Crisis Level Soars as Pumpkin Pie Plunges to Untimely Death and Porcupine Quills.

Le 24 novembre 2004.
I am grumpy, grumbly, nostalgic, and frustrated all in one. The best description at the moment I can find is that I’m scratchy; scratchy as in porcupine quills. The "stage" today was as ineffectual as I had predicted, though it was lovely to see everyone else and to hear how things are at the various lycées and colléges in the area. The worksheets brought by those who remembered will probably be helpful, or easily enough adapt to my students’ level. But mostly I’ve found that the ladies in charge make the majority of us feel as if we’re our students’ ages, and truly aren’t helpful with actual solutions to various issues that have arisen. Honestly, telling someone to talk to their contact teacher (which I’m sure someone who’s twenty to twenty-four has already done,) let alone the sécretaire or the dirécteur isn’t really a solution or being of any assistance whatsoever. In the words of Sarah and Laura, WTF. One more grumble before I cease on this note, and what’s the point of having us go late in the morning, take only an hour lunch, and skip a break, to let us out early, if we’re just going to go late to 4:15 anyway? Somehow in my little book, that plan just did not come up to scratch... given that we were to have an hour and half for lunch and to get out at 4pm.

On to other more important things; I’ve always rather enjoyed Thanksgiving abroad, though I’ve actually only experienced one abroad. But last year was a marvelous Thanksgiving of eating in a vegetarian restaurant and enjoying great conversation. This year is becoming such a hassle. Dinner for about 15 people in the form of a potluck with only a toaster oven at our disposal; besides being super tired after a pointless day today, it’s enough to make one scream. But I think regardless of how crazy this holiday abroad will be I’d rather remain optimistic for the outcome of the day. It will be enjoyable in some form, even if the craziest story of the year come next Thanksgiving. The sad note to Thanksgiving being that the pumpkin pie that Melissa worked so hard to create committed suicide this evening by plunging itself headlong out of Jennifer’s hands from the toaster oven shelf and splattering its entrails partout over Jennifer, Louise, and all of Jennifer’s kitchen. Tears were shed and sadness prevailed throughout the evening after the untimely demise.

The most difficult part of being abroad is when friends experience tragedy, true sadness and you can not physically be there to grieve. Grief is such a strong emotion, such that it could be felt across an ocean, but that physical presence is definitely missing. But a spirit, even if physically is weak, as an essence can be quite strong; thus regardless of physical time or distance can be felt by many long after its depart from the region. Love can reach beyond all the barriers humans perceive separate us from one another and comfort in ways often unimaginable.

Nostalgie is such a crazy little annoyance of life. It flares up at the most unexpected moments, hence becoming the most annoying time for it to arrive. Just as you settle in a bit, you find yourself wanting to just leave again or at least escape for awhile. How is it also that you have nostalgie for places that aren’t even a home, a place you’re not even sure could be a home… is it just the familiarity of the place, the fact that you’ve learned it so well already that at least you don’t struggle just to find the simplest things? Toulouse, my rose city of the south, with its pink bricks and golden sunshine, shadowy glimpses of the Pyrénées at the most unexpected moments of the day, crowded rue principal, and bizarre bazaar of a marché de Noël, its Monoprix next to Capitole, and cute little boulangerie next to the canal- how I miss it some days. Even on beautiful days in Metz when the crisp winter light comes through the blue sky and lights the Cathédral in the pristine brilliance. People-dodging on Rue Serpenoise is not the same experience as people- and pamphleteer-dodging on Rue de Change/Taur/de la Rome in Toulouse. The massive tide of people doesn’t feel quite as massive when you have double the space in which to dodge and weave. So here’s to more space in the streets and de-centralized marchés de Noël. Bring on the vin chaud.