Halloween comes early

The pumpkin, ghost and candy holiday comes early here....we are already in the thralls of planning the porch decorations ("I'll even pay $5 or MORE of my own money for that!") and costumes, ("I was thinking to be darth vador, but now I'm thinking of being a spy." ((me= i like that, more original)). "What does original mean?" (my explanation). "Yes, I think it's much better to be orignial, don't you?" (three hours later, teeth are being brushed. "I mean, like tons of kids are going to be darth vador and pirates but I bet like only 5 kids will be spies."

Makes me remember being totally psyched for holidays, and with him, I can be almost totally psyched again....

Discussion between gatito and Dr. Write/Middlebrow's son today. "There is a month and 9 days till Halloween......long conversation about exactly HOW many days that was.......

Let the goblins come!

Box of Tomatoes

Got my box of locally grown tomatoes and now am wondering what to do with them. Anyone got any good ideas for soups to freeze? Or any other ways to consume large quantities of the red stuff?

Thoughts on Returning to Utah

Okay, all, that was a long time, no blog. Now, I'm back, mostly settled (but still ripping up the house). Don says we're hemorrhaging money, but if we don't fix the 2 year old holes in the ceiling now, when will we? And of course, fixing holes means painting and re-doing the bathroom while we're at it ('cause some of those holes CAME from bathroom problems, which also calling an electrician to finally put an outlet in the bathroom, which means we should also have him put a light in Adrian's closet, which reminds us we promised Adrian a new bedroom, which means new windows (and why is vinyl so expensive...but the grandparents are paying for it), which means since we're saving money on the windows we might as well get new carpeting upstairs.

Observations and Comments about life back in Utah:
1) It's hot
2) It's dry
3) People are obsessed with exercise
4) The cars are very very big
5) Wine is ridiculously expensive. Speaking of which The Paris is WAY over-priced. We ate more and better in the REAL Paris for less
6) It's hot
7) It's stupid to have to drive everywhere
8) It's stupid to show an ID for wine when in Sevilla we just sent Adrian to the corner store.
9) It's stupid to have to buy our own wine instead of sending the kid
10) Come to think of it, cheese is over-priced too
11) It's way too hot

(and in case you're wondering.. Sevilla CAN BE hotter, but we missed all that because we left June 22 and went to Denmark (think mid-Alaska)!

Sevilla Out and LOSERS

Bags almost packed, apartment almost clean, school almost finished, and very very soon we will bid Sevilla goodbye, head north, then south, then north again before flying west west west.

This is the last you'll hear from the Tail for a while.
See you in late August.

Just a little addition, as I'm typing away, thanking Otterbutt for reminding me about Father's Day, I suddenly realize and yell over to The Don, (sitting across from me).
"Hey, Oh shit,we forgot our anniversary!"
The Don looks at his watch to check the date. "Yeh, that was the day before I got back from doing field work"
Me: "The 13th?"
The Don: "No, the 14th!"
Me: "Shit, and it was a big one."
The Don: "Yeh, the 10th."

I make him the LOSER L sign on my forehead. He makes it back to me.

What is 10 anyway? Diamonds, Emeralds (please say emeralds!!!), pearls? What???

Ole Ole Ole Ole Betis

Last night Gatito and I took a taxi to the soccer stadium where we proceeded to stand in line, in the rain, with umbrella, for 40 minutes to buy tickets to Betis' last home game. An important game at that because Betis has lost most games this year and if they lost this one, they would almost surely get bumped down to Second Division. Emotions running high. Everyone dressed in official gear: Green and White.

Gatito was dressed in his official Betico clothes complete with new wristwatch. After some amoeba-like bizarre line confusion, we got tickets (hey, only 55 euros for the two of us. A real bargain because Gatito is under 10!).

Got to our seats. It was raining, but we were in the covered section. The field bright green, beautiful. The players came out, warmed up. Great legs. Some incredible warm-up footwork, but it was obvious from the get-go that Osasuna was the better team (even to untrained eyes like mine) but I got in big trouble for saying that.

A woman and man sat down next to us, obviously season pass holders because she said to her husband, as she flicked her fan, "Here we are to suffer for one last time."

And suffer we did. Osasuna won 5 to 0. That's right ZERO. The fans went nuts, screamed and yelled at the President of Betis, tried to attack him, threw fire "bombs" onto the field. Despite all that, it was quite calm....many children there. (most problems happened post-game and we were long-gone).

We walked the 2+ miles home, discussed the game, had a drink at a bar and lamented our terrible bad luck. This morning, though, Gatito got up and put his Betis shirt back on again. He's no deserter, I guess!

Mini Virgins and Soccer

Okay, so in reality, they're called "Las Cruces de Mayo" but here at home we refer to them as "mini virgins". I (wrongly) assumed that after Semana Santa, the processions were done, but now, every brotherhood is bringing out small versions of their virgins (again with lots of beer, drunk men, and brass bands). Adrian's school has a procession that he will walk in on Tuesday! Thankfully, there won't be any drunk men there.

Otherwise, temperatures rising quickly and our time in Sevilla is going fast. Tomorrow, The Don heads out to the mountains for 2 weeks of field work. Gatito and I will sweat it out here in Sevilla, finish reading Narnia (in Spanish) and learning his guitar pieces for his music camp in July. Besides, that, we've decided that we should devote the sunset hour every day to a bar along the river where we will sit, drink and contemplate life.

Also on the horizon: A BETIS game (local soccer club to which we have become a family of fans. Gatito received an outfit for his bday and wears it every day after school. We've also accumulated a BETIS watch. And the upcoming Saturday is the last game (By the way, Betis has had a rare, horrible year and if they lose this game, they fall to the dreaded 2nd division...hell. We will (hopefully if I can figure such a thing out) be there cheering.

Finally, Introducing the Campers

Finally, with Jessica's help, I've learned how to download and then upload an image. DO NOT LAUGH. I know I'm 10 years behind the times, but hey, I've got Campers.

Note: the high heeled pair are "twins" and fraternal at that.

the academic's son

Gatito's second cousin arrives with a jumbo size bag of M&Ms (which I'm allowed to eat, but ONLY IF I ASK PERMISSION).

Gatito opens the bag and spills some onto the table in front of us. They roll, spin, twirl and stop. I grab a yellow (where did light brown go?).

Gatito pops one in his mouth and says: I'm going to write a grant to the government to do some research and start making m&ms.

(I sense something good is coming, or is it a didactic monologue like The Don provides from time-to-time? I'm unsure and so I do an un-scorpion-tail-thing and keep quiet).

I'm going to get a grant to make new m&ms. M&Ms with caramel inside, and good ones too. With ham and cheese, with (he glances at me) with WINE, with all kinds of stuff.

Now you tell me. What is more amazing? An 8 year old already thinking of getting grants from the government or the making of M&M with wine?
(hope it's red wine)

Three Hams

So we're walking down Reyes Catolicos on our way to Musgo to look for summer dresses (didn't find any without gold or silver sparkles), when Gatito has another one of his "good ideas" (this is what he calls them).
"I know what you can do for a job!" (poor thing has internalized my need for work). "You can open a Spanish bar in Salt Lake!"
Laughter.
"Seriously. We'll buy three hams and hang two of them up. The third one we'll cut and use to serve people. El Don knows how to cook gambas alajillo and espinacas con garbanzos and all our friends will come to eat. You'll make lots of money."

But there forms the idea for a fall party....All our friends...El Don cooking our Spanish favorites, perhaps a few paper mache hams hanging above. Maybe we can even make jamon-shaped pinatas and the kids can beat them to death.

NO EXISTE

The up-side of sending gatito off to the field with El Don for two days where he got to stay in El Palacio and collect dead ants and video tape dung beetles rolling horse manure into little balls was the time to write and think and of course, the excitement he showed upon return and the amazing things I know he's seeing and experiencing (like calling me to describe what every bird species looks like and I'm supposed to look them up in the bird guide (which I unfortunately left in Salt Lake City) and tell him what they're called.

The downside??? the exhaustion he obviously feels on return and of course, it's taken out on ME. The MOTHER. Who else? I got one: "Sylvia, you've used up all my patience." (Now where did he hear THAT?). The throwing away of my mother's day presents (shells from the beach), the writing of NO EXISTE! on the Feliz Dia del Madre card.

What more can I say? It's mother's day in Spain, which I find to be an "intellectually interesting coincidence: with Labor Day.......
But then again, NO EXISTE!!!!!!

Feria

Religious pageantry now behind us, it's time for the Feria! Gatito has Wed-Friday off of school and before the beach on Thurs, we need to see what this is all about.

As Ms. Bell says...what makes grown women put on polka dots and ruffly dresses and parade around town accompanied by men with pants so tight they must unzip to sit...?

To help answer that question, I've invited two friends from Paris...so far we've had late nights, shopping days and I have 2 (not 1, but 2!) new pairs of Camper shoes..both fancy, high heels. As Alexandra said, "We NEED good shoes for our balance." Upon returning home and modeling these beauties, the Don kindly chose to remain mute rather than take the opportunity to remind me of the shitty exchange rate for the dollar.

So back to Feria, got the shoes, got the visitors, got temps in the high 70s, but it's sort of like a private party where people have "casitas" and you have to have an invitation to enter. This is where gatito comes in. We've got an invite from one of his school friends today, so tonight we'll be heading to the Feria at the outskirts of town and my biggest problem is that besides great shoes, I have NOTHING TO WEAR!!! (=?more shopping?)

Semana Santa II

Last night we met up with parents of gatito's friends at 8:30pm. That was "right!"

(The wrong: me wearing faded jeans, hiking shoes and a black fleece.....their family looks like they stepped out of a fashion magazine. Gatito's friend in shorts, colored boy stockings, matching shoes and a little Berber-like coat. My family steps out of grunge.)

Attire aside, they led us through the crowd to a side street along the procession route where we could almost breath. We stood with thousands of others and watched the hundreds of nazarinths pass. Our children are pushed to the front so they can see (but where we can't see them). A man from the front calls back to us: "I've got one hand on each child's shoulder". Then he tells them that when the nazarinths give them candies, he wants a cut! They entertain themselves asking for candy, little cards with pictures of virgins and Jesus on them and then wax from the candles carried by the same nazarinths (the candle is turned on its side, the melted wax is collected onto a ball of paper that grows in color and size with dripping wax through all the days and years of processions). When the SECOND procession passes (11:00pm), and the Jesus float stops right in front of us, a woman from a balcony above begins to sing. Everyone hushes to listen to her beautiful, plaintive song. I had goosebumps.

THIS was my idea of Semana Santa. People not just drinking to drunkeness, eating and talking on cell phones with intermittent glances at the procession, but a mass of people actually engaged with the spirituality. Even if I don't feel the religion, I loved the moment of people coming together in good spirit and mood. Quite beautiful.

After that, they led us to a tapa bar where we elbowed our way inside to eat and drink. The Don returned home at that point (it being 12:30am) because he had to do early morning field work, but gatito and I stayed on for 2 more processions, finally "leaving the friends early" and walking home (the streets were PACKED PACKED PACKED with people). It was 2:30am.

I'm rather trashed today...all that excitement meant I didn't sleep until 4:30am. Gatito's first words upon waking. "Anoche fue muy divertido." I agreed.

And then he reminded me that the Esperanza de Triana, who is around the corner from our house, is coming out at 3:00am tonight/tomorrow. His ball of wax must grow!

Semana Santa

I knew it was big, but I didn't realize HOW big until I got the 20 page booklet (complete with advertisements and bacalao recipies) with the entire SEMANA SANTA schedule.

There are 8-10 processions per day. Each procession consists of 2 floats: first Jesus with cross and then the virgin. Each virgin or Jesus has been carved and painted (many dating back to the 17oo and 1800s); the floats are painted shiny gold or silver and all include flowers and huge candles. Each float is carried by about 20 men who switch out with other-twenty-men during the course of the procession. These floats are followed by about 50 'nazarenths' who, people dressed bizarrely like KKK. Incense is burned and it's all followed up by a screeching brass band and drums so loud you understand why everyone in Spain screams when they talk.

The booklet also has the mapped-out route for each procession...from the church where the stay during the year, past the enormous cathedral and then back again. Some processions START at 2am; some END at 2am. This goes on for 6 days. All hours of all days.

The second most popular virgin of Sevilla is here in Triana: La Esperanza. She'll be out on Friday, the biggest day. People push their way in to get near her, to brush their fingers to the silver. They cry. They faint. They feel a passion for idols that I cannot comprehend.

The most bizarre part is the fact that right now, it's 1:32 am and my street is FULL of Americans and Germans who have come for the festivities...all drunk and very loud (hence: me awake now).

This being the beginning, I don't know what to think.
Update to follow....

Sevilla: Museum of Tiny Art

On Sunday we went to the museum of fine arts here in Sevilla. The museum is housed in an old, gorgeous 15th century convent with traditional tiles on some of the walls. The collected works are mostly those of famous Sevillan artists.
The really fun part was being in the museum with Adrian and realizing how much children notice!
"Look, Sylvia, how Jesus is so calm on the cross."
"What?" I ask.
"That picture way down there."
I look down at the other end of the room and see a huge painting. In the middle of the picture is Jesus on the cross. There are two other crosses, one on each side of Jesus. Each has a man on it as well (the thieves?).
"See?" Adrian says. "See how Jesus is so calm, accepting it, but the other men are fighting their deaths."
I look and see. Not only had I completely glazed over this picture (one of many with religious themes) but even when I looked at it, I didn't really SEE it. Thank god for the little people of the world who make us see.

Off with their heads!

Who would have thought that killing people could be so much fun? Here I am writing this science laboratory based murder mystery novel and already I've learned a few big lessons:

1) Lowering your standards, gets words on the page fast.
2) Don't despair when you think you've lowered your standards too much! Pick up the 2 books you bought at the airport and browse. Realize your standards are fine.
3) Learn that killing people is not only EASY, it's FUN.
4) Why stop at just one? All the books have at least two murders, so go ahead, kill off that gerbil-like other guy too. He's got to be guilty of something (that part you can figure out later)
5) Tired of finding new adjectives to describe your book's location? Switch location. Add an exotic trip to coral reefs to find new snail toxins. Never been scuba diving? That's okay. Make it up! Later, there are fact checkers for that (aren't there?)
6) Finally, even if your characters aren't all that interesting, it's important to give them good heroes:
Like the one that my female graduate student character adores: Emelie Chatelet, an 18th century French mathematician & physicist. She figured out that Newton screwed up about the laws of motion: The energy of a moving object wasn't proportional to its mass x velocity, but rather velocity needed to be squared, e.g. E = mv2. Sound familiar? It should. Nearly two centuries later Einstein figured out e=mc2 based on her correction.

(In case you're wondering, her theory was demonstrated by dropping metal balls into clay. When dropped from twice the distance, they sunk 4x into the clay, i.e. the square of twice as far and not twice as far as Newton predicted.)

Plus, she was quite the independent women. Had numerous affairs (all fine with her husband who had his own) including Voltaire who said she was a great man whose only flaw was being a woman! She died at 44 after giving birth to a child from another affair (Voltaire was mad).

7) Accept (once again) that you aren't a woman genius, but do a couple of sun salutations for Carl Djerassi.

Spring Thoughts of Nothing

Spring has arrived to southern Spain. We've got temps in the 70s, lots of sun. The dark house is light once again. On the weekends, the strip of grass in front of the river is crowded with young people (does it mean you're old when you start referring to 18-25 year olds as "young"?)...They are out, scantily clad, the males riding their vespas past the females, guitars, and lots of rum and coke...This all looks fine, but later, they come stumbling home by my house, screaming and breaking bottles and often vomiting outside my door....

One things I won't miss in Spain. Well, 3 things, actually: garbage in the street, dog shit in the street and passing vomit on my way to gatitos school.

Why live here? This past weekend, we rented a car and went out with the Danish friends to explore the countryside. We visited 3 sets of Roman ruins, one right next to the beach with columns and statues and a salting factory where they salted the tuna and made garum....a delicatessen condiment made from fish guts and other things. Apparently, this stuff was more expensive than caviar. I love walking the old Roman streets, smelling the rosemary that has been planted there and imagining Trajan and Hadrian who were born and lived in these places. In so many ways...so little has changed: people live, eat, die, fall in love, out of love, empires rise and fall....(odd to think we're on the downturn of our own empire right now.....what will they say of the USA people 2000 years from now?)

Suffering the Consequences

Gatito finally got me to rent rollerblades! Once I had them on I was a lot less sure about the plan than before I put them on, but away we went on the not-so-smooth Spanish sidewalks. He, of course, is a little pro and he was able to give me pointers:
"The first time, is hard. The second is easier. After that, you'll get really good like me."

So, we skated around the 'route' he'd invented for us and when we passed by one of many half-dead caterpillars trying to cross the sidewalk, gatito says, "That caterpillar is suffering the consequences of the end of life." He then explained to me is the same as "suffering the consequences of the end of the game."

So there I have it. Philosophy from gatito!

No Basketball Stars in This Family!

Back from Paris, one thing jumped out at me. Gatito's friend Javier grew about 3 cm while I was gone. Gatito did not. He is even more dwarfed by every single one of his classmates. This isn't a little dwarfing. What's an already obsessive mother to do? Start worrying. Call the retired pediatrician grandfather. Email Dr. Bell, read up on the internet, finally buy a tape measure.

I mean, Gatito's always been small. Born average, he fell off the average curve and dropped to 10% and sort of stayed there (except for the times he's dipped into 3%). I'm getting projected final heights of 5.4.
Dr. Lou says, "Short parents; short kid". Bone scan at age 3 was normal. I don't want to fall into the appearances trap....looks ain't or shouldn't be everything, but still, a man of 5.3 or 5.4 just simply has a tougher time of it.
The good news. He is growing (2 cm since October). More important: He's happy, smart, healthy, not bothered by size.

Dr. Jenny to the rescue. She says it's just too early to know. And, if need be, therapy looks like a good option. "Safer than a lot of what we do," but in any case, it's too early to "do" anything. So, we're supposed to sit back, relax and wait.
Tomorrow: rollerblading!

Hotel Sylvia

The up-side of sabbatical (is there a down-side you ask....well, no, actually, there isn't). The up-side of things generally already "up" is the visit of friends to said sabbatical location. We've been particularly lucky. The year was started off by a visit by my Danish host-brother. He was 11 when I lived with his family (I was 18) and well, he was cute, but also annoying..more than once grabbing the lunch I'd prepared off my plate! I know, not a real offense, but I was 18 and everything is annoying at that age. I really didn't know him and when I saw him again in 1998, he was busy and we still didn't meet as adults. But here he was arriving to Sevilla, a full-grown man, interesting and fun and a Danish designer to boot. We had a wonderful time. After Jorn (cross that o with a null sign for correctness), we had Laura and Pachi our Spanish friends, followed by Gene and Janis (almost Trianeros themselves) and also a couple of nice evenings with the infamous, fearless herpetologist Norm Scott and his wife, Joan.

Christmas brought the much-awaited Lynn, Jason and Ross and well, we've already talked about how GREAT that was (also how much I paid for it in liver and thigh size, but no money to eat in Paris solved that).

Now that the new year has turned, we've gotten to see Lynn Loveless, a biologist friend of Don's for the past 30 years. With Lynn we got to explore Italica, the Roman ruins right outside of Sevilla where Hadrian and Trajan were born... one of the largest amphitheaters still around--think 25,000 seats and lion dens below and Cordoba, with the best kept mosque from 1000ad times, hundred of red and white brick arches with a bonafide Catholic church plunked into the middle where I kept thinking, "man, this would be a great place for a yoga class."

We now await the arrival of Leif and Kirsten, my Danish host-parents, on Tuesday...to be followed shortly thereafter by, Mor Mor and Bio (my parents) and then Laura again, and then Jacob (18 year old filmmaker son of my friend Ruth) and then Jessica, coming under the auspices of 'graduate student doing field work with Don'...but really, I'm more looking forward to great company & conversation, and then John and Carola for a quick night of tapas, flamenco and who knows what else?, and then Stephanie & Alessandra down from Paris for their both birthday weekends and then (HOPEFULLY) Fabio from Italy and then quite possibly Marc and Noah from Boston.

Sound crazy to you? Not at all to me. I feel only lucky. Lucky because all of these people bring energy and life and wisdom and laughter and on top of it all, they know me. So, when I disappear for a time-alone-nap, no one bats an eye. They go off and entertain themselves, come back with interesting wines to drink, cheeses to nibble, wait for me to wake up and get out into the Spanish night.

I ain't complaining 'bout nothing, as the Don would say, and hey, there are still some weekends unbooked, so if you've got a frequent flyer ticket, here's the address. Rodrigo de Triana 87. Clean beds are waiting and there's a pretty damn good cook in the kitchen.

Andalucia Once More

Leaving Paris wasn't so hard after all. In the last days, I became anxious to see el gatito again and hear him chatter about life and legos (really what else is there? He is now calling Spanish toy stores by himself to ask whether they have 'numero 9200?' Obviously, El Don can't or won't do it...and so motivation makes the world go round). I must say in the last days, the gray Parisian sky, the misty rain, the blaring of gendarmes horns lost its charm.

Yesterday, I rolled my big black suitcase down to the metro at Bastille, managed to carry it down the steps, force it through the turnstall and get it onto an overflowing metro, but of course, when I got to the first of two change points, there were steps. LOTS of steps. And here I was, trying to leave the city looking chic....dress and boots. But of course, there is always a knight who comes along, isn't there? This time in the form of a handsome, well-muscled African man who kindly carried my bag down all flights of stairs, smiled and wished me Bon Voyage....

As the plane landed (15 mintues early) in Sevilla, I felt myself coming home again...and what a homecoming it was. El gatito, with friend, Javier, had, in the last hours I am assured, torn the otherwise clean and orderly house apart. Pillows, legos, blankets, stuffed animals everywhere. Where was El Don you ask? Where else? In the kitchen with his biologist friend, Lynn, just in from Hamburg, drinking wine and talking science.

El Gatito: "Mommy, tomorrow I'm going to clean EVERYTHING!"

And so today, I make the strange and natural transition back to domestic life. I am mother once more, already being told that homework can be postponed, that he doesn't want to go with us to Italica or Cordoba on the weekend, etc. El Don is glad I'm back. Competent alone with gatito for a month? Absolutely. Tired? Definitely. We'll see if I can pick up some slack before I try to draft out MY yearly marital review!

Paris in the Winter

It's Sunday and I'm again in the Falstaff Bar...thinking how sad it is that I only have about 9 days left in Paris, but then again, it also means that I get to see gatito and el Don soon. Besides, I'm already coming up with a plan to return avec famille for 6 months! (unbeknownst to them).

Intensive language courses work. I am understanding more, and making mistakes-- such as telling people where I live when they really asked how long I'll be in Paris--much less often.

The best part of this time, though, is friends. I've got to be the luckiest lady on earth. Dinners with Judy and family, shopping with Judy at the haute couture Bon Marche where I did NOT buy the gorgeous skirt for 300 euros (on sale, half price, or was the 600 euros the half price?! We weren't sure), dinners with Stephanie and friends in which we speak Spanish (but could just as well speak English because they all speak that too). In fact, last night we were out and I understood that one man was from Great Britain but really he was from Brittany...and since we were all speaking Spanish and then I heard him speak to the German woman in German and then he spoke also some English (he lives in Canada), when he finally was speaking to Stephanie, I said, "Shit, this guy is really good. He sounds so native." So I ask him where/when he learned French and of course everyone burst out laughing.

This week the agenda is: the picasso museum, the D'Orsay, more avoiding of Marc (the frenchman who keeps calling me) and Caberet on Thursday, more french blunders.

The writing, you ask? Hemingway inspiration? Don't. It just isn't happening. I wish I could just give up this urge to write altogether, but of course when gatito overheard me tell the Don that, he said, "Why mommy? I can't WAIT to read your new book!"

Sevilla-Barcelona-Paris

What can I say??? We had a fabulous time with friends for Christmas in Sevilla, lots of amazing good food cooked by The Don. Then, we jetted off to Barcelona where we stayed in a prime-location apartment, ate MORE good food (cooked again by The Don...in case you're wondering it was fish stew catalan style and then duck for new year's eve). The city, though, was crowded. Italians like the plague. French a close second. Everything Gaudi was over-run. I've decided the city would be NOTHING if not for Gaudi. He brings in thousands, probably millions of tourists per year and think of all those tourist euros.

La Sagrada Familia: Gatito said, "This church is impossible." I would have to agree. He has decided to return in exactly 50 years when he is The Don's age to see if it's done.

Now, here I sit in nothing less than the Falstaff cafe next to the Bastille. They have free internet (for 30 min), but my espresso cost 3.20 euros (that would be $4.00), but then again, what does a stupid Starbuck's in SLC cost? And all you get is a paper cup, no Parisians smoking at the next table saying "oui oui" (at least this is mostly what I understand them saying), no Bastille or guillotene history, AND no free wifi! Besides, I WANT to be in Paris drinking expensive coffee.

Tomorrow I start THE FRENCH COURSE (Time out: I just saw a small mouse run across the floor in the outdoor part (but enclosed) of the cafe). Soon I will say more than bonjour and oui oui.

Met up with ma amie, Stephanie, yesterday. She speaks English like a native; then we went to meet another friend, Alexandra. They began in Italian; When Alexandra realized I couldn't understand she switched to French saying Do you prefer French or do you speak Italian? Then she tried in Spanish and finally realized English would work best. (Stephanie, of course, speaks ALL of these languages beautifully). Okay, so much for my linguistic envy.

A bientot mon amis!!!