Four More Sleeps

There are many reasons why I miss Erik, but sometimes conversations couples have are so telling of who they are and why they get along. Exchanges like these are what I miss and why I can't wait to get home:

Erik -“Soon enough it will be time for you to start popping out babies”
Me - “It’s a vagina not a gumball machine”
Erik - “Are you saying you cost more than a quarter?”

That, my friends, is a conversation between two people madly in love.

Sunday, 4pm PST cannot come soon enough.

Honorable Mentions

For all the new Californians who are moving to Lyon in August and for anyone traveling or moving to Lyon, here are some places I never wrote up but that without a doubt deserve an honorable mention in my book for places to eat and drink:

Bistro des Arts – just near Bellecour, it’s an adorable little bistro that serves no frills French fare and its delicious and completely affordable, especially if you go for lunch and order the plat du jour. I’ve only been there two times which is likely why I never wrote an officially blog about it, but every time I went I vowed to go back. And now I can’t, so please go in my place.

Café 203 on the presqu’ile – good coffee, friendly staff, and they pour heavy with their hot alcoholic drinks, which in winter in Lyon is golden.

Café de la Ficelle – sometimes overcrowded with tourists (yes, I can say that) but they make a mean cappuccino and they’re syrup to lemonade ratio with their diabolos is the best I’ve experienced here in Lyon. It’s the little things people!

Café Milano on the presqu’ile – I believe this may be a chain but regardless their Italian cuisine is simple and tasty and the staff and atmosphere make it an enjoyable night out if you want the comforts of home cooking without having to stay cooped up inside your house. They also have an aperitif that I loved, the name of which escapes me at the moment, but if it sounds something like the Coup Milano (I think that’s it) and it involves champagne and a strawberry garnish you should order it and toast to me.

Matsuri – decent sushi and incredibly friendly staff. It can never and will never be California quality sushi, and it is without a doubt overpriced, but if you have a craving for sushi that needs to be fixed, Matsuri is your best bet.

Namdo in Vieux Lyon (Rue des Trois Maries) – Amazing Vietnamese place that deserves its own blog to be perfectly honest. Their nems (egg rolls) are mouth watering, their sautéed noodles are indulgent without being too greasy, and the staff is the sweetest you’ll find in Lyon. If you want honest to God Vietnamese food in Lyon which is normally incredibly hard to find – go here. You will not be disappointed.

Paddy’s Corner in Croix Rousse – great little local pub discovered by a very good friend of mine here in Lyon. The staff is great, the atmosphere is relaxed, and they make a chocolate, bailey’s, magical drink that tastes like the best hug you’ve ever gotten. So good and a must if you’re staying in Lyon and looking for a favorite local pub.

There are many, many more that I am sure I am forgetting but between these recommendations and those already written up on the blog, I’d say anyone traveling to Lyon is off to a good start! So enjoy, drink up, and for god’s sake enjoy the food! Lyon isn’t the capital of French gastronomy for nothing.

Where to Begin...

So I have been noticeably absent from the blogging world for a few weeks. I’d like to say I have some amazing excuse. Some deep, intense experience that made me cut myself off from modern technology only to connect with my inner being for ultimate peace and harmony. But really, when you couple laziness with vacation you get no blog.

Such is life. But here’s the latest update if you’re interested…

I am leaving Lyon in 5 days. That’s right. Five. My initial plans to go to Italy for my friend’s wedding hit a snag when my sister got a job in Marrakech and needed to push her wedding up to the day before the wedding in Italy. And when push comes to shove, if I’m going to a wedding this summer it’s going to be my sister’s, for obvious reasons. So instead of heading home at the end of July I will now be home at the beginning reuniting with old friends and most importantly seeing Erik after a painful four months of separation.

While I’m thrilled to be going home to Erik and friends I’ve missed more than I know how to put into words, I am having a hard time leaving a life and people I have fallen very much in love with. I am not the type of person that makes a lot of friends. I am judgmental, sarcastic, and at times mean which might suggest why my handful of friends is just that, a handful. But the reality is that I take my friendships seriously and I expect a lot out of people, but only because I give that much back. Perhaps it’s a result of my very specific life experiences, perhaps it’s just a personal preference in regards to how I like to live my life, but I do not make an effort to get to know you or make you a part of my life if I don’t consider you to be an incredibly special human being. And to have found amazing people here in France and have to leave them so soon breaks my heart. A year is not nearly enough time, but at the very least, its all the more motivation to come back as soon as time and money will let me.

On that note, it has become even clearer to me this year that Europe is where my heart is. While I don’t think I could ever live in France full time I can’t conceive of not being able to visit whenever I want. Some may think that’s a frivolous dream, I think it’s just a matter of adjusting my life to make that a reality. So with that in mind, London is now a serious contender for the 2010 move. Time will tell of course but if Erik and I can make it work we’ll be calling London home by this time next year. If NYC is meant to be then such is life, and we will end up there as originally intended, but for now the goal is London. But what’s that saying? If you want to make God laugh tell him your plans…so we’ll see. There may be something in store for us we can’t anticipate, but until that becomes clear we’ll entertain the man upstairs with our ridiculous intention of moving to another country….AGAIN.

Never a dull moment.

Regardless of the sadness that has surrounded these last few weeks it’s been nothing short of amazing – time in Provence with my mom, time in Grenoble with friends, and the next couple of days saying goodbye to Lyon.

So forgive me if the blogging suffers over the next month. There’s a lot to do before I leave, a serious lack of internet upon my return to the States, and a probably unhealthy amount of time with my IPod sitting by the Bay daydreaming about what’s to come. This next year should be interesting and I intend to keep ranting and raving about observations, conversations, crazy bitches, and cultural differences. But for now, have patience and I promise I’ll make it worth your while.

Pale and Proud

Oh you French people, you cancer craving French sons of bitches. Today, I hate you.

So, this afternoon my friend Kelsey and I planned a trip to the public pool for a little relaxation and water play. Typical summer afternoon fare the world over, right?

One would think so…if I ever made it out to the pool.

Apparently, here in France, or shall I say here in Lyon, in order to get to the pool you’re only allowed to wear a swimsuit. That’s it, nothing else. Cover a little tit, cover a little ass, the rest is for everyone to enjoy, including the hot, unapologetic cancer wielding sun.

To be fair, given that you’re going to the pool, it does seem quite logical to only need your swimsuit. But for those of us not in search of a tan, and specifically for those of us deathly afraid of being anywhere near close to naked in the sun, we require a little bit of cover up. But as I came to find out today, that is very much not allowed.

I was willing to give up the zip up sweater. Fine. Probably too intense a precaution and seemingly more illogical than their stupid rule. But when I was told I couldn’t even wear my tank top dress – something that would be considered a basic beach cover up anywhere in the States – I was dumbstruck.

Swimsuit only on the pool deck. No exceptions.

I tried to explain that this was not possible. I’m pale, I burn. And when I say burn, I mean I BUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRNNNNNNN. No Joke. It’s ugly. There are blisters for weeks, peeling for months, and at the end of it, I go back to the same shade of pale I started as and inevitably just become a more bitter pissed off version of myself. And as we well know, I am bitter and pissed off already. Do we really need to take it up a notch?

I don’t think so either.

And what pray tell do they think you’re going to do with your extra layer of clothing out there on their precious pool deck? They’ll let kids do back flips off the sides of the pools, their lifeguards spend more time gossiping in the corner than doing their actual job, and they’ll let you run a marathon over the slippery wet surface but GOD FORBID you wear more than dental floss while out there to protect yourself from skin cancer.

That’s just silly.

In the end, I refused to go out there without something to wear besides my bikini and left without ever stepping foot past their swimsuit Nazi onto the pool deck. I paid 3 euro to see the inside of a locker room and walk home. Was there shade on the pool deck? A little, sure. But for those of us who have lived a life in the pale pool we all know that our cover ups are our security blankets. You can’t make me go out there without it. I won’t do it.

Call me Linus. I’ll own it with pride.

So to the citizens of France I applaud you for being fearless, for looking directly into the eyes of the sun and truly believing you’re the one in control. And in 30 years when I’m sitting on my private pool deck sipping a cocktail in my precious security blanket I will toast to you, the citizens of France, lying in your hospital beds, dying of skin cancer, and I will laugh.

I hope it was worth it.

La Vie en….Construction

Living as a student you tend to live in a state of constant adjustment. Money is always a factor and while you’d rather be comfortable, sometimes you figure “it’s not that bad”. Life is still good damnit and you can adjust - stay positive and get creative.

For instance, because I don’t have curtains on my windows, when it gets really sunny in the mornings here in Lyon it wakes me up. I wake up hot and slightly cranky from not enough sleep and curse mother nature in both languages for making it such a god damn beautiful day. But after many weeks I finally learned that if I just grab my pillow and move to the foot of the bed and lie horizontally I can go back to sleep. Adjustment made, crisis averted, sleep procured. Beautiful warm Lyonnais days eventually (vers noon) enjoyed.

That’s the life of a student. Normal people would go out and buy curtains, hang them up, and not think twice. A student will get pissed off, pout, and finally shrug their shoulders and adjust.

Lately, however, this has been harder to do, namely because as it turns out I seem to now be living in a construction zone. So now, not only am I woken up by the blaring sun but instead I also have the sounds of drilling and falling debris echoing through my walls. If I were more motivated I would hike up the extra flight of stairs and ask the men up there what in God’s name they think they’re doing at 9am but given that French people do not do any work unless specifically instructed and paid to do so, I have a feeling no amount of information I could get would make it better or make it stop.

To be honest, the actual construction happening is not what’s bothering me so much as the fear that all that debris (read really fucking old large stones) is going to fall through my ceiling at any moment. Every five minutes it sounds like someone is just dumping a bag of large rocks onto my ceiling and hoping that no damage is done. Meanwhile I, no longer able to sleep, am instead lying at the foot of my bed out of the sunlight staring up at the ceiling praying I don’t meet death by falling rocks before my departure back to the States.

I’m sure its fine. I’m sure they know what they’re doing, but that does not make it any easier on the senses. I keep flinching from the noise of potential death looming over my head. And if I manage to forget that a large rock falling through my ceiling could kill me, I still vainly can’t forget that all that flinching likely causes wrinkles. I can’t come back from France looking worse for the wear. That is just unacceptable.

But c’est la vie. Ma vie…en construction.

My only real worry is for my mother’s visit. She’ll be here in a week and between the bed that will hurt her back, the sun at 8am that could give you a sunburn in your sleep, and now the apparent demolition happening upstairs, her relaxing French vacation is slipping further and further away if she stays chez moi. I’m praying that at the very least the construction is over by the time she gets here. If not don’t be surprised to see us, blanket and pillows in hand, trekking over to Parc de la Tête d’Or for some peaceful sleep under a tree.

Life could be worse I suppose. At least I have a roof over my head…for now.

Country Living

This weekend Meredith and I stayed at our friend Olivier's country home in the Burgundy region. It was in a word heavenly, and always the consumate host, Olivier showed us an amazing and relaxing time. I believe the picture above says it all but if you want more picturesque perfect France living then here are a few more for your viewing pleasure.

Olivier's house...



Big table with food = my happy place





yeah...and the couch in front of that fireplace...soooooooo comfy



Did I mention Olivier has a wine cellar...we drank A LOT of wine...a lot of GOOD wine.



we took a field trip to a castle, because that's what you do on a normal country day







I think Olivier should buy the castle...just a thought. Nothing wrong with having two family homes. And look how well he fits in...

What the Hell is Wrong with People?

In the land of the highly unemployed one would assume that people would be making their best efforts to stand out among the applicants. The competition these days is fierce after all and a little attention to detail can go a long way. You know - it’s the little things that get you a phone call for an interview – articulating your desire for the position, emphasizing your skills, and using that handy dandy spell check to make sure your cover letter, or rather your cover email these days, is the best it can be. A person, in theory, should make every effort to put their best foot forward.

That’s a safe assumption right? Apparently…not.

Today Erik received an email in response to some freelance work and unbeknownst to the sender, attached to said email was someone else’s application email, otherwise known as this generation’s cover letter. And while so much could be said for the sheer fact that someone else’s application email was forwarded to Erik in error, we all make unfortunate reply/forward mistakes in our internet controlled lives so that at least bears basic forgiveness.

The other person’s application does not.

Advice number one for the currently unemployed – it’s probably best not to abbreviate words a la texting or instant messaging. If you can’t be bothered to write out because instead of “cause” or spell through instead of “thru” you’re probably suggesting to your potential employer that not only are you not one for detail, but you just simply can’t be bothered to do anything beyond the most mediocre and lazy level.

Also, just a thought, but perhaps your reasoning for being the right person for the job should go beyond the ever so charming and always convincing “I really like doing it”. “It” being the job in question, the one you will very much not be getting considering your obvious level of basic intelligence.

While I would like to assume this is not the norm for cover letters these days, I am horrified that it happens at all. But it does, it happens a lot, and apparently not even an unemployment rate that suggests the second coming of the Great Depression can convince job seekers to take the situation a little more seriously.

We all make mistakes. An error here or there is human, so obviously a misplaced comma or small spelling error is certainly not reason enough to be written off completely. But when your basic introductory application is seeping in laziness do you really think you’re deserving of a reply? Is that sense of entitlement you grew up with so engrained in you that you can’t see the value in presenting yourself in a way that at the very least suggests a certain level of respect for the employer and the opportunity at hand?

Maybe I’m just old. Maybe the internet age really is this relaxed and people can get away with careless applications because email correspondence is by nature less formal. But I just can’t get over it. Less formal does not have to mean less intelligent and if that makes me a potential job seeking suck up then so be it. I can live with that.

That’s right -I have no shame - my shit will be spell checked, my cover letter will be coherent, and that job will be mine.