day for the knowledge I received has set my spirit free.

Who called me and what did they say? The truth will be revealed in a fortnight.

Prisoner of Tribu Tower

I stood in the hot humid bathroom cranking the handle. My wet hair leaked water onto my shoulders and down to my hands. The door made the same sound everytime I turned the handle, a spring-like noise that failed to release the latch. I was a prisoner in my own bathroom for who knows how long. I put my ear to the door to listen for my roommate walk by.
"Katie!?!? Help me I am stuck inside the bathroom!"
Katie worked the handle from the outside to no avail.
"Stand back!"
Katie threw her whole body into the door. A faint squeal of pain marked her failure to penetrate my cell. The water molecules in the air were cooling. It was starting to remind me of my trip to the jungles of Belize.
While Katie went to go call for help I looked into the foggy mirror. Make-up had dripped under my eyes and I looked like a drowned racoon. My hair was starting to curl and I was still wrapped in my damp towel.
"The caretaker and some technicians are coming."
Oh god. The thought of the caretaker seeing me in a towel lead me to quickly change back into the dirty jeans and t-shirt from earlier that day.
Some minutes later, the three french men stood outside the door and contemplated my liberation for quite some time. I sat on the dirty floor covered in hair and thought about how badly we need to mop. After at least ten minutes I moved back into the bathtub.
"They have gone to get a saw, hold tight."
I sat in the bathtub and smelled all of our beauty products. I didn't realize how good my roommates shampoo smelled. I must go buy some of my own.
Minute 40 passed in the bathtub and all I could think about my copy of the Da Vinci Code sitting outside the door. Oh why couldn't I have brought it into the bathroom with me. Why couldn't I be reading about Opes Dei instead of Sodium Lauryl Sulfate. What did I do to be smote like this!!!
As I smelled my conditioner by sqeezing the bottle a little squirted on my nose. At that very instant three french men with a saw and a drill burst through the door, to find me sitting in the empty bathtub with dark circles under my eyes, wet matted hair, wearing a dirty shirt, and conditioner dripping from my nose.
One never leaves prison with much digninty.

Run Shaw Run Goes Random

So just wanna mention that people I do not even know are commenting on my site, meaning that random people read my daily thoughts. That is weird but cool. Run Shaw Run has gone random!

Thanksgiving French Style

Well that is kinda a contradiction of terms. The french don't celebrate Thanksgiving, let alone know what the heck it is. So yesterday my homey Matt for Barcelona showed up in Romans to celebrate the day with me. We ate turkey sandwiches and called it a night. I was lucky enough to receive a phone call from my mother's party at 10:30pm just as I was going to sleep, and then another call from my dad's side at 1:30am just as I was sleeping. Has anyone ever heard of a time change? How about 8am class? I was really tired this morning but was happy to hear from everyone.

Okay gotta go teach my little beasts cuss words. This week's lessons have been on Sublime, the LA riots of 92, and still some Simpsons.

Takin a piss

So the whole "Together we can go farther. Together we can stay gone forever. " was a bit sarcasm people. I was making fun of myself... hello?! Haven't you ever heard of self-deprication? Please no more e-cards of flying birds or sunsets.

Anyway, went paragliding again this weekend in Grenoble. It was so beautiful in the valley with snow-topped mountains towering in the back. The car ride up the mountain always makes me a little sick. My second time running off the cliff was surprisingly mellow. I wasn't questioning the proximity of my death nearly as much and enjoyed my flight. The only thing cooler than paragliding would be if actuall feathery wings sprouted out of my back and they served as my transportation.

Got the pleasure of experiencing a bit of the french medical establishment at it's finest today. Had to do a "routine" medical exam for my long stay visa. I was made to get a chest x-ray in the boonies of the boonies administered by some pervo 5'4" tall, white chest hair bearing, crucifix sporting, french sleeze bag radiologist. Quelle chance pour moi. He must really love his job. He gets to ask 50 foreign college-aged girls to disrobe for a useless Tuberculosis screening x-ray everyday. Who said being a civil servant is boring work.

The whole exeperience was horrifying from the ride on a bus full of ill freaks, to the shanty medical offices surrounded by cornfields. Although my favorite bit were the painful shreiks of terror and pain coming down the hall on my way out. It is the sound I had been feeling all day.

Still don't know what I am doing for the holidays. Must look into some package deals or something.

Another one bites the dust

We have had our first program drop-out... my homegirl Julianna from North Carolina. Her schools were treating her like crap and she just couldn't take it any more. Today is a perfect day to quit as it is raining and only 4°C. I am so jealous that she is gonna be home for the holidays. If I could see my family for thanksgiving and xmas I would leave too, but I must stay. Someone has to report from the other side.

Dirty is a Smell

From a train somewhere is Spain after 3 days in Barcelona:

The life of the traveler has taken hold. My pants are a size too big with holes. My hair is slightly dreaded and covered by the hood of my sweater. My blue eyes peer confidently from dark circles and a smirk hangs on my face. I have worn the same socks for three days. The traveler is not interested in appearance, only experience. Feminine clothes and high heels do not serve one on a five hour walk, so one no longer possess either. Clothes are functional now, not for show. I attract others like me. Since I travel alone I meet mostly other American men. I prefer the men I meet traveling to those I meet in bars when I am wearing lip gloss and smelling of Lolita Lempicka. They see me as for who I am, not what I look like. When travelers seduce each other there is a complete acceptance of the others shortcomings without judgement. You have ketchup on your thigh and my shirt has 3 holes, wanna make out? Normal people wish they could live like this.
The travelers code: 1) Dirty is a smell. 2) The grocery store is your friend. 3) Bring earplugs.

I would like to state a major difference between normal people, those who work jobs and 5 year plans, and the traveler. While I was working in Corporate America after graduating uni I would tell people I was working only to save money and go travel. This was regarded as something exotic, almost bizarre. Six months working for six months travel, and never any more power or responsibility than you could leave in a heart beat. While the normalite is worrying about a Power Point presentation, the traveler in the bar of a hostel in any given European city is scheming with other lost souls as to the quickest way to turn a buck and get back out on the road. My desire to extend my stay for as long as possible is only encouraged by those around me.

Barcelona

My trip to Barcelona rocked so hard that I have been recovering for two days. I cancelled my Tuesday classes and took off for Spain on Saturday. On the train from Montpellier to Barcelona I encountered my first truly UGLY AMERICAN since I have been back to Europe. His name was Randy and he was from California. He proceeded to question every North American looking person on the train as to their origin and formed a little American clique that I hate to say I was a part of for a brief time. Randy (what an awful name) only knew how to use a drunk ‘outside’ voice and proceeded to insult French culture for three hours at top volume. As he would (very loudly) as my opinion on this or that I could only reply in a proper ‘indoor’ voice and hope to god the train would go faster. When we arrived in Barcelona Randy screamingly demanded the origin of some Americans in the metro in front of a platform full of Spaniards. To the reply that they were Alaskan he hollered “That is almost American.” I hoped for one of them to push him on the tracks.

The two other cool American dudes and I agreed to ditch the UGAM, as we called him from then on, and head out on our own. We got into our hostels at midnight and headed to the nearest pizza joint for a slice and a European-style 40 oz. bottle of beer. I was in heaven. The three of us proceeded to party hard till 5 o’clock in the morning. We mostly drank at the hostel as beers were only 2.50 euro for a liter. We skipped around to other bars in the area but ended up on the internet at like 4 in the morning drunk emailing... never a good idea.

Sunday we headed up to check out Gaudi’s Sagrada Familia, a massive church in the middle of the city. We climbed the towers and tripped out on all the cool architecture. They have been building his original plan for over a hundred years and still aren’t finished. The church mixes like 10 different kinds of architecture and uses methods of measurement that Guadi invented. That guy had serious inspiration.
After some time we headed up to Park Guell and looked at Gaudi’s house, his mosaic lizards, and rock sculptures. There is a great view of Barcelona and the ocean from up there. Sunday night we proceeded to get wasted yet again in the hostel. I met a bunch of cool travelers from all over the world and played cards and pool. This was much more interesting than going to some loud dance club, especially since I was looking more like a tomboy than a pretty girl. I got so drunk at one point that I refused to speak English and the only people who could understand my French were the Belgians. To my delight they said I spoke the best french they ever heard an American speak. Oh la la.

Monday we rented sweet-ass Schwinn beach cruisers and rode around Barcelona a few hours. We rode along the beach and around the ports, around some parks and back up to Las Ramblas. The water was so blue it reminded me of home. I wanted to strip off my clothes and run into the water, but it was only 13 degrees Celcius.

What do you think we did Monday night? That’s right, got totally wasted in the hostel bar. After all that cultural crap one must conserve funds. I woke up in at 7am and had to go back to my room, get my bag, and head to the station for my 8:45 train. I forgot my freakin towel.

So all and all Barcelona was superb. It was great to be around travelers and people who are open to meet people. I traveled alone, but wasn’t by myself for long. I never felt threatened and was always laughin. My homey Matt from Seattle walked me back and forth to my hostel so many times I gotta just say thanks dude.

Gotta stay local for the next few weekends. Next month I have to entertain myself for two weeks over Christmas and New Years. Might go to Nice with some Aussie chicks for New Years. That would ROCK!

Shout out to Jimmy from OZ... you rock!

Send me emails, I miss having a full inbox: alexandrashaw@gmail.com

Warm up

I am heading to the train station to go to Grenoble for a couscous dinner with some Frenchies in about 20 mins. I finally stopped being a vegetarian (gasp!) after ten years. I am just doing it here in France as the food is incredible.
I must update you on the French method of seduction when I return. It is comical and utterly baffling to say the least.
Saturday I am heading down to Barcelona solo-stylee. Staying thru Monday. Barcalona is gonna be amazing I am sure... hopefully I will pick up some more Spanish. I am really looking forward to some warmer weather and warming up for by break next month, when I will be a solo soldier again.
Still working on what I am gonna do for Christmas and New Years. Dont mind if I dont spend the holidays with my current friends, just as long as I am around party people in a party place. And did I mention warm?
I have been teaching the Simpsons this week using a comic book I have. It freakin rocks!! I never thought I would get paid to talk about Barney getting drunk at Moe's Tavern. Viva La France!

Return from the Other Side

Just got back from Strasbourg, where I spent a good part of my Toussaint holiday. On the train to Strasbourg with one hour to go a black man wearing Ku Klux Klan regalia boarded and sat two rows ahead of me. The face masked was pushed up over his forehead to reveal his dark eyes floating on his African face as if they worked independently of each other. A few seconds after taking his seat I began to hear the strangest noise coming from his quarter, what sounded like a pneumonia cough. I thought this self-hating individual was nearly drowning in phlegm when I looked at the horror on the French woman’s face seated across the isle from me. In that brief moment I perceived that this very black man in a white costume with a pointy white cap was spewing his cheap beer into a flimsy plastic sack as if he were casually reading the paper with a train full of disgusted travelers looking on. I am not ashamed to say the I was the second person to leave that car, right on the heels of a very green-looking French woman.
Jenny and I originally planned to go to Barcelona, but when her train ticket hadn’t arrived by the time we wanted to leave I just went up to her place and we made our way to Amsterdam for the weekend. To say it was awesome was an understatement. Friday night when we arrived we found the first smoke shop, happened to be The Rokery. We then proceeded to walk around the city and get lost for awhile until we went to our crappy hotel/hostel and dropped our backpacks off. Then we wondered to some more coffeeshops and proceeded to get the full effect of Amsterdam. We found our way back to our hotel by midnight and slept well, even tho one of our rooms mates was an Italian with a gas problem.

I should address the issue of drug use and Amsterdam for all of you judging me as a foolish girl who needs psychedelic assistance to see the beauty in the day. Pot is legal there and is smoke freely but responsibly by the Dutch. I don’t think it is for everyone, and I can surely enjoy the color of the sunset without it. You cannot judge it from abroad, but if you saw Amsterdam in action you would see that the legalization of drugs actually saves peoples lives.

Anyway back to Amsterdam, on Saturday Jenny and I were up and early to go get a bagel and rent a couple of bikes from a great place called Frederic’s by the train station. With wheels we were mobile in the most ideal sense possible in Amsterdam. Since the city is flat, the preferred method of transport by the locals is bicycle and the city accommodates this lifestyle like a mother accommodates the hunger of her children. Cars and bikes hold an equal footing in street politics and the roads are constructed to reflect this with huge bikes lane protected by raised curbs. Bikes give way to cars, people give way to bikes, and everyone gives way to trams. That being said, life on a bike in Amsterdam is so pleasant that if I should ever live there I will never dream of purchasing a gas-guzzler. We decided earlier in the day that we were going go to the Van Gogh museum. So went to the Ryks museum and then like the true dumbasses we are we went riding off a couple blocks south to try to find the Van Gogh museum. By the time we made it back to the green field we rode across we realized we actually drank a cup of tea in the shadow of the museum an hour earlier. We left the museum after looking at many swirling paintings and somehow completely missing Starry Night. The next hour we spent watching a hot air balloon in the shape of Vincent Van Gogh’s head be blown up in front of the museum. I joked that I would have never became lost and left the museum pavilion if they had decided to schedule the little show two hours before. What we decided to do next will be my fondest memory of Amsterdam for many years to come.

We went behind the museum, unlocked our bikes, and decided to take them to Vondel Park. Upon entering the park I saw the most beautiful autumn colors I have ever seen in my whole life splashed upon the canvas that was the landscape. Every turn held a new body of water, a new flock of birds, a new weeping willow grazing the surface of the water, a new scenario for my mind to grasp and let go. Fresh crisp air filled my lungs as my cheeks blushed from the cold. Jenny and I rode around that park for hours and hours laughing and watching the scenes roll by. At sunset we jumped off our bikes and watched the sun go to bed as it lit the sky a color pink that was once reserved for the flamingo. Then we hopped on our rusty steeds for another hour and a half of soaking in all the colors and scenes of the park until the chilly weather forced us to seek shelter. I cannot explain the way I felt watching a beautiful stretch of path laid out before me with the limbs of tall trees kissing overhead as autumn leaves dropped like tears. Oranges, reds, and yellows all spotted with brown reminded me of the Autumn I had always heard about in California but never experienced. I saw my life as perfect. Perfect for the ability of my body to ride this wonderful bike. The perfection of my eyesight. The perfection of a moment that so many people will never share. I felt truly blessed to be alive and in a position to see my good fortune.

Jenny and I had dinner in an Italian joint after the park. We road around for awhile longer, but by that time my narrow skinny ass had had enough of the bike seat and we headed back to the hostel. Sunday morning we woke up, ate some yummy falafel, and grabbed the train back to Strasbourg. What a great break.

For Christmas I do believe that I am going to Goa, India for a little beach and a little party!!!

Is This Really My Vacation?

Since I am waiting on Jenny to get her ticket in the mail I have just been sitting on my dead ass in Romans... Which is even deader. Today I bought some new Pumas, which were exhortbantly expensive after the goddamn exchange rate. It was a necessary evil tho considering the only other shoes I brought to France were Elvis Blue running shoes.
So what shall I do for this break.... hmmmm. The first plan was to go to Barcelona, but as more time passes by I just feel like heading up to Amsterdam. After a few days there I am sure that I will be sufficiently partied out.
France is starting to grow on me. On Saturday I went paragliding outside of Grenoble with a friend. I was so cool to just take off running and jump off a cliff with a kite overhead. We sailed around the valley for about 5 minutes passing waterfalls, trees, and rock faces. After a few minutes I asked him if he could do any tricks and he proceeded to make us plummet toward the earth at an alarming rate all the while spinning dangerously out of control. As my eyes poured tears and my voice cracked with gleeful screams I felt my life reach a pinnacle. Every breath I took meant more than the one before. I was truly alive. After my feet touched the ground and I could feel the normalcy of my life even out again. I do not and will not ever fear death. If risky stunts like that propel one towards greater appreciation of life, I say go for it.
The job is going well, even tho I have yet to be paid and am growing more broke by the day. I should create some sort of charity tip jar on this sight or something. The good thing about being broke is that I have already lost 7 lbs and counting. I eat a croissant or the equivalent everyday, but I think the big diff is that the food here has zero preservatives and I walk all the time.
I guess I should go. Gonna go take a walk in my new million dollar kicks and seek a bottle of booze to soothe my Monday night boredom.
With love and peace,
Alexandra

Freaking Cold

So I heard about the slaughter of 50 percent of the workforce at Maxim. That sucks dudes, but it shouldnt be that bad. At least there is a severence package. Who needs em anyway, go find a job at a company with a drug that actually works.

As for me and mine, I am freezing my fingers off here in France. The cold is here and it is only gonna get colder. It rains almost everyday, but that doesnt stop me from going out and running or rowing on the river. My roomie Katie and I have become little workout goddesses. I figure that I am 22 and this is as good as it is gonna get.

The students have almost made me homocidal. I freakin hate teenagers and highschool. The teachers run between cool and shit and can make my life hell if they want to. I currently have no voice to scream at the little beasts anymore cuz I have been working on pronunciation. It is really amusing to scream Think... Sink over and over until you dont know how to say it yourself... A real freakin riot.

Luckily for me I am getting my first week of paid vacay starting on Friday!!! Gotta love the French welfare state. My girl Jenny and I are gonna go to Barcelona to cause some trouble. I dont speak Espanol anymore so I hope to make it out alive and kickin ass.

Last weekend I went up to Grenoble for yet another party with the Frenchies. I have been meeting such cool peeps since I have been out here. I guess my crap American accent is perceived to be sexy so dudes are super interested in my deal. The shame is that they all try to speak English with me in these terrible accents that remind me of my students. Sweet french nothings= sexy... Broken ass English= gross.

Going back to the Alps this weekend for a rock concert. I have no idea who these band are, I am just looking forward to the social interaction en Francais.

Feel free to comment on my blog. I love reading what peeps have to say.

Until next time.

Who were you? Of Money and Passion

Some of the most challenging questions I get are about my past life. When my students cannot get a feel for who I am they revert back to the question- What do you do for a job?
I reply that I do this for a job right now and before I worked at a pharmaceutical company, but my education is in politics. Bewildered and exhausted they turn their eyes to the window or the floor, whichever is the farthest from my gaze.
It seems to me that who I supposedly was has nothing to do with who I really am. I have no desire to define myself by my means of allocating money. I have passions that have no marketable value. So here I am, working by day to support my passions by night, and in my opinion this is ideal.
On a train from Munich to Paris I sat and spoke with an older man named Gideon for many hours. He was originally from the Bronx but relocated to Germany years ago to work in film. His passion is photgraphy and his advice was this: Do not make your passion your job, because after a few years you will become bored with your job thus negating your passion. My girlfriends found this to be pessimistic but I understood him completely. No matter how cush the job, I will always hate it. The first day I show I up try to figure out how to work the least amount and maintain a good repution. The difference between me and other people is that I admit this from the get-go and never try to manipulate this means of a paycheck into my passion. They will always remain seperate for the sanctity of my personality and that which drives me.

Ambassador

After class, after parties, after lunch it is always the same response... you are not like other Americans. What is it that leads these new people that I meet to say this?

Went to a party Friday night in Grenoble. I was introduced to all of these different people, all french people, and as soon as they heard my accent they asked if I was English. No, from California. “Oh from California, c’est super!” But after a few exchanges the topic of politics always came up and I was left to amend the image of my country. After a few days of thought this has what I have come to realize. America is not seen the same in the hearts and minds of the American people as it is exported through the media and the news. This change of hand of the American image leaves the Americans themselves at a disadvantage when they are traveling abroad. The Europeans have the audiovisual proof to defend their conception of America as a fat, gun-slinging, petroleum-based, consumer, capitalist, and overall evil empire. When one finds themselves at this starting point in a conversation, one immediately knows that there is a lot of work to be done.

At the party I told a French girl that if I became the President the first thing I would do is walk into a homeless shelter and bring some families to the White House to do their laundry and have a nice meal. Nothing very fancy, just food that they wanted eat, prepared by caring hands and delivered during relevant conversations. No media, no scripts or sound bites, just conversation without worrying about the safety of their children for one day. It will take many years to give the people a functioning welfare state without crippling the economy, but a plate of food and some clean clothes can be made in an hour and a half.

The look of awe painted her face and as she could not believe what she was hearing. I did not defend every point, I just told her what I believed from my heart and that said it all. She then turned to another french man and told him what I said. He told me that it was impossible. He introduced himself as Smile and a great debate about the merits of capitalism commenced.

Today, Monday, I received a phone call from Smile to go out to lunch and talk. Turns out he is a professor of economy at a highschool in Grenoble and ten years my elder. We spoke about the differences between American and French culture for many hours and I once again was told that I was not like other Americans. I asked Smile if he had ever been to the States before and he told me that he never wanted to step foot there, because they just want to take his money. I couldn’t help but laugh. I asked him how he knew this to be true and he once again pointed to TV and movies.

Unfortunately this is not uncommon. In fact, every time I have asked one of my classes if they had ever met an American before only 3 out of 10 replied yes. The fact that people have not ever met an American before does not deny them opinions about Americans. The daily news bolsters an image of a spreading American empire on the search for oil. Movies by Michael Moore are treated like scripture and are used as test material in English class. The movie Super Sized Me has been quoted in my presence at least 5 times. Our mainstream media spreads the poison and our counter-culture media gives this audiovisual proof to those who love to hate America. I don’t know what to say any more other than that there are many others like me.

In my brief stay here in France I have become a petite Ambassador for the United States. So far at least 4 people have told me that they hated Americans before they met me and now they open to the idea that Americans are good people. My fellow Americans, I am reporting from the front lines and I must say this is a ticking time bomb. We all must work together to mend this broken image of our beautiful country as we are losing friends by the day. Maybe that doesn’t matter to anyone at home, but for an American abroad my life has never been tougher.

Until next time.

Autumn starts with a bang

There is a real honest to goodness storm going on right now. I haven’t seen anything like this in years. For the past couple of days there has been wind so strong in could knock you over. Then today it was calm with heavy clouds in the sky. My roomie Katie and I were walking to the store today to get booze and food when the bone in my hand that was broken in Mexico a few years ago started to ache. We had the other assistants over for drinks at Café Chaud, the name we have given the terrace outside of my room. We spoke in English and French about our lives at home and what there is to do around Romans, not a goddamn thing. After dusting 5 bottles of wine we came inside to eat when we heard the pitter patter on the window. It was almost cute the way is sounded so gentle and inviting. A couple of the girls had to walk home as it was getting late, so I lent one of the my umbrella even though she said that she didn’t need it. About fifteen minutes later I saw a lightening outside my window, and for the last hour there has been the most incredible crashes and flashes lighting up the sky. Now it is raining cats and dogs. We had to walk Antonio, the Spanish assistant, back to his flat on the other side of the school in the dark all alone. Talk about scary movie material, I almost pissed myself when I caught my own reflection in flash of lightening. The school is so old and huge that it seems like it has a life of it’s own. I dare not to walk down the halls by myself at night for fear of having a paranoia induced heart attack.

So when I become the President of the USA or the Governor of Cali, the first thing I am going to do is invite homeless families for dinner at the White house, or the Governors house. And no press allowed cuz I hate that publicity driven crap. I would do it to show the people that I stand shoulder to shoulder with them, whether they have money or not. Wouldn’t that be great to see a bunch of homeless people doing laundry at the White house and having a cheese sandwich with the Prez. God, I am going to be a cool president. And I am going to do a whole lot more stuff in the Rose Garden. It is too pretty to be ignored.

Gonna lay here and watch the storm for a little while longer. I am just loving real weather.

Vote Shaw in 2030

Another day in Romans

So this is really annoying. I keep typing as if I was on a French keyboard while I am typing on my laptop. Just when you get used to one thing it changes right back.
I should really go to sleep considering I am teaching in seven hours. This gig really takes a lot out of me. The first class that I taught had nearly 20 students in it and only about 5 of them spoke. The others just chatted when my back was turned or stared off into space. I honestly understood their frustration considering I dropped out of highschool at 16. That is so crazy for me to be teaching these kids who are the same age I as was when I started college, they look so young. I guess I finally understand why I got such strange looks in my classes. The other classes were better because I demanded that I only take five students at a time. I taught them about the presidential elections and stereotypes. They seemed to get a kick out of telling me that Americans are McDonald’s eating, Coke swilling fatties. Gotta love Frenchies.
After class ended at 5 I when to the market to buy some food for dinner and mellowed out in my room for about an hour. Then at 7pm I when over to a British woman’s house in the suburbs (if there is even an urban place to be ‘subbed’). There were 5 English assistants and two British women for dinner and drinks. This one woman Veronique is awesome. She is French but was married to an English dude so she speaks the bomb English. She was so funny cuz she had drama with another English teacher there and was all to happy to share the gossip after the other left. Some habits are universal, and the cattiness of women cannot be denied no matter what side of the pond you live on.
The weather in Romans is changing. The wind is blowing and with a crazy force and I can tell it is going to get cold soon. Once the weather changes I am sure that I will be holed up in my apartment swilling booze writing the next great American novel. How Hemingway of me.
Gonna go now. Thank you everyone for writing me kind notes and keeping me posted on the gossip back in the states. Just because I am gone for now doesn’t mean that I am not interested in the sordid details.
And Maximites, good luck with the cuts if there are any. If any of you want to escape the states and come here to France I now a great little town that shuts down at 7 and doesn’t have any bars.

With a little help from my friends

Hey yall. Just want to quickly let you know that I am feeling better. I got my blog to update, so expect more entries with great stories.
Taught my first class an hour ago. The kids wanted to know about Bush and America. I was pleased to talk about anything, just as long as they didnt sit there like lumps on a log. I got my first experience disciplining a kid. He just kept on talking so I walked up to him and said :Are you planning on talking for the whole class cuz I can plan around it: Then made the universal cut it out sign, which I think he mistook for :I am going to kill you: Whatever works, right?
Gotta go prepare for another class of sixteen year olds... God help me.

Here, in the Clear, in need of some Cheer

How frustrating...I am on a french keyboard, and like everything else here it is just slightly different. I am in Romans-sur-Isère at my school finally. I live on campus in a furnished apartment with an Italian girl and an English girl. They are both pretty cool. The apartment itself is awesome, my room has a terrace that is at least 30ft by 30ft! My room faces north so I get tons of sun which is both a blessing and a curse. And get this, it is just 30€ a month!
Paris was great. I saw a lot of the Frenchies that I knew when I lived there before. I went to a bunch of museums that I was too lazy to visit last time and ate a lot of bread and cheese. We went dancing till 4am one night, but for the most part just chilled.
After a week in the city of light I went to Grenoble for orientation. We went to a small village in the Alps called Autrans where the winter olympics in 1968 where held. It would have been better to call it summer camp as there were 80 kids doing the hey-how-are-ya bit and sleeping in bunk beds. I find this kind of interaction to be exhausting, especially after two weeks on the road. I met some cool Aussies and Brits and cliqued up with other girls in Romans.
So here I am and it is finally setting in. I miss my family, I miss my friends, I miss the beach, and I miss being local. My french sucks compared to others assistants. I am trying to keep my chin up and live this experience in the now but it is hard. The nights are the hardest, when I lay awake thinking about the ocean lapping at the shore or the sun on my face. I miss being loved by those around me. I have no idea what I am going to do after this is all over in April. I could nearly have a panic attack just thinking about that.
So this weekend I am going to go to the South of France and try to find a beach to swim at. I hope this will put a bandaid on my home sickness.
Please email me at alexandrashaw@gmail.com. I need to hear friendly words as I cut my way thru this jungle.