After lunch today, I gathered my group of 22 wild and crazy toddlers on the carpet before me and proceeded to teach them a fun winter song.  While singing to them with my usual idiotic and overly dramatic gestures, many of the kids started giggling and I heard Cécile say: “On t’aime bien!” Only the words were spoken in very quick Kid French and I wasn’t 100% sure that I had heard correctly, especially since it seemed so out of context. In English, then, I asked her what she had said.  “On t’aime bien, Tiffany!” The confused look must have remained, however, because one of my English-speaking girls interpreted for me: “We love you, Tiffany!” And then, all of a sudden, the entire class shouted in unison that they loved me, and they all stood up and squished me in the most loving bisous-filled hug sandwich.

I think I turned bright red from embarrassment, but what a completely beautiful and unexpected moment.

Some days I’m convinced that I have the greatest job in the entire world.

I’m currently too tired and too depressed about leaving home, so I’ll maybe update about my trip another day.

Louisville–shot from Indiana

Stolen from Ashley’s Facebook

Another stolen Christmas photo

Sisterly love

Girl talk with Michi in the kitchen

The shot that almost killed me…thanks, JT!

Baby Diego

Charlie

The most beautiful boy in the entire world

Hope everyone had wonderful holidays and a fabulous NYE!

This is one of the most touching and beautiful things I’ve ever seen. I’m going to stay up all night watching the personal interviews:

http://www.6milliardsdautres.org/

Yes, the weekend flight to Strasbourg was hella expensive, but was it worth it? Bien sûr! Seeing Amélie for the first time in over a year and a half + good conversation + lots of vin chaud + finally finding the holiday spirit= priceless.

The Christmas market in pictures:

What is a Christmas market without some good ol’ hot spiced wine?

Or waiting in line for 30 minutes to eat at Flam’s?

Notre Dame de Strasbourg–quite possibly the most amazing cathedral ever.

 
Inside…

Beautiful half-timbered houses in the Petite France area of Strasbourg

The quintessential French breakfast–tartine and café crème. And the beautiful Amélie!

Amélie offered me this book for Christmas, which is pretty much the most hilarious thing I’ve ever read. Chapters include:

*Comment péter avec grâce et élégance à une réception chez l’ambassadeur (How to fart gracefully and elegantly at the ambassador’s reception)

*Comment faire sortir une araignée de votre baignoire (How to get a spider out of your bathtub)

*Comment étrangler un homme avec ses cuisses (How to strangle a man with your thighs)

*Comment se faire une petite robe noire avec un sac poubelle (How to make yourself a little black dress out of a trash bag)

Thanks to Amélie, I’m sure to become a “brilliant girl” in no time, right? haha

It was so nice to reconnect with such a good friend… but it sucks knowing that I won’t see her again until next summer. 

Mais c’est la vie.

The last few weeks at school have taken quite an emotional toll on me.  Our team of teachers seems to be divided for various reasons, both personal and professional, and I’ve clearly been thrown into the middle of it all. In such situations I generally make an earnest effort to not choose sides, but when issues concern my mentor teacher, it’s only natural that I would offer her my support.  In doing so, however, I feel as though I’ve been ostracized, along with Sylvie, by a group of women that has managed to create a strong feeling of mal à l’aise among the maternelle.

Add to that the impossible stress brought upon us during the Sinterklaas and Christmas periods, the moody aids, the incredibly hyperactive children and the fact that I am, and I am not even kidding, sick again for the third time since September… and maybe you can understand why I cried (possibly in relief that I am, in fact, doing something right) when I received this email from the (French) mom of a boy in my petite section tonight:

Dear Tiffany,

I meant to write you for so long and never really got the time.

You must be so excited to go home! Another week and you will be there!

I am not going to play the mummy who is desperately looking for attention and information about her son or daughter. Although I would love to be able to hide sometimes and watch few minutes of your day with the children in class, and see our little “prince”…

I do fully trust you and Sylvie, and seeing (child’s name) coming back very happy is for us the most important message we can receive. What he shares with you is already a part of his own, and he is free to share it or not.  

I just wanted to tell you how wonderful I think you are doing since the beginning of this year. I really admire your teamwork with Sylvie and your way of adapting the “French” system. Which I am sure is not always easy for any foreigner to enter another way of doing and thinking. You seem to love the children so much and really appreciate this age, which is just a magic period in life… and so important to become a happy grown up. 

Thanks for your enthusiasm, your energy, and your faith in those little persons! Thanks for being with them and sharing who you are and where you are coming from.

Many parents asked last time (during the nice presentation) when they would start speaking in English. For me the question is not relevant, I would rather ask:

Is he enjoying his time? Does he adapt well the different way of teaching and approach? Is he having fun? Is he happy? The rest will come naturally… At that age, the most important is to be happy and to get a taste of how life is wonderful!

Being at school is such a huge step at that age, and there are so many things he is learning.

This weekend he spoke a lot about you. He told me about the “good and the bad” with his little thumb. I never rehearse or sing, what you have already done in class during the week. For me the best result is when he is asking for a book or a DVD he will mention “Comme Tiffany s’ il te plait maman”… 

Anyway, Edwin and me wish you a wonderful Christmas at home and come back very soon for those little ones who will be so happy to see you in January.

After the November break of holidays, (boy’s name) was jumping everywhere yelling, “yeh yeh, I love to go back to school”.

So when you are on the plane back to here, think of those little ones waiting for you.

In the meantime, enjoy the US and your family. Merry Christmas, and happy New Year!

If I could offer just one suggestion to all of you during this holiday season, it would be this: stop running around worrying about what to buy someone for Christmas; instead, thank someone.  Tell someone that you appreciate who they are and the sacrifices they have made for you or someone you know.  Show someone some recognition.  Trust me–it goes a hell of a long way.

Before moving to Holland I didn’t know much about Sinterklaas or what the Dutch tradition actually entailed, but after having lived the month-long event, I realize that I quite like this aspect of the Nederlandse cultuur.

It all began a few weeks ago, when Sinterklaas arrived in The Hague with his Zwarte Pieten (Black Petes) on a boat from Spain.  The children, happily hoisted atop the sturdy shoulders of their dads, sang traditional Sinterklaas songs while the Black Pete assistants threw candy and pepernoten (small spice cookies) into the crowds. Finally, there was a huge parade up and down the “Fred”–a main street just a few steps from our front door–where the entire population of The Hague seemed to merge into a mass of childlike wonder.

During the following weeks, Sinterklaas visited schools, hospitals and could occasionally be found wandering around the city centre. However, the most prominent characters of this holiday were the Zwarte Pieten (the special elf-equivalent helpers of Sinterklaas), for they could be found all around town randomly throwing candy at children and parading around the streets playing trumpets and trombones. Kind of hilarious, especially with such silly outfits and painted faces:

Between the November arrival and the 5th of December (Sinterklaasavond–or the evening when everyone opens gifts), children place a wooden shoe with a carrot or some hay (for Sinterklaas’s horse) in front of the fireplace before bedtime in hopes of finding their offering replaced by a small toy or chocolate treat in the morning.  Quite a clever idea if you really think about it, as it allows parents (and teachers!) three full weeks of Sinterklaas bad behavior blackmail. I’m only slightly ashamed to admit that I removed my cell phone from my purse on two different occasions at school last week in order to call Sinterklaas with an “update” on certain badly behaved children in my class.  Too bad I’ll have no make-believe characters to use for bribing purposes once Christmas is over. Because it’s going to be a long time before the lapin de Pâques arrives…

Finally, December 5th arrived and what a long and exciting day we had at school!  We dressed the entire maternelle up in brightly-colored collars and Zwarte Piet hats in order to look the part for Sinterklaas and to, later in the day, visit les papis et mamies at the retirement home down the street.

Here are a few of my little Zwarte Pieten:

And, finally, a video of the little ones performing “Zwarte Piet.” Dutch is suddenly a wonderful, magical language when little kids are singing it.

Now, on to Christmas!

As many people do, I like to sit down every Thanksgiving and reflect upon those things in life for which I am thankful.  The list remains more or less the same, but because each year brings with it new challenges and situations, here is mine for 2008. 

I am thankful for:

*Family members who love and support me despite my being thousands of miles away.

*Friends who are always there for me, no matter where I might be in the world.

*Kate’s emails.

*A unique job experience that has, little by little, allowed me to grow both personally and professionally.

*The way I have been so openly embraced by my French colleagues.

*Recognition (from other teachers, the administration and parents) for how hard I work.

*The love, openness and spontaneity of the children in my classes.

*The opportunity to learn Dutch and to discover a new language and culture.

*The luxury of European travel.

*Knowing the completeness of true love.

*Living with the most understanding, creative, playful, intelligent and affectionate person I’ve ever known.

What are you thankful for?

Yesterday I confirmed a Facebook friend request from a long-lost high school buddy.  This evening, after thoroughly investigating my profile, he sent me a message with “Hopes and Dreams” as the subject. Here are the first few lines:

I am so jealous of you. The last time I talked to you, it was at UK and you were talking about moving to France after graduation. I can’t believe you did it! Chasing your dreams, living your life with no regrets! That is so awesome and I am so happy for you.

Though it was definitely nice to hear from Tommy again, his words really stirred up some deep emotions.  Yes, as early as sixteen I had talked about wanting to move to France.  And I did. Twice. It was a dream and I feel fortunate for having realized it.  But… is that the only dream I had/have to chase? Am I truly living a life with no regrets?

So many people back across the pond seem to believe that my life in Europe is some sort of fairytale.  The truth, however, is that it is not. In fact, I would sometimes call it quite the opposite. 

I wonder… does Tommy know what it’s like to be separated from your family for eight + months at a time? Does he know what it’s like to have to miss every Thanksgiving, every birthday, graduation and death? Does he realize how disconnected this makes me feel from the people I love, and how difficult it is for me to try to feel close to someone or to show someone how much I care without being able to see their face or touch their skin? Does he know that I spend the majority of my free time sitting right here in front of this computer screen because it’s my best attempt at feeling connected and happy? Does he know that when my little sister called to tell me that she was engaged that I cried after I hung up the phone?  Not because I’m not thrilled to death for her, but for selfish reasons that make me incredibly unhappy.  I want to be at home… to help her plan the wedding, to celebrate with her, and to be there when my nieces and nephews are born, because I have a gut feeling that that is going to happen soon.  I’ve already missed out on watching Michelle’s baby grow up, will miss Carrie’s as well, but really can’t bare the thought of not knowing my own family. 

Does Tommy know that sometimes I just want to speak fucking English to someone else who can understand my jokes and sense of humor? Does he know that I oftentimes come home from work with an intense headache because I feel so misunderstood? Whether it’s French or Dutch, it’s simply not English, and I cannot truly be me. My friends and family back home are the only ones who know and appreciate the real me. 

Does Tommy know that I feel like I have no one to talk to (face to face) besides Dave, and, well, you can’t discuss everything with your significant other. That’s where the good friends are supposed to come in.  Does Tommy know that, despite my not meaning to, I release weeks of bottled emotion twice a month when I Skype with my mom? As much as I would love to have a happy and normal conversation with her, I always end up crying.  Why? Because I feel so comfortable talking to her and know that she will listen to and understand my unhappiness… and somehow make me feel temporarily better about everything.

But everything is not better, and, really, I’m not sure when it ever will be.

I wonder, Tommy, do you realize how jealous I am of you?

Pour la première fois depuis très longtemps, j’ai pu regarder le monde (y compris moi-même) à travers les yeux naïfs d’une petite américaine qu’est ma soeur.  Sans le vouloir, notre voyage m’a obligée à bien réfléchir sur la personne que j’étais autrefois et celle que je suis devenue après avoir connu une sorte de “deuxième vie” en Europe.  Le problème, c’est que je me rends compte combien j’ai du mal à reconcilier ces deux “moi.” Qui suis-je? Et est-ce possible de rester “soi-même” lorsque l’on a été affronté à des cultures bien différentes de celle qu’on connaissait avant? Je ne sais plus.  D’un côté, j’aime bien ce nouveau moi–jeune femme d’une perspective internationale–mais de l’autre, ai-je laissé tomber mon gentil comportement sudiste afin d’être (ou de vouloir être) quelqu’un de plus raffinée?  Selon ma soeur, je suis maintenant plus snob. Je me demande si ce n’est pas la seule qui me trouve ainsi. Vouloir toujours plaire à tout le monde me tracasse trop…

En tout cas, on a passé un bon moment ensemble, ma soeur et moi.  On a chanté ensemble, on a cuisiné ensemble, on a même discuté de nos mecs et de l’avenir.  Et puis, lui faire (re)découvrir Paris (et aussi quelques-uns de mes amis étrangers), c’était magique.  Elle ne s’arrêtait pas de poser un milliard de questions, et de regarder tout avec un certain émerveillement.

Quant à moi, j’ai décidé que les parisiens semblent être (d’un point de vue étranger, au moins) un peuple vraiment grognon qui ne sait même pas profiter d’un simple sourire.  Mais! Si tu arrives à leur faire oublier un petit moment leur triste existence, cela en vaut certainement le coup.  A titre d’exemple: l’homme qui m’a dit, “Attendez–j’en ai des beaux!” quand j’ai demandé cinq timbres à la poste, ou la dame au tabac qui a ébauché un tout petit sourire lorsque j’ai fait une blague sur l’Amérique.  Finalement, c’est pour cela que j’aime tellement ces Frenchies.  Pour moi, ils représentent une sorte de défi, car un sourire réussi en France en vaut cinquante ailleurs.

En ce qui concerne l’Italie, j’avais oublié combien je trouvais questa lingua meravigliosa une douce musique à mes oreilles.  Et quel plaisir de pouvoir communiquer (un tout petit peu) avec les gens du coin dans leur propre langue lorsque l’on visitait Florence.  Bien que mon niveau (de vocabulaire surtout) soit limité, je pense que mon accent prouve que je suis prête à faire l’effort.  A vrai dire, je suis tombée amoureuse de Rome mais surtout de Florence cette semaine, et j’essaie déjà de trouver des possibilités pour y vivre un jour, même si ce n’est qu’un programme d’été.  En tout cas, il vaut mieux réaliser tous ces rêves avant les vraies responsabilités de la vie.

Avant de mettre des photos, voici deux événements marquants pour moi:

*Ma présence à Notre Dame de Paris lors des obsèques de la Soeur Emmanuelle.  Tout à fait incroyable cette femme. Pour en savoir plus.. sur sa vie et sur sa philosophie, vous pouvez regarder ici et ici.

*La possibilité de voir en vrai à la Galleria degli Uffizi: La naissance de Vénus de Botticelli et La Vénus d’Urbino de Titien que j’ai tant étudiée à l’université.  Avec ses traits souples et délicats, la Vénus de Botticelli est peut-être le plus beau tableau que j’ai jamais vu.

The sister and me.

Always wanted to do
this at the Louvre…such a tourist, I know.

Totally cliché, but
isn’t she beautiful?

I could eat Italian
food every day for the rest of my life and be one happy camper.

View from the hotel
terrace on which we enjoyed breakfast each morning. Did I mention that it was a
gorgeous 70 degrees?

Smaller than a Smart
Car…literally the smallest functioning car I have ever seen. It only has
three wheels, so that makes it inferior even to a Power Wheels.

Ponte Vecchio in Florence.