Today I face-planted it on the main stairwell in front of the entire high school where I work.
...twice.
Perhaps this is just another way life is telling me to slow down?
Hmm... no. Too obvious. I think this is just clumsiness.
It's really been quite a while since I've been good old-fashioned embarassed like that. Yet I was surprised to find that I was easily able to laugh it off, and I probably made the day of just about every student in the school (twice).
And, just a few hours before, I was working with my nursing students, discussing an image from "Friends" of Phoebe holding the triplets she just delivered. As she acted as a surrogate mother, you can imagine the vocabulary started to turn a bit difficult. One of the students was having difficulties expressing himself, so he came up to the board to draw out what he had to say. Science has never been my thing, but I knew enough to label his pictures "sperm" and "egg," and lots of awkward arrows and frustrated chalk later, we came up with "fertilize" and "conceive" and even "quadruplets." And then, just as quickly as it came, my life as a science teacher was over.
Walking (carefully) down the hall a bit later to make some copies, I pass a teacher and without even thinking stupidly blurt out, "Hola!" Woops. (my Spanish studies are going well though!) I try to shake it off but then feel inspired, so when I walk by a group of my students, I cheerfully pipe out, "Guten tag!" just to keep them on their toes (seeing as I can't stay on mine).
Tonight: dinner downtown with Alberto and a concert at La Rodia. Hopefully a weekend full of hiking. My back is feeling much better.
Hola. Geez.
Bisous,
Katie
Friday, January 28, 2011
Thursday, January 20, 2011
¿Hay una farmacia por aquí?
¿Hay una cafetería por aquí?
No, there is no cafe around here, but you can find me on the hard linoleum floor of my apartment hugging my left knee to my chest, repeating new Spanish vocabularly alongside a pleasant little Spanish tune.
¿Hay un centro comercial por aquí?
Is there a shopping center around here?
I puff out the phrase a bit more forefully than intended as I pull my other knee to my chest, trying to ignore the fact that the dust on my floor is sticking to me in an altogether unpleasant way. Note to self: Sweep soon.
¿Hay una farmacia por aquí?
At this, I burst out laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of my situation. Is there a pharmacy around here? my Spanish lesson wants to know. Yes! And, in fact, I have been to practically all of them in the past week for medicine to help my back problems, which have finally calmed down enough so that I stop bursting into tears in the middle of my mashed potatoes or teeth-brushing.
In my ever-going attempts to hit as many birds as possible with one stone, I decided to combine my vertabrae-taming breaks with a bit of Spanish review, and found the scene altogether too hilarious to keep to myself, and also as a more interesting way to update everyone that my back is doing slightly better, even if my Spanish isn't.
Besos!
Katie
No, there is no cafe around here, but you can find me on the hard linoleum floor of my apartment hugging my left knee to my chest, repeating new Spanish vocabularly alongside a pleasant little Spanish tune.
¿Hay un centro comercial por aquí?
Is there a shopping center around here?
I puff out the phrase a bit more forefully than intended as I pull my other knee to my chest, trying to ignore the fact that the dust on my floor is sticking to me in an altogether unpleasant way. Note to self: Sweep soon.
¿Hay una farmacia por aquí?
At this, I burst out laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of my situation. Is there a pharmacy around here? my Spanish lesson wants to know. Yes! And, in fact, I have been to practically all of them in the past week for medicine to help my back problems, which have finally calmed down enough so that I stop bursting into tears in the middle of my mashed potatoes or teeth-brushing.
In my ever-going attempts to hit as many birds as possible with one stone, I decided to combine my vertabrae-taming breaks with a bit of Spanish review, and found the scene altogether too hilarious to keep to myself, and also as a more interesting way to update everyone that my back is doing slightly better, even if my Spanish isn't.
Besos!
Katie
Ready For Marriage!
(as usual - a late post from +week ago)
The room is a confused mess of languages as I hastily try to finish the last Spanish tortilla at our tiny kitchenette while four Spaniards (ahem...they would appreciate that I clarified that one, maybe two? are Catalan, one is Basque, and the other one or two are...just Spanish??) and the lone Frenchie sit around at our kitchen table waiting for me to stop clanging pots and pans together so that we can eat dinner.
I've invited Elisa and Inigo over to eat with Alberto, Maxime, Clara and I, and the Spanish toritilla was a safe bet as it is:
1 - one of the only things I know how to cook pretty well
2 - a Spanish dish and the majority of this dinner party is from Spain
3 - it's ¡MUY BIEN!
They're trying to speak mostly French for the benefit of Maxime and I, but inevitably the two languages are interwoven together, forming a nice little Span-ench (Franish?) with the occasional frustrated English outburst between Inigo and I, as he studied in the Netherlands and is fluent in English but still breaking in French, and I feel like speaking the four words of Wolof I remember just to annoy everyone.
Finally, the tortilla is ready! I spin around with a little flourish, and as I set it on the table Inigo is so pleased with a little taste from home that he declares, "Tu es prête pour le mariage!" (You're ready for marriage!)Too bad my next move is to put the still-hot, greasy pan on something wet and lots of scary sizzling sounds snap and crack, more or less negating his statement, but allowing for a nice little chuckle from everyone before digging in.
As well all know, you can't eat at my place, or really, be in my presence, without escaping some form of game playing. We bust out the cards after we finished, which was really quite a bad idea, as describing and trying to understand directions in another language usually takes more time than playing the game itself.
So, we grab a pot, stick it in the middle of the table, and from there everyone thinks of as many popular figures to write down on scraps of paper to throw in to try game #2. We divide into two teams, and each round we have a minute to have our team members guess as many of these characters as possible. Round 1 - merely describing them in French...not bad, except that Inigo speaks English at first...Round 2 - throwing the names back in the pot but only being allowed one word this time to describe the characters you choose. Round 3 - throwing the names back in the pot again but not being allowed to talk at all, and instead having to act out the character.
Imagine, how would you gesture or act to convery that you are Britney Spears? Obama? Barbie? Sarkozy?
We had a great time watching Elisa zoom across the room like a bat to make us understand she was Batman, and when I got down on all fours and (tried to) put my fingers on my head I was OBVIOUSLY Pumba from the Lion King. Maxime was so confused and frustrated at one point to describe his character that he made very curvy outlines about 20 times in a row to indicate female but we were all let down to learn it was Queen Elizabeth, who is not all that voluptuous.
All in all, a successful evening, I think.
And to clarify: Not ready for marriage, thank you.
Love,
Katie
The room is a confused mess of languages as I hastily try to finish the last Spanish tortilla at our tiny kitchenette while four Spaniards (ahem...they would appreciate that I clarified that one, maybe two? are Catalan, one is Basque, and the other one or two are...just Spanish??) and the lone Frenchie sit around at our kitchen table waiting for me to stop clanging pots and pans together so that we can eat dinner.
I've invited Elisa and Inigo over to eat with Alberto, Maxime, Clara and I, and the Spanish toritilla was a safe bet as it is:
1 - one of the only things I know how to cook pretty well
2 - a Spanish dish and the majority of this dinner party is from Spain
3 - it's ¡MUY BIEN!
They're trying to speak mostly French for the benefit of Maxime and I, but inevitably the two languages are interwoven together, forming a nice little Span-ench (Franish?) with the occasional frustrated English outburst between Inigo and I, as he studied in the Netherlands and is fluent in English but still breaking in French, and I feel like speaking the four words of Wolof I remember just to annoy everyone.
Finally, the tortilla is ready! I spin around with a little flourish, and as I set it on the table Inigo is so pleased with a little taste from home that he declares, "Tu es prête pour le mariage!" (You're ready for marriage!)Too bad my next move is to put the still-hot, greasy pan on something wet and lots of scary sizzling sounds snap and crack, more or less negating his statement, but allowing for a nice little chuckle from everyone before digging in.
As well all know, you can't eat at my place, or really, be in my presence, without escaping some form of game playing. We bust out the cards after we finished, which was really quite a bad idea, as describing and trying to understand directions in another language usually takes more time than playing the game itself.
So, we grab a pot, stick it in the middle of the table, and from there everyone thinks of as many popular figures to write down on scraps of paper to throw in to try game #2. We divide into two teams, and each round we have a minute to have our team members guess as many of these characters as possible. Round 1 - merely describing them in French...not bad, except that Inigo speaks English at first...Round 2 - throwing the names back in the pot but only being allowed one word this time to describe the characters you choose. Round 3 - throwing the names back in the pot again but not being allowed to talk at all, and instead having to act out the character.
Imagine, how would you gesture or act to convery that you are Britney Spears? Obama? Barbie? Sarkozy?
We had a great time watching Elisa zoom across the room like a bat to make us understand she was Batman, and when I got down on all fours and (tried to) put my fingers on my head I was OBVIOUSLY Pumba from the Lion King. Maxime was so confused and frustrated at one point to describe his character that he made very curvy outlines about 20 times in a row to indicate female but we were all let down to learn it was Queen Elizabeth, who is not all that voluptuous.
All in all, a successful evening, I think.
And to clarify: Not ready for marriage, thank you.
Love,
Katie
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Happy New Year!
I brought in 2011 by donating a freshly-croched, awesomely-striped wool hat to a German river.
Perhaps it wasn't so much donated as much as it just accidently fell off my head as I looked up to watch fireworks in Konstanz, Germany.
I was with Carolin and her friends, minutes after midnight, in complete awe of the fireworks going off in virtually every direction from what seemed to be the entire young population of Konstanz. Cups of champagne lined the bridge we were standing on, sparklers came dangerously close to our noses as we waved them in each other's faces yelling HAPPY NEW YEAR, and everyone exchanged hugs.
Eyes wide with a smile that practically hurt my face, I was leaning back against the bridge with Carolin so as to observe the endless exploding lights better, when the New Year decided my head was quite warm enough and so tipped my hat into previously mentioned German river.
Ah, well. Figures. That's what I get for wearing the presents I make for people.
Several days later, I was watching Carolin recede further and further away from me as the train left the station and I made a heart with my fingers with a slight pout on my face as she waved goodbye and went out of sight, still wearing the baby-sized scarf I knitted her and still claiming to love it. I saw virtually no sun in Konstance until this moment, when it finally decided to grace my presence and illuminate the ride back to Heidelberg, a ride that consisted of The Black Forest, mountains, and a random castle, all cozily basking in the most stubbern and sassy of suns.
And voila, here I am. Back in France in my favorite cafe/bar where one might think a rainbow threw up on the chairs, walls and even the heaters. Big, chunky gray stones line the walls of the cafe, contrasting with all their might against the bright orange and blue chairs, bright yellow heaters, neon green walls with purple trimming and paintings just as colorful, as though they're trying to rebel against the plain wall they're mounted upon. Needless to say, I love this place.
Life has settled back into some semblance of a routine. My work schedule is different every day and changes every other week, but there are still patterns surrounding all of this that make for some kind of routine. Coming back at the end of my German adventure felt like coming home, and I'm basking in all the warm, cozy moments as much as I can, seeing as the weather is about as grouchy as I am when I haven't had chocolate in a long time (aka it's misty/raining/mucky/gross).
There's nothing quite like coming home to demand your bisous from a beautiful Catalan flatmate, who pretends to consider the request, only to practically knock you over from the force of the most exaggerately huge bisous you've received, ending with a resounding MUAH.
I also just received a box from home full of stationary full of all sorts of things to write with and on, and I spent the better part of the evening running around with the box which was half detroyed from my excitement in opening it, and just about everyone in the apartment complex knows I now have butterfly-lined stationary with envelopes of a really nice shade of green.
Most nights I eat at the cantine in the foyer, as I found I don't see my friends who live there nearly enough when I eat at home in my apartment just 7 minutes down the road. Sure, they might serve for dinner what they served at lunch, giving everything a slightly deflated air, but I'm surrounded by my favorite people, and constantly meeting new arrivals, too.
One of these newbies is Elisa from Spain. She recently arrived and will only be here for 3 months. You would think I was a native from the area by the way I jump around like an overly-caffeinated tour guide, telling her all the things she has to do and see before she leaves, and then deciding for us that we're going on a little hike after she finishes studying a day or two later.
I love meeting new people if only because you can then do something you've done a dozen times before, yet it's an entirely new experience. This was the case when I met Elisa in front of the Center of Applied Linguistics, conveniently located just a few minutes from a nice little hike to Fort Chaudanne. It's another slightly gloomy day, but we both enjoy this, as when you're visiting medieval stone forts, it's a bit like mixing macaroni with cheese instead of chocolate. It just goes.
Elisa teaches me a Spanish rain song as we climb the slippery log steps to the top of the hill, and I stumble among the words about as much as the logs, and enjoy myself immensely as I'm in my first week of semi-officially learning Spanish, and I understand, like, at least 2 words:
I present to you, the rain song!
Elisa wasn't actually dressed up in a bunny suit or anything, but it was a pleasant little tune when she sang it too.
We reached the top, and I realize once again why I love sharing things I love. It's one of the best feelings to watch someone discover something and be excited about it.
We were the only ones up on such a gloomy day, and it was perhaps due to this that we rebelled in the least rebellious way possible, which was to enter the fort, which has a gate normally closed across it with a sign that says something to the effect of "GO AWAY," but as this sign was pushed flat and helpless against the old stone wall, in we went.
Really, it was just a lot of rock piles and closed doors, but we found a tiny, abandonned tower and decided to have a bit of an adventure. It felt so "Secret Garden." Except for the really brightly colored, awkwardly placed GIANT BIRD:
The world may never know.
Love,
Katie
Perhaps it wasn't so much donated as much as it just accidently fell off my head as I looked up to watch fireworks in Konstanz, Germany.
I was with Carolin and her friends, minutes after midnight, in complete awe of the fireworks going off in virtually every direction from what seemed to be the entire young population of Konstanz. Cups of champagne lined the bridge we were standing on, sparklers came dangerously close to our noses as we waved them in each other's faces yelling HAPPY NEW YEAR, and everyone exchanged hugs.
Eyes wide with a smile that practically hurt my face, I was leaning back against the bridge with Carolin so as to observe the endless exploding lights better, when the New Year decided my head was quite warm enough and so tipped my hat into previously mentioned German river.
Ah, well. Figures. That's what I get for wearing the presents I make for people.
Several days later, I was watching Carolin recede further and further away from me as the train left the station and I made a heart with my fingers with a slight pout on my face as she waved goodbye and went out of sight, still wearing the baby-sized scarf I knitted her and still claiming to love it. I saw virtually no sun in Konstance until this moment, when it finally decided to grace my presence and illuminate the ride back to Heidelberg, a ride that consisted of The Black Forest, mountains, and a random castle, all cozily basking in the most stubbern and sassy of suns.
And voila, here I am. Back in France in my favorite cafe/bar where one might think a rainbow threw up on the chairs, walls and even the heaters. Big, chunky gray stones line the walls of the cafe, contrasting with all their might against the bright orange and blue chairs, bright yellow heaters, neon green walls with purple trimming and paintings just as colorful, as though they're trying to rebel against the plain wall they're mounted upon. Needless to say, I love this place.
Life has settled back into some semblance of a routine. My work schedule is different every day and changes every other week, but there are still patterns surrounding all of this that make for some kind of routine. Coming back at the end of my German adventure felt like coming home, and I'm basking in all the warm, cozy moments as much as I can, seeing as the weather is about as grouchy as I am when I haven't had chocolate in a long time (aka it's misty/raining/mucky/gross).
There's nothing quite like coming home to demand your bisous from a beautiful Catalan flatmate, who pretends to consider the request, only to practically knock you over from the force of the most exaggerately huge bisous you've received, ending with a resounding MUAH.
I also just received a box from home full of stationary full of all sorts of things to write with and on, and I spent the better part of the evening running around with the box which was half detroyed from my excitement in opening it, and just about everyone in the apartment complex knows I now have butterfly-lined stationary with envelopes of a really nice shade of green.
Most nights I eat at the cantine in the foyer, as I found I don't see my friends who live there nearly enough when I eat at home in my apartment just 7 minutes down the road. Sure, they might serve for dinner what they served at lunch, giving everything a slightly deflated air, but I'm surrounded by my favorite people, and constantly meeting new arrivals, too.
One of these newbies is Elisa from Spain. She recently arrived and will only be here for 3 months. You would think I was a native from the area by the way I jump around like an overly-caffeinated tour guide, telling her all the things she has to do and see before she leaves, and then deciding for us that we're going on a little hike after she finishes studying a day or two later.
I love meeting new people if only because you can then do something you've done a dozen times before, yet it's an entirely new experience. This was the case when I met Elisa in front of the Center of Applied Linguistics, conveniently located just a few minutes from a nice little hike to Fort Chaudanne. It's another slightly gloomy day, but we both enjoy this, as when you're visiting medieval stone forts, it's a bit like mixing macaroni with cheese instead of chocolate. It just goes.
Elisa teaches me a Spanish rain song as we climb the slippery log steps to the top of the hill, and I stumble among the words about as much as the logs, and enjoy myself immensely as I'm in my first week of semi-officially learning Spanish, and I understand, like, at least 2 words:
I present to you, the rain song!
Elisa wasn't actually dressed up in a bunny suit or anything, but it was a pleasant little tune when she sang it too.
We reached the top, and I realize once again why I love sharing things I love. It's one of the best feelings to watch someone discover something and be excited about it.
We were the only ones up on such a gloomy day, and it was perhaps due to this that we rebelled in the least rebellious way possible, which was to enter the fort, which has a gate normally closed across it with a sign that says something to the effect of "GO AWAY," but as this sign was pushed flat and helpless against the old stone wall, in we went.
Really, it was just a lot of rock piles and closed doors, but we found a tiny, abandonned tower and decided to have a bit of an adventure. It felt so "Secret Garden." Except for the really brightly colored, awkwardly placed GIANT BIRD:
 |
| What are you doing there, silly giant rainbow bird? |
Love,
Katie
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